Gon's Harem System
Chapter 165: Training

Chapter 165: Training

The common hall buzzed as breakfast wound down, the stone walls echoing with the scrape of benches and the clink of empty plates

Wooden tables sat cluttered with crumbs and drained cups of watered wine, the air still heavy with the smell of meat and bread

The mages started to peel away, some lingering to talk, others heading out toward the training yards for day one

Gon stayed at his table, finishing the last of his pork, his mind on the three days ahead, quiet swings, subtle moves, staying off everyone’s radar until the Royale

He’d let the others strut and fall early, the Battle Royale was where he’d show up, not before

A figure moved past his table, quick and sharp, her sleeve brushing the edge of his plate

It was the lithe girl with the glowing orb, Mira, he’d call her for now, her jaw set hard, hair flicking back as she walked

The orb hovered at her shoulder, a fist-sized ball of light spitting faint sparks, humming low like a wasp ready to sting

She glanced down at him, eyes cold, and tossed out a remark like it was trash she couldn’t be bothered to carry

"Keep your blade out of my way, Hanan. I don’t waste time on amateurs clogging the yards."

Gon looked up, chewing slowly, unfazed

He set his knife down with a quiet tap and leaned back, meeting her stare with a faint grin

"Funny," he said, voice even, "I don’t waste time on showoffs. See you in the Royale."

He kept it short, no heat, just enough to let her know he wasn’t rattled

Her orb buzzed louder, the hum spiking for a second, a subtle flex of power that hung in the air like a threat

He marked her then and there: rival, loud, someone to watch when the real fight came

Mira’s lips pressed thin, her nose tilting up as she turned away, striding toward the door with that orb trailing her like a guard dog

Gon watched her go, wiping his hands on his pants

She’d be trouble, too full of herself, too quick to flash that thing

Good

Let her draw attention in the yards, he’d keep his swings quiet, his moves basic, save the real stuff for later

The hall kept emptying, mages trickling out in pairs or alone

A few laughed, voices bouncing off the stone, while others moved with purpose, eyes already on the day ahead

Gon’s gaze drifted for a moment, a blonde in a green robe stood near the door, ring glinting as she adjusted her belt

Pretty, maybe a fighter, but Mira’s jab still echoed in his head

He pushed it aside and stood, brushing crumbs off his shirt, and grabbed his empty cup

Mira could strut all she wanted, he’d be the one still standing when the dust settled

The hall cleared out, and he followed the last few mages toward the yards, ready to start day one right

The hall’s noise faded as Gon stepped toward the exit, the stone corridor opening up to the training yards beyond

Mages shuffled past, their boots scuffing the floor, voices trailing off into the morning air

He kept his pace steady, mind on the three days ahead, quiet swings, subtle moves, staying off everyone’s radar until the Royale

Near the door, a figure lingered, leaning against the wall like a shadow that didn’t fit

It was the boy with the curved blade, dark hair falling over his eyes, his grip tight on the hilt

His glare locked onto Gon again, sharp, silent, heavy with something more than just competition

Gon met it, jaw tightening, his hand brushing the sword at his hip

The kid didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared with an intent that prickled Gon’s skin

This wasn’t rivalry, it was personal, a fight brewing deeper than the yards or the Royale

He didn’t know why, didn’t need to, not yet

He’d watch him, stay ready

The boy’s gaze held a second longer, then he turned, slipping out toward the yards

Gon followed, steps measured, sensing trouble he’d have to face eventually

The training yards sprawled wide under the morning sun, dust kicking up in faint clouds where the ground was bare

Rows of straw dummies stood stiff and silent, some already scarred from past use, while rune-circles pulsed along the edges, soft blue rings etched into the dirt, humming with quiet power

Open fields stretched beyond, flat and ready for sparring, the air sharp with the smell of dry earth and steel

The mages spilled out from the hall, spreading across the space like ants claiming ground

Some headed straight for the gear piles, swords, axes, odd trinkets that glowed, others lingered, sizing up the setup

Gon stepped in, eyes on the weapons, his mind set on the three days ahead

He moved to a pile near the dummies, grabbing a sword from the top

The hilt was smooth, the blade light, a faint rune scratched near the guard

He swung it once, then twice, testing the balance, decent, but nothing special

His own sword, a gift from his dad, had a better heft, a sharper bite, this one felt like a toy in comparison

Still, it’d do for drills

He stepped to a dummy, lining up his stance, planning basic cuts and footwork to get the day started right

Milo stood nearby, watching the yard, his coin resting in his palm, no flipping, just held there like a weight

His sword hung at his hip, untouched, while his eyes tracked the other mages

A short guy with a staff spun it fast, kicking up dust in tight circles, neat trick, but useless in a real fight

Another, a wiry girl with braided hair, tossed a glowing stone into the air, catching it as it sparked mid-flight, fancy, not practical

Milo’s face stayed blank, taking it in, while Gon focused on his own work

He swung again, a controlled slice that bit into the straw, sending a few strands drifting down

The blade’s weight wasn’t great, too light, no soul like his dad’s gift, but he’d make it work