Gon's Harem System
Chapter 164: Meeting Zara

Chapter 164: Meeting Zara

A sudden jolt broke his focus as someone brushed past, hard enough to shove his shoulder back.

Gon’s head snapped around, meeting the venomous glare of the boy with the curved blade. Dark hair, lean frame, knuckles white around his hilt.

The kid’s eyes burned with something personal, a silent promise of trouble, before he melted into the crowd.

Gon’s jaw tightened, a spark of unease flaring then fading.

Someone with a grudge, no question. Probably worth watching when the Royale hit.

The hall pulsed around him. Servants stacking gear. Mages sizing each other up.

Zara’s laugh rang out again. Talia’s silhouette lingered in his periphery. The boy’s glare stuck like a splinter.

Gon rolled his shoulders, grinning faintly.

Three days to master the gear. One to plan. Then the fight. Plenty of time to sort out threats. And maybe charm a few along the way.

****

The next morning, the common hall stretched long and narrow, its stone walls rough under the dim glow of iron sconces.

Wooden tables lined the space. Scratched and sturdy.

Crowded with the twenty-four mages digging into breakfast before the first day of training.

The air buzzed with low voices, the clatter of plates, and the faint smell of yeast and roasted meat. Servants moved through, dropping baskets of crusty bread, platters of sliced pork, and pitchers of watered wine that sloshed onto the wood.

Gon sat near the middle of one table, his broad frame hunched over a plate piled high.

He tore into a chunk of bread, chewing fast, his eyes flicking up to scan the room. Threats first. Then prospects.

The training master’s words from last night stuck with him. Three days to prove himself with the king’s gear. Then the Battle Royale.

Day one started today, and Gon had a plan. Keep his head down. Work the yards quietly. Let the others strut and stumble.

He’d save his real moves for the Royale. Slipping through unnoticed until most were gone.

He swallowed a mouthful of meat, washing it down with a swig of wine, and let his gaze roam.

Across the hall, a mage with a scarred cheek sharpened a dagger between bites. Dangerous, maybe.

Nearer, a girl with red hair poured wine, her fingers quick and steady. Worth a second look. He noted, filing her away.

A few seats down, Milo sat slouched, one elbow on the table, flipping his tarnished coin between bites of bread.

Clink. Catch. Clink. Catch.

It spun in the air, catching light, then landed in his palm. His sword rested against the bench, ignored, and his eyes stayed half-closed.

Like the chatter around him was background noise.

Gon didn’t spare him much thought. Milo was Milo. Always coasting.

The real game was staying sharp without drawing eyes, and Gon was already plotting.

Three days to test the gear. Blend in. Figure out who’d fall first.

He stabbed a piece of pork with his knife, lifting it to his mouth as his gaze shifted again.

A broad-shouldered guy near the door cracked his knuckles. Loud enough to carry. Strong, probably a brawler. Good to know.

Then a blonde in a green robe caught his eye, sitting two tables over.

Picking at her food. A silver ring glinting on her finger.

Nervous, maybe. But pretty.

Could be a fighter worth watching. Or more.

Gon smirked faintly, chewing slower.

The tournament was the goal, no question. He’d outlast them all. Quiet and steady.

But a little fun on the side wouldn’t hurt.

The hall hummed with energy. Mages sizing each other up between bites.

A few laughed too loud. Others kept their heads down.

And one—a lean guy with a staff—watched the room like Gon did. Eyes sharp.

Competition. All of them.

Gon felt the weight of it settle in his gut.

Three days wasn’t long. But it was enough.

He’d hit the yards today. Swing just enough to get by. Keep his edge hidden until the Royale thinned the field.

Most wouldn’t see him coming.

He drained his wine, setting the cup down with a thud, and grabbed another hunk of bread.

The chatter swelled. Plates emptied. The room started to thin as mages trickled out toward the yards.

Gon stayed put a moment longer. Eyes still moving.

Threats. Prospects. Targets.

Day one of training was here and he’d play it smart.

A shadow fell across his table, followed by the scrape of a bench.

Zara plopped down opposite him, her plate piled high with pork and bread. Enough to feed two.

She grinned wide, teeth flashing, and dropped her elbows on the wood with a thud that rattled his cup.

Her leather armor creaked, stretched tight over a strong frame, and she looked ready to take on the day, or break it in half.

Gon glanced up, meeting her eyes, and kept chewing. Waiting for whatever she had to say.

"Training yards are calling," she said, tearing off a chunk of bread and pointing it at him. "I’m breaking every dummy out there by noon. Clean through. No scraps. Hanan better not slow me down."

Her voice was loud, brassy, cutting through the hall’s chatter like she owned it.

She leaned forward, grin turning sharp "Heard you’re from there. Hope you swing that sword as good as you look with it."

Gon swallowed, setting his knife down with a faint clink.

He leaned back, matching her grin with a smaller one of his own.

"Better," he said, voice steady. "You’ll see tomorrow. Try not to cry when I outlast you."

He kept it light, testing her but he liked her energy. Bold. Straight-up. No nonsense.

She’d be good to spar with. Someone who could push him without him having to show too much too soon.

His eyes flicked over her for a second. Broad shoulders. Solid build. Not bad at all.

Then back to her face.

Tournament first. But she was worth keeping around.

Zara laughed, a short, barking sound, and stabbed a piece of meat with her fork.

"Outlast me? Big talk for day one. Those dummies won’t know what hit ’em. Me or you, Hanan."

She took a bite, chewing with purpose. Like she was already swinging that axe in her head.

"King’s gear’s supposed to be top-notch. I’m hitting it hard. Bet half these fools won’t keep up."

Gon nodded, picking up his wine. "They won’t," he said, taking a sip.

He’d seen the gear last night. Swords sharper than Hanan’s. Runes that hummed with power.

Three days to figure it out. Quietly.

While others like Zara made noise.

She’d draw eyes.

And he’d slip through.

Perfect.

"Just don’t break it all before I get a turn."

She smirked, leaning back with her plate half-empty already.

"Plenty to go around. Stick with me, you might learn something."

She stood, grabbing her food, and headed for the door. Her stride all confidence.

Gon watched her go, finishing his bread.

Ally. Sparring partner.

Maybe more.

She’d do.