Gon's Harem System
Chapter 168: The same stare

Chapter 168: The same stare

The training fields stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sun, the once, loose dirt now baked hard, cracked in places where the heat had drawn out every last bit of moisture.

The rhythmic pounding of boots echoed across the open space as groups of mages ran their laps, their bodies moving in uneven strides, some struggling, others pushing forward with grim determination.

The heat clung to their skin, sweat streaking their faces, soaking into their tunics, making them heavier with every step.

Gon ran with his small crew, his movements steady and controlled. His breath came evenly, his arms loose at his sides, his body working through the motion without strain.

The sword he had trained with that morning was now secured at his hip, its weight familiar, a reminder of the work he had already put in.

The training master’s words still echoed in his head, clear and sharp: Physical work, day one. Push the body.

He had done just that, starting with precise strikes against the training dummies, then moving to a spar with Zara, matching her in swift exchanges of blade and footwork.

Now, stamina drills. No thinking, no hesitation.

Just the rhythm of his body, the steady beat of his feet against the ground, and the constant pull of endurance settling deep in his muscles.

Nearby, another group thundered across the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake.

At the front of the pack, Mira ran with an effortless confidence, her sharp jaw set, eyes locked forward.

The glowing orb that hovered near her shoulder pulsed with energy, crackling every few moments like it was barely contained.

Sparks flickered around it, jumping in small bursts before, crack!, a sudden bolt of energy shot out, striking the ground with a sharp hiss.

A puff of scorched dust rose into the air, marking the spot where it had hit.

The others in her group flinched at the sudden discharge, some instinctively shifting away, but Mira only smirked.

As Gon’s group passed hers, she caught his eye.

For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered in her gaze, but then her smirk widened.

She slowed just slightly, enough to let him hear her words clearly over the steady thud of running feet.

"Too tired already, Gon?" she taunted, her voice sharp, edged with amusement. "Stick to the kiddie drills, this is real work."

The orb at her shoulder flared again, it’s glow intensifying for a fraction of a second before, crack!, another bolt struck the ground, louder this time, sending up another burst of scorched dirt.

Gon kept jogging, his pace steady, his breath controlled.

He didn’t break stride, didn’t turn his head, didn’t give Mira the satisfaction of a reaction.

Instead, he marked her in his head, an opponent worth noting, but not one to get distracted by.

His group pulled ahead, dust kicking up in their wake.

His legs burned, but it was a familiar burn, the kind that told him he could go longer.

So he did.

The laps blurred together, the world shrinking to the sound of his heartbeat, the feeling of his muscles tightening and stretching, the deep pull of stamina being tested.

And yet, Mira’s smirk lingered in the back of his mind.

Not because he cared what she thought, but because she was a rival worth watching.

He had no doubt about her skill, she was fast, confident, dangerous.

But confidence could tip into arrogance, and arrogance made people reckless.

At some point, she’d overplay her hand, push too far, and when that moment came, Gon wanted to see it.

By the time the last lap ended, the sun had dipped lower, bleeding orange and red across the sky.

The fields were quieter now, most of the mages had finished their runs, their breathing heavy as they drifted into slower movements, some stretching, others slumped against barrels of water, gulping it down in shaky swallows.

Gon’s group moved back toward the dummy area, their steps dragging just a little.

He found his sword where he had left it, leaning against the worn wooden rack near the edge of the field.

He stepped up to a fresh dummy and without hesitation, he moved into the familiar rhythm, chest cut, arm cut, reset.

The same motions as before, clean and efficient.

A sharp hiss cut through the air nearby, the unmistakable sound of metal slicing fast and clean.

Gon barely needed to shift his gaze to pinpoint the source, two dummies down, a boy with a curved blade moved with brutal efficiency.

His strikes were vicious, controlled, each landing with calculated precision.

Neck, chest, gut, every slash split through burlap and straw like it was flesh.

His grip on the curved hilt was white-knuckled, unyielding, his stance solid as stone despite the sweat dampening his dark hair, strands plastered to his forehead.

Then, mid-swing, he stopped.

His head turned, just enough to lock eyes with Gon.

That same stare from breakfast, from the hall door, now closer, sharper, colder.

Gon met it, his own sword mid-cut, straw still drifting from his last swing.

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t quicken his pace, didn’t let the boy’s presence dictate his rhythm.

He simply continued, another slow slice across the dummy’s shoulder, measured and steady.

The boy’s stare didn’t waver, a silent promise in it, this wasn’t just training.

It was something more, something heavier.

A challenge, maybe. A warning. Gon couldn’t say for sure, but instinct sent a prickle up his spine.

Not today, maybe. But soon.

He exhaled through his nose, shifting his grip as he swung again, this time across the chest.

He kept the boy in his peripheral vision, watching without watching.

The moment stretchedbefore the boy finally turned back to his dummy.

One last slash, clean through.

The top half of the dummy toppled to the dirt with a dull thud, bisected in a single motion.

Across the yards, the training master’s voice cut through. "Gear down, rest up!"

The day was over.

The boy with the curved blade was still there, sheathing his weapon with slow, deliberate ease.

He glanced at Gon one last time, brief, but heavy, before turning away.

His boots barely made a sound, but his intent echoed loud.

Gon exhaled, resting the tip of his sword against the dirt, fingers flexing around the worn grip.

Zara’s grit, Mira’s flashing orb, and now this..... Day one certainly wasn’t dull.