Gon's Harem System
Chapter 23: An unexpected twist

Chapter 23: An unexpected twist

"Are you absolutely certain those abilities can only be performed with mana?" Thane asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

His fingers lightly tapped the edge of the table, a subtle rhythm betraying his restless thoughts. His posture was composed, but the tension in his shoulders hinted at the gears turning in his mind.

"Thane, look at me," the Duke said firmly, his voice steady but carrying the weight of authority.

His piercing gaze locked onto Thane’s. "I’m fairly certain I’d recognize mana."

"You’re right, of course, Your Grace," Thane replied, his tone respectful yet subdued. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the Duke’s authority.

His fingers brushed over the hilt of the blade at his side, a habitual gesture that gave him a semblance of confidence

"Anyway, I signed him up for the Tournament of Mages," the Duke continued, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.

Thane’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "But, Your Grace," he began, a note of alarm creeping into his tone. "Isn’t that far too dangerous for someone who’s only just discovered his mana? Some of these mages have been training for years—decades, even."

His words spilled out in a rush, driven by a mixture of concern and frustration. He leaned forward, his hands gesturing emphatically as if trying to make the Duke see the enormity of the risk. "You’re throwing him into a pit with wolves, Your Grace. Do you truly think he’s ready for that? Do you think he’ll survive it?"

He searched the Duke’s face for any sign of doubt, any flicker of hesitation that might suggest the choice wasn’t final. But the Duke’s expression remained as resolute as ever, his unwavering confidence frustratingly difficult to shake.

"I know how dangerous it is," the Duke replied, his voice calm yet unyielding, like the weight of his words was carved in stone.

He leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze steady on Thane. "But a worthy heir to this duchy has to be able to face danger."

"He must learn, Thane," the Duke continued, his voice softening slightly but losing none of its conviction. "If he cannot rise to this challenge, then how can he hope to shoulder the burdens that come with this title? This duchy needs more than just a leader; it needs someone unshaken by fear, someone who can stare danger in the face and not falter."

He said it in a tone that brooked no argument, each word weighted with finality and authority. Lord Thane quickly realized that pressing the matter any further would be futile.

Thane clenched his jaw, the words of protest lingering on the tip of his tongue but ultimately swallowed.

He could see it now, the rigid determination in the Duke’s eyes, the kind that would not be swayed by reason or fear.

"A wise decision, Your Grace," Thane said, forcing his tone to remain even and composed.

Rising to his feet, he straightened his tunic, his movements deliberate and calm. "I’ll be on my way now. The journey took its toll on me."

The Duke gave a small nod, though his gaze had already drifted away, lost in thought. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair, his focus seemingly elsewhere, as if he were already planning the next step of his decision.

Without another word, Thane turned and made his way to the door.

As he reached the threshold, he paused briefly, glancing back for a moment.

But the Duke remained seated, unmoving, his attention firmly rooted in his own contemplations.

With a quiet sigh, Thane pushed the door closed behind him, the sound of the latch clicking echoing faintly in the corridor. The cool air of the hallway greeted him as he walked away, his mind racing with thoughts.

As Thane strode down the quiet corridor, his thoughts churned with unease. He couldn’t help but wonder how the Duke was able to stomach putting his own son in such a dangerous situation. It wasn’t just bold—it bordered on reckless.

Even if, by some miracle, the boy had managed to reach a high cultivation level (a possibility Thane highly doubted), he was still woefully lacking in the mastery of weapons. A high cultivation might grant him power, but raw strength alone was not enough to survive the Tournament of Mages. The arena would be filled with seasoned opponents—mages who had spent years, if not decades, honing their craft and sharpening their skills.

Thane frowned, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his own sword as his steps echoed faintly against the stone floor. Combat wasn’t just about mana or magic; it was about discipline, strategy, and the ability to wield one’s tools with precision. Without proper training in weapons, the boy would be at a severe disadvantage, no matter how much mana he might possess.

It puzzled Thane how the Duke, a man known for his sharp mind and calculated decisions, could gamble so much on such slim odds.

Was this truly a test of the boy’s potential, or something else entirely?

The thought gnawed at him, lingering even as he turned the corner toward his chambers, seeking the rest his body craved but his restless mind would not easily allow.

At this rate, Thane mused darkly, he wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to kill the boy—the Duke would take care of it for him.

The thought almost brought a bitter chuckle to his lips, but it quickly faded as another, more unsettling possibility came to mind.

What if the Duke wasn’t being reckless? What if he was so utterly convinced by what he had seen from the boy that he truly believed the lad was ready to enter the tournament?

Thane slowed his pace, his brow furrowing as the thought took root.

After all, the Duke wasn’t a madman. His decisions, no matter how extreme, were rarely without reason.

What had the Duke seen in his son that Thane had not? Could the boy have demonstrated some hidden potential—something extraordinary enough to warrant such confidence?

Still, Thane couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something, some crucial piece of the puzzle that the Duke had already grasped.

With a soft sigh, he continued down the hall, his mind tangled in questions that offered no immediate answers.

If the Duke truly believed in the boy’s readiness, then perhaps Thane would have to take a closer look for himself.

The thought sobered him up, his earlier smirk fading as his brows knitted together in contemplation. He chewed on his bottom lip, a nervous habit he rarely indulged in but couldn’t suppress now.

If the boy was indeed as strong as the Duke seemed to believe, it would complicate things far more than Thane cared to admit.

The prospect was unsettling. A powerful opponent wasn’t just harder to eliminate—it meant every move would have to be precise, every action calculated to perfection. There would be no room for error.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he continued down the corridor.

It wasn’t in his nature to back away from a challenge, but this was shaping up to be far more dangerous than he’d anticipated.