Gon's Harem System
Chapter 161: Leaving

Chapter 161: Leaving

Gon stood in the Duke’s training yard, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the packed dirt

Sweat beaded on his brow, his tunic clung to his chest, but he didn’t care

Level 3 thrummed in his veins, Qi Disciple was his now, and the tournament loomed just a day away

He gripped his sword, its familiar weight a comfort, and eyed the straw-stuffed dummies lined up against the wooden fence

Time to see what Phantom Slash could really do

He swung, a quick flick of his wrist, and the ability flared to life

A crescent of spectral energy leapt from the blade, a ghostly arc that shimmered gray and howled like a distant wind

It streaked fifteen feet, tearing through the first dummy with a satisfying rip

Straw exploded, the wooden stake beneath splintered, and the faint mana echo pulsed outward, rattling the air

Gon grinned, feral and wide

"That’s more like it."

He swung again, harder this time, aiming for two targets at once

The arc widened, slicing clean through both, their tops sliding off in a cascade of straw and dust

He laughed, the sound sharp in the quiet yard

Phantom Slash wasn’t just power, it was precision, and he could already imagine Ethan’s smug face on the receiving end

Next, Crimson Pulse

He sheathed his sword, striding toward a cluster of young trees and overgrown plants near the yard’s edge

The guards had warned him off the greenery, but he didn’t care, they’d grow back

He planted his feet, clenched his fists, and summoned the heat in his chest

It built fast, a red glow flickering beneath his ribs, then erupted

A shockwave burst outward, five feet of raw, crimson energy that thrummed like a drumbeat

The trees swayed, leaves tearing free, and the plants bent low, stalks snapping under the force

He watched them stagger, picturing a mage’s focus shattering mid-spell or a swordsman stumbling mid-charge

"Perfect," he muttered, wiping his brow

He pulsed again, aiming at a thicker trunk

The bark cracked, the tree groaned, and he nodded

Close-quarters chaos, that’s what this was made for

But raw power wasn’t enough, he needed skill to back it

Master Toren’s lessons echoed in his mind, the grizzled swordsman’s gravelly voice barking orders from years past

"Footwork, boy, it’s all in the stance!"

Gon drew his sword again, dropping into the low, balanced form Toren had drilled into him

He lunged, blade flashing in a tight arc, then pivoted, parrying an imaginary strike

The moves were fluid, muscle memory kicking in, but now, with Level 3’s strength, they felt faster, sharper

He chained a thrust into a spinning slash, picturing Ethan’s clumsy guard from the last tournament

Too slow, too weak

He paused, breathing hard, then grinned

Why not mix it all?

He stepped back, set his stance, and swung with Phantom Slash, the ghostly arc screaming toward a distant dummy

As it hit, he pulsed Crimson Pulse, the red wave rippling out to shake the nearby plants again

Then he flowed into Toren’s footwork, darting forward, blade dancing in a flurry of strikes

Straw flew, wood cracked, and the air buzzed with mana

Gon stopped, chest heaving, and laughed again

"They’ve got no chance."

*****

The day had finally arrived for the mages to journey to the king’s palace, a sprawling fortress of gleaming stone that loomed over the capital like a watchful sentinel

The kingdom stage of the tournament was set for the weekend, but King Roderic, in his infinite arrogance, had decreed that all participants must arrive at the beginning of the week

He insisted they train with his state-of-the-art equipment and submit to the conditioning regimes of his royal masters, convinced that no other corner of the realm could rival the palace’s resources

For Milo and Gon, two young mages from the Duke of Hanan province, this meant a long carriage ride across the rolling hills, escorted by four of the Duke’s stern-faced guards

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the cobblestone courtyard as Milo adjusted the straps of his leather satchel, his staff leaning against the carriage

His sharp eyes scanned the bustling scene, servants loading provisions, horses snorting clouds of steam into the crisp air

Gon, meanwhile, lingered near the manor’s arched entrance, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he searched for his mother

The Duchess of Hanan stood just beyond the threshold, her regal silhouette framed by the ivy-clad walls

Her silver-streaked hair gleamed in the light, but her face was shadowed with emotion, her hands clasped tightly at her waist

"Mama!" Gon called, his deep voice cutting through the clamor as he strode toward her

The guards, clad in the Duke’s emerald-and-black livery, paused their preparations to glance at the scene, though their expressions remained impassive

The Duchess’s lips trembled as she stepped forward, her emerald eyes glistening with unshed tears

"Oh, my boy," she murmured, reaching up to cup Gon’s face

He towered over her, his muscular frame a stark contrast to her delicate one, yet in that moment, he seemed almost small, a child seeking comfort

"You’ve grown so much, and now you’re off to face the kingdom’s best, I can hardly bear it."

Gon grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes

"I’ll be fine, Mama, besides, Milo’s got my back kind of," he said

The Duchess sighed, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from Gon’s forehead

"I know you’re strong, Gon, but the palace is a different world, full of schemers and gilded traps, promise me you’ll be careful."

"I promise," he said softly, pulling her into a brief, fierce hug

She clung to him for a moment, then stepped back, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief

The courtyard hummed with the final preparations as the carriage stood ready, its horses pawing the ground impatiently

Gon adjusted the strap of his pack, his broad frame casting a shadow over the cobblestones, when a firm hand gripped his shoulder

He turned, startled, to find his father, the Duke of Hanan, standing before him

The Duke was a towering man, his stern features softened only slightly by the morning light

Without a word, he pulled Gon into a sudden, fierce hug, his arms enveloping his son in a rare display of affection that caught Gon off guard

"Be safe, boy," the Duke rumbled, his voice low and gruff, thick with an emotion he rarely let show

He stepped back, gripping Gon’s shoulders and fixing him with a piercing stare

"The palace is no place for carelessness."