Gon's Harem System
Chapter 172: Lena saves him

Chapter 172: Lena saves him

Gon pushed through the obstacle course, the afternoon sun beating down on the training yards.

His muscles burned from the exertion, sweat rolling down his temple as he took in the course ahead.

He’d already cleared the spiked ditch, barely avoiding the sharpened wooden stakes hidden beneath loose dirt.

The net crawl had been worse. his elbows and knees scraped raw from dragging himself over rough rope.

Now, the rope bridge loomed before him, thick, weathered lines strung tight over a muddy pit that reeked of damp earth and sweat.

Below, the pit churned, dark and slick from mages who had already slipped and fallen.

Their frustrated shouts and curses echoed up, mixing with the distant clash of training swords and the occasional barked orders of instructors overseeing other drills.

Gon stepped forward, boots scuffing against the dirt, and gripped the first rope with one hand, his sword firm in the other.

The bridge swayed under the weight of those ahead, creaking loudly, the ropes stretching as bodies shifted.

Some crossed quickly, using momentum to counter the unstable sway.

Others hesitated, their hesitation making the bridge jerk unpredictably.

Lena was already up there, a few steps ahead, her dark hair tied back, balancing with steady, measured steps.

She moved smoothly, her body shifting instinctively with the motion, like she’d done this a hundred times before.

Gon watched her for a second, appreciating the controlled way she handled it.

Then he stepped onto the bridge, the rope jerking slightly under his weight.

Immediately, it tipped hard to one side.

His boots slipped an inch, his balance momentarily lost, and his grip on the rope tightened.

The burn in his arms was instant, his muscles already weary from the course so far.

Lena glanced back, her sharp eyes catching his struggle.

"Keep your weight even," she called over the wind. "It won’t tip as much."

Her voice was calm, instructive, not mocking or impatient, just offering a tip that made sense.

Gon nodded, adjusting his stance, spreading his weight across both ropes instead of letting himself lean too much to either side.

The sway eased. Still unsteady, but now manageable.

He took another step, then another, his fingers tightening around the rough rope. His boots found purchase, and the shaking lessened.

Lena had slowed, half-turning, and as he drew closer, she reached out.

Her fingers brushed his arm, firm and steady, a brief point of contact grounding him.

"Like that," she said, releasing him and stepping forward again.

Gon followed her lead, keeping his balance in check.

The bridge held steady beneath his boots now, and he moved faster, his confidence building.

Below, the pit still gurgled ominously, but it was no longer a threat.

Lena reached the other side first, dropping down with a soft thud.

She turned, watching him close the final stretch.

He crossed the last few feet, shoulders burning, and landed beside her.

Dust puffed up around his boots as he straightened, brushing mud from his hands.

"Thanks," he said, voice low, meeting her steady gaze.

She shrugged, lips twitching in the barest hint of amusement. "No point falling in."

Gon smirked. He liked her dry way of putting things.

She turned back toward the course, moving on, and he watched her go for a moment, noting the way she carried herself, always balanced, always aware.

The training yards were alive with movement.

Mages grunted as they struggled through the course, some cursing as they splashed into the pit, others laughing as they climbed back out, soaked in mud.

Gon rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar ache settling deep.

He still had one last stretch to clear, the field run.

The sun had dipped lower now, casting long shadows over the spiked barriers ahead. Wooden stakes and hurdles were scattered across the dusty field, designed to test speed, agility, and endurance.

He took off at a steady pace, boots pounding against the dirt.

The first few barriers were easy,low wooden hurdles that required only a quick leap.

Dust stuck to his sweat, but he kept his focus, weaving through gaps, eyes sharp for the fastest route.

Then, from his left, another runner closed in fast.

A boy with a curved blade, sprinting hard, his footsteps sharp and deliberate. Gon recognized him, it was the boy who had been staring daggers at him ever since they arrived.

The boy’s blade flashed in the fading light.

A sharp arc. A swing meant to look careless.

The curved blade struck a wooden barrier as he passed, splinters flying in a jagged spray.

Gon reacted fast, twisting his body, but one splinter still nicked his leg. A thin, stinging cut.

His step faltered, just for a second.

The boy didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance back at first.

Gon steadied himself, gritting his teeth against the sting, and kept moving, his grip tightening around his sword hilt.

It hadn’t been an accident.

The boy had meant to throw him off, subtle enough to pass as coincidence, but deliberate.

Gon pushed forward, weaving through the splintered wood, ignoring the scratch.

The field buzzed with movement, other mages grunting as they cleared barriers or tripped in the dust.

Gon kept his eyes locked on the boy ahead.

He was fast. Controlled. But the way he moved, the way he lashed out with his blade, there was something more to it.

It wasn’t just about the course for him.

The boy hit the next hurdle, leaping cleanly over it.

Then he glanced back.

A sharp, cold look.

It was the same glare from the training hall, from the sparring dummies.

Now, it was closer. More personal.

Gon held the stare, not blinking, not looking away.

Then he cleared his own hurdle, landing solidly.

The boy turned back, sprinting on, his blade slashing at nothing, just air.

Gon stayed on his trail, keeping his pace even.

This wasn’t about beating him, not yet. It was about understanding him.

The last barrier loomed ahead, the final hurdle before the finish line.

Gon pushed forward, feeling the fire in his muscles, the weight of his sword still present in his grip.

The boy was just ahead, crossing first, his steps slowing to a walk.

Gon finished a second later, coming to a stop just behind him.

Both breathing hard. Both covered in dust and sweat.

The boy’s glare flicked toward him one last time, a silent challenge lingering in the air between them.

Gon didn’t look away.

He rested his sword tip against the dirt, wiped sweat from his brow, and held the boy’s stare.

Around them, the yards were settling. Mages were trickling off, some limping, others laughing, dusting themselves off.

But Gon stayed still.

Watching.

The boy turned away first, steps slow, deliberate.

He disappeared into the crowd.

Gon exhaled, rolling his shoulders, his body aching but his mind sharp.

That wasn’t just rivalry.

It was something else.

And he’d figure out what soon enough.