Gon's Harem System
Chapter 120: The duke’s admiration

Chapter 120: The duke’s admiration

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

After the crowd had calmed down and filtered inside the castle for the grand feast, the once-cheerful arena fell into an eerie silence, broken only by a few scattered voices echoing faintly in the distance.

The stands, which had been packed with roaring spectators just moments ago, now lay empty, save for a few stray pieces of debris fluttering in the gentle breeze.

The sand-strewn battlefield, still marked with the scars of the day’s clashes, shimmered faintly under the fading sunlight, its golden hue giving way to the creeping shadows of twilight.

The air carried the lingering scent of sweat, steel, and dust, a reminder of the intensity that had unfolded here mere hours ago.

High above, the castle loomed, its towering spires piercing the sky like the jagged teeth of some ancient beast, their stone facades bathed in the last warm glow of the day.

Gon stood alone at the edge of the arena, his chest still heaving slightly from the exertion of his final match.

His slim yet muscular frame bore the marks of the system’s accelerated growth.

His arms, lean but defined, flexed slightly as he adjusted his stance, and his legs, strong and steady, felt ready to carry him into any battle.

He brushed a hand through his hair, which had grown longer than he usually kept it.

Once short and practical, it now fell over his eyes in unruly strands, forcing him to push it back with an impatient swipe.

The motion revealed a determined glint in his dark eyes, a spark that hadn’t been there just months ago, a fire born of sheer willpower and an unyielding desire to prove himself in a world that had written him off.

He glanced toward the castle, its arched windows glowing with the warm light of the feast within, and felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest.

The tournament had been a brutal gauntlet, but he had emerged victorious in the regional stage, earning his place among the kingdom’s elite competitors.

He had expected his father, the Duke, to summon him sooner, to offer some stern words of critique or a curt nod of approval.

But as the minutes stretched on and the arena grew quieter, Gon began to wonder if the Duke would even show.

The thought gnawed at him, stirring a mix of hope and unease.

He had fought not just for glory, but for his father’s recognition, for a sign that the man who had raised him with such unrelenting expectations might finally see him as more than a disappointment.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a tall, slim figure emerged from the shadowed archway at the edge of the arena, his steps measured and deliberate.

The Duke was an imposing man, even in his simplicity.

His black hair, streaked with gray at the temples from the mounting stress of recent times, was pulled back into a tight ponytail that swayed lightly with each step.

The gray strands were a new addition, a quiet testament to the burdens he carried as a leader in turbulent times, wars on the borders, political machinations within the court, and the ever-present weight of his family’s legacy.

His sharp features, carved as if from stone, betrayed little emotion, and his dark eyes held a piercing intensity that could unsettle even the boldest of men.

He wore a simple yet elegant tunic of deep crimson, the color of his house, with a silver clasp at the shoulder bearing the emblem of a rearing stallion.

Despite his slender build, there was an undeniable strength in his presence, a quiet power that seemed to radiate from him like heat from a smoldering fire.

As he approached, Gon straightened instinctively, his heart pounding in his chest.

He expected the Duke to offer a few clipped words of congratulations, perhaps a lecture about pushing himself harder, training smarter, becoming better.

After all, that was the Duke’s way, always demanding more, always pointing out the next hurdle to overcome.

But what Gon did not expect was the way the Duke’s expression softened, just for a moment, before he opened his arms in a wide, uncharacteristic embrace.

For a heartbeat, Gon froze, his mind reeling.

The Duke was not a man given to displays of affection.

In all his years, Gon could count on one hand the number of times his father had so much as patted him on the shoulder.

Yet here he was, arms outstretched, waiting.

Hesitation gripped Gon for only a second before he stepped forward, allowing himself to be enveloped in the Duke’s embrace.

The older man’s grip was firm, almost crushing, as if he were trying to pour years of unspoken pride into that single moment.

Then, with a tenderness that caught Gon off guard, the Duke ruffled his son’s hair, the gesture so achingly paternal that Gon felt a lump rise in his throat.

"I always knew you were destined for greatness," the Duke said, his voice low and laced with raw emotion.

He pulled back just enough to meet Gon’s gaze, his dark eyes shimmering with something Gon couldn’t quite place, pride, perhaps, or relief, or maybe even a trace of guilt.

"I was so sure of it from the first time I set my eyes on you."

"It was why I found it so hard to believe you had no mana, it was Why the news hit me harder than anyone else."

Gon stood dumbfounded, the weight of his father’s words sinking in.

The Duke was not a man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Even in moments of triumph or tragedy, he maintained an unshakable composure, his face a mask of calm authority.

Yet here, in the fading light of the arena, there was a crack in that facade, a glimpse of the man beneath the title, the father beneath the ruler.

Gon didn’t know how to respond, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his thoughts a tangled mess.

Follow current novels on freewe(b)novel.c(o)m