Gon's Harem System
Chapter 191: The new girl

Chapter 191: The new girl

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of thought, he looked up at Thane, his gaze sharper now, more direct.

"You’ve got a good head for this. Always have," the king said, his voice a mixture of admiration and a growing sense of reliance on Thane’s judgment.

He gave a brief, approving nod, as though reassuring himself that he had made the right call in trusting his most capable ally. "What’s our next step?"

Thane didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze shifted toward the tall, arched windows that lined one side of the room, their panes framed by intricate wooden carvings.

Through them, the pale light of the morning was beginning to spill into the room, casting a soft glow across the stone floors.

Outside, the distant sounds of the tournament crowd were growing louder, carried on the crisp morning breeze.

The faint echoes of cheers and the blaring of horns drifted in through the open space, a reminder of the spectacle underway just beyond the palace walls.

Laughter, the clash of weapons, and the chants of spectators blended together, signaling that the day had officially begun.

He turned back to the king, his half-smile gone, replaced by something sharper, more focused.

The relaxed demeanor he had worn just moments before had vanished, and in its place was a quiet intensity that seemed to fill the space between them.

His posture was straighter now, more deliberate, his eyes no longer drifting absentmindedly but fixed with a purposeful gleam.

"We wait for now," he said finally, his voice calm but resolute, the words carrying a quiet gravity.

"New elements are unfolding," he continued, the weight of his words sinking into the room like the slow, inevitable approach of a storm.

The morning sun climbed steadily, its golden rays spilling through the narrow windows of the palace’s training hall, casting long, shifting beams across the polished stone floor.

Dust motes danced in the air, stirred by the rhythmic movements of the palace guards going through their morning drills.

The scent of oiled leather, sweat, and faint traces of metal filled the space, a testament to the countless hours of training that had shaped warriors within these walls.

The air buzzed with a charged energy, a mix of excitement and tension as the mages assembled in the training hall.

Their voices rose and fell in hushed murmurs, the occasional crackle of stray magic sparking through the air as some struggled to keep their nerves in check.

Robes of various colors marked their ranks and affiliations, the embroidered sigils of noble houses and academies standing out in the shifting light.

Each mage had been summoned here, gathered in one place before they would be led out in a grand procession to the arena, where the tournament, and their true test, awaited.

Boots scuffed against the worn stone floor, a restless rhythm that filled the vast chamber.

Voices echoed off the high walls, some ringing out loud and confident, brimming with bravado, while others murmured in hushed tones, laced with unease.

The air carried a mix of tension and excitement, every mage aware that the tournament was moments away, that soon, mere words and reputation would mean nothing compared to raw skill and power.

Gon stood near the back of the hall, half-listening to the chatter around him, his fingers resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

It hung at his hip once more, its familiar weight a quiet reassurance.

After the unease of last night, when he’d realized, far too late, that he hadn’t taken it with him, the solid presence of the weapon felt like a piece of himself had been restored.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders, letting the tension from that mistake bleed away. Today, there would be no oversights.

He tugged at the collar of his tunic, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the stiffness clinging to his muscles like a second skin.

The lingering effects of last night’s wild tangle with Zara still hummed beneath his skin, a warmth that hadn’t quite faded.

But that wasn’t what had his body wound tight.

No, it was the unsettling encounter afterward with the creepy boy.

The training hall was alive with movement as mages milled about, each passing moment thick with anticipation.

Some stretched their limbs, rolling their shoulders or loosening their wrists, shaking off the stiffness of the early morning.

Others ran fingers over the hilts of their daggers or traced the engravings on their staffs, their eyes distant, lost in thought.

A few stood perfectly still, their breaths measured, their focus already turned inward as they prepared for what lay ahead.

The air held a quiet tension, an unspoken awareness that at any moment, the call would come, and they would march toward the arena.

As Gon scanned the crowded training hall, his gaze drifted over the familiar faces of competitors he had sized up the night before.

But then, his eyes landed on someone new, a girl he hadn’t noticed before.

She stood out, towering over most of the crowd, even Gon.

She had to be at least a head taller than him, her posture effortlessly commanding attention.

Her frame was lean but unmistakably strong, the kind of strength that didn’t shout but was evident in the way her muscles moved beneath her simple tunic.

She carried herself with the ease of someone who had honed their body into a weapon without ever needing to flaunt it.

Her presence, quiet and unassuming, seemed to demand respect without her saying a word, and that quiet confidence left a sharp impression on Gon.

Something about her made the usual hubbub of the training hall fade into the background, his focus narrowing on her alone.

Her hair caught the light, jet black and so glossy it seemed almost unreal, like polished stone.

It cascaded in smooth, straight lines past her shoulders, a waterfall of deep darkness that shimmered with every slight movement

She wasn’t carrying any weapons, no sword, no staff, nothing that suggested she was ready for battle.

She stood there, calm and unarmed, her posture relaxed yet imposing, as if she didn’t need the weight of a weapon to command attention.

Her hands hung loosely by her sides, empty and free