Gon's Harem System
Chapter 119: Champions of the Duchy (Volume finale)

Chapter 119: Champions of the Duchy (Volume finale)

The open courtyard of the arena lay bathed in the fading light of late afternoon, the sky heavy with brooding gray clouds that seemed to reflect the intensity of the battles that had unfolded below

The sandy expanse was scarred with the marks of combat, footprints, shallow trenches, and streaks of churned dirt bore witness to the ferocity of the tournament’s final rounds

The crimson banners strung between weathered stone pillars fluttered lazily now, the restless wind having died down as if in deference to the moment

The stands encircling the arena were a sea of faces, the spectators’ voices rising in a crescendo of cheers that shook the very air, their excitement a living, breathing force that pulsed through the duchy

In the center of the arena, Gon stood tall, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, sweat glistening on his brow

His sword was sheathed at his side, the blade still warm from the heat of battle, and his dark eyes glinted with the quiet satisfaction of victory

Nearby, Milo lay sprawled on his back in the sand, his slender sword resting beside him, a triumphant grin spread across his face despite the bruises and aches that throbbed through his body

The crowd’s roar was a tidal wave, crashing over them in waves of adulation, but both warriors seemed momentarily lost in their own worlds, Gon in the clarity of his hard-won triumph, and Milo in the rush of having unveiled his Phantom Blade Dance to secure his win

The announcer, a stout man with a booming voice and a flair for the dramatic, climbed onto the raised platform at the edge of the arena, his crimson robes billowing as he raised his arms to the sky

The minor enchantment woven into the runestones at his feet amplified his voice, carrying it over the cacophony of the crowd like a thunderclap. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE DUCHY!" he bellowed, his tone dripping with theatrical flair. "YOUR CHAMPIONS HAVE EMERGED FROM THE CRUCIBLE OF COMBAT, THEIR SKILL AND VALOR PROVEN BEYOND DOUBT! I PRESENT TO YOU THE VICTORS OF THIS GRAND TOURNAMENT, GON AND MILO!"

The crowd erupted into a frenzy, their cheers so loud that a flock of pigeons scattered from the rafters above, their wings a blur against the gray sky

Spectators leapt to their feet, some waving banners emblazoned with the crests of their favorite fighters, others shouting themselves hoarse as they chanted the names of the champions in a rhythmic refrain

Gon lifted his chin, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he acknowledged the crowd with a nod, while Milo pushed himself to his feet, brushing sand from his scuffed leather jerkin and raising a hand in a casual wave

At the far end of the arena, the Duke’s pavilion loomed, a grand structure of carved stone draped in velvet banners bearing the duchy’s golden crest, a rearing stag framed by twin swords

The Duke himself, a broad-shouldered man with a his ponytail and a presence that commanded respect, rose from his gilded seat, his crimson cloak billowing as he stepped forward

His weathered face bore a rare smile, one that spoke of pride in the warriors who had fought so fiercely before him

The crowd hushed almost instantly, their cheers fading into an expectant murmur as the Duke raised a hand for silence, his deep voice carrying across the arena with an authority that needed no enchantment to amplify it

"People of the duchy," the Duke began, his tone rich and resonant, "today we have witnessed the very essence of triumph, of pushing oneself beyond the limits of endurance, beyond the shadows of doubt, to seize greatness with both hands

Gon and Milo have shown us what it means to strive, to endure, and to conquer

Their battles were not merely displays of skill, but testaments to the fire that burns within every true warrior, the unyielding drive to rise above, to carve their names into the annals of our history."

He paused, his piercing gaze sweeping over the stands, as if to ensure every soul present felt the weight of his words. "This tournament is more than a contest of strength," he continued. "It is a reminder of who we are as a people, of the courage that runs through our veins, of the resilience that defines us

Let Gon and Milo stand as examples to us all: that greatness is not bestowed upon us, but forged through struggle, through sacrifice, through the relentless pursuit of something greater than ourselves."

The Duke’s words hung in the air, stirring a ripple of applause that swelled into a thunderous ovation as he raised his arms once more, his crimson cloak catching the dim light like a banner of victory

Gon felt a flicker of pride in his chest, his smirk softening into something more genuine as he listened to the Duke’s speech

Beside him, Milo crossed his arms, his stormy gray eyes glinting with a quiet respect for the words, though his faint smile betrayed the thrill he still felt from the fight

The Duke lowered his arms, his expression shifting to one of warmth as he gestured toward the center of the arena. "But tonight," he declared, his voice taking on a lighter tone, "we do not merely honor our champions with words

From this moment until the first light of dawn, the duchy shall feast! Let the tables be laden with the finest fare, let the music play until the stars fade, and let us celebrate the triumph of our warriors in true splendor!"

The crowd roared its approval, the stands shaking with the force of their excitement as the promise of a grand feast sparked a new wave of energy among the spectators

Already, servants in the Duke’s livery were scurrying to prepare, their arms laden with trays of roasted meats, baskets of fresh bread, and flagons of wine that would soon fill the grand hall adjacent to the arena

As the Duke stepped back into the pavilion, a figure emerged from its shadows, a woman of striking beauty with dark hair streaked with silver, her regal bearing marking her as none other than the Duchess, Gon’s mother

Her emerald gown shimmered in the dim light, the golden embroidery catching the faint rays of the struggling sun as she descended the stone steps with a grace that belied the emotion in her eyes

The crowd parted for her, their murmurs fading into a respectful hush as she crossed the sandy expanse toward her son

Gon’s breath caught as he saw her approach, the weight of the day’s battles momentarily forgotten. "Mother," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the lingering cheers, but the word carried a warmth that mirrored the look in her eyes

The Duchess reached him in a few strides, her arms opening as she pulled him into a tight embrace, heedless of the sand and sweat that clung to his tunic. "My son," she whispered, her voice thick with pride as she held him close. "You’ve made me prouder than words can say."

Gon returned the embrace, the tension in his shoulders easing as he felt the familiar comfort of her presence

For a moment, he was not a champion of the arena but simply her son, basking in the warmth of her approval

The crowd watched in reverent silence, their cheers replaced by soft murmurs of admiration for the tender scene unfolding before them

As the Duchess stepped back, her hands lingering on Gon’s shoulders, two attendants approached from the pavilion, each bearing a polished wooden plaque inlaid with silver

The first attendant, a young man with a solemn expression, presented the plaque to Gon, its surface engraved with his name and the words "Champion of the Grand Tournament."

The second attendant handed an identical plaque to Milo, who accepted it with a nod, his fingers tracing the intricate lettering with a faint smirk

The announcer climbed onto the platform once more, his crimson robes billowing as he raised his arms to the sky. "BEHOLD YOUR CHAMPIONS!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the arena. "GON AND MILO, BEARERS OF THE PLAQUES OF VICTORY, HONORED FOREVER IN THE ANNALS OF OUR DUCHY!"

The crowd erupted into cheers once more, their excitement reaching a fever pitch as Gon and Milo held their plaques aloft, the silver gleaming even in the dim light

Gon’s smirk returned, sharper now, as he glanced sideways at Milo, who was already looking at him with a glint of mischief in his stormy gray eyes

"Looks like we didn’t face each other after all," Milo said, his smirk widening as he hefted his plaque onto his shoulder, his tone laced with playful challenge

Gon’s smirk mirrored his, a spark of competitive fire flickering in his dark eyes. "Next time," he replied, his voice low but firm, the promise of another clash hanging between them like a storm waiting to break

The crowd’s cheers swelled around them as they turned to face the stands, their plaques raised high, the weight of their victories settling into their bones

As the first notes of music drifted from the grand hall, signaling the start of the feast, the two champions stepped forward into the twilight