Gon's Harem System
Chapter 171: Day three

Chapter 171: Day three

The training yards sprawled wide under the high sun, dust swirling around straw dummies and wooden walls scattered across the fields.

A sprawling obstacle course stretched out, ropes dangled over pits, nets hung between posts, and spiked barriers jutted up from the dirt, sharp and uneven.

The air baked dry, sharp with sweat and earth after two days of training.

On this third day, the 24 mages gathered at the edge, some stretching, others gripping swords or wiping brows.

Gon stood among them, holding the plain sword he’d used earlier, light, balanced, but not his.

He turned it over in his hand, feeling the grip, then tossed it aside onto a pile of gear with a dull clank.

His own sword, sheathed at his hip, felt better, familiar, worn in.

He drew it, the weight settling right, and sized up the course ahead.

The training master stepped forward, his scarred face hard, voice barking over the wind.

"Day three, obstacle run! Walls to climb, ropes to cross, pits to dodge. Strength and speed, get through or get out!"

His good eye swept the group, and the mages shifted, forming a loose line at the starting mark.

Gon eyed the layout, dummies to slash first, then a tall wall, a spiked ditch, a net crawl, ropes over a muddy pit, and a field run with barriers.

He’d pace it, use his sword where it worked, keep moving steady.

Two days of steel and sweat had his arms warm, his legs solid, this was just more of it.

The master raised a hand, then dropped it.

"Go!"

The first wave took off, boots pounding, and Gon waited for the second, gripping his sword tighter.

He watched the lead group hit the dummies, swinging wild, some stumbling as logs swung back from ropes overhead.

His turn came, and he jogged forward, blade up, slashing the first dummy, chest, then arm, straw spilling out in clumps.

A log swung down, heavy and fast; he ducked, slicing it aside with a quick flick, wood splintering off.

It thudded into the dirt, and he moved on, reaching the first wall, ten feet high, rough planks nailed together.

He grabbed the top, hauled himself up with a grunt, and dropped down the other side, landing in a puff of dust.

Ahead, a spiked ditch cut across the path, wooden stakes poking up, uneven and jagged.

He judged the gap, took two steps, and leaped, clearing it with a tight jump, his sword steady at his side.

The net crawl came next, low, tangled, forcing him to drop and scramble through, dirt smearing his knees.

He came up breathing hard, the sun hot on his neck, and pushed toward the ropes, thick lines strung over a muddy pit, swaying under the weight of others ahead.

He’d get there, cross it, keep going.

The field run waited after, barriers spiked and waiting to snag.

The yards buzzed, mages shouting, some tripping over nets or slipping on ropes, dust kicking up in clouds.

Gon stayed steady, hitting another dummy mid-stride, clean slash through the gut, straw flying, and kept moving, feeling the rhythm settle in, cut, step, cut.

The wall loomed again; he climbed, slower this time, arms burning but holding firm, fingers digging into the wood.

He dropped down, catching his breath, and glanced ahead, the spiked ditch was close now, the next stretch in sight.

Mira’s group was just ahead, her sharp voice cutting through the noise as she raced forward.

She hit a low barrier, a wooden hurdle, and leaped, kicking up a spray of loose dirt as she landed.

Her foot slipped on the uneven ground, just a stutter, but she caught herself, brushing it off with a smirk.

She turned as Gon’s group closed in, spotting him mid-jump over the same hurdle.

"Too slow, Gon—step it up!" she called, her tone sharp, taunting, like she’d already won.

She sped up, darting toward the spiked ditch, her pace fast but jagged.

Gon landed steady, sidestepping the loose soil she’d churned up, and kept moving, his jaw tight.

He reached the ditch, a wide gap bristling with stakes, and took it in two strides, jumping clean, boots hitting the other side solid.

"Save your breath—watch your feet," he shot back, voice even, not breaking stride.

Mira’s stumble stuck in his head, she was quick, sure, but rushing too hard.

He liked his pace better, steady, no slips.

The net crawl loomed next, and he dropped low, crawling through, dirt grinding under his elbows, sword dragging at his side.

Mira was already up, pushing toward the ropes, her boots kicking up more dust.

She glanced back, smirking again, like she expected him to lag.

He didn’t.

He came up from the net, shook off the grime, and jogged on, closing the gap without rushing.

The yards hummed around them, mages grunting over walls, cursing at pits, some laughing as they tripped.

The sun beat down, midday heat sinking into his skin, but he kept his eyes forward, the rope section now just steps away.

He hit the ropes, grabbing the thick line with one hand, sword in the other, and started across, slow, deliberate, feeling the sway under his weight.

The muddy pit churned below, dark and slick from earlier falls, but he kept his grip, moving hand over hand.

Mira was ahead, halfway across her own rope, shouting something lost in the wind.

He ignored her, focusing on the pull in his arms, the burn in his legs, third day, and he could feel every hour of it.

He reached the other side, dropping down with a thud, and straightened up, brushing mud off his hands.

The field run stretched out ahead, spiked barriers glinting in the sun, last stretch, and he’d get there.

Mira was still moving, a few paces up, her taunt echoing back as she hit the next hurdle.

Gon smirked to himself, jogging steady, letting her push while he held his pace, annoyed, yeah, but calm.