Gon's Harem System
Chapter 44: Surprise attack

Chapter 44: Surprise attack

The words hung in the air, carrying an unspoken lesson.

Those in the audience who had witnessed the previous match—the twists, the surprises, and the unexpected victor—paused to consider the announcer’s point.

The wise ones, the more seasoned spectators, exchanged knowing glances.

They immediately understood what the announcer was trying to convey: appearances could be deceiving, and battles were not won by looks alone.

Ethan might seem superior now, but so had others before.

And Gon, standing firm despite the overwhelming odds, might just have something hidden up his sleeve.

After all, fights weren’t just about strength or size. They depended on many things—skill, character, cleverness, and the ability to stay calm under pressure.

A sharp mind could turn the tide of battle as easily as a sharp blade.

Gon kept this thought close as he focused on the rhythm of his breathing.

In and out, slow and steady, grounding himself amidst the noise and energy of the crowd.

He couldn’t afford to let nerves or doubt creep in.

His eyes stayed locked on Ethan, carefully observing every movement, every small detail that might give him an edge.

Ethan stood with an almost casual confidence, his stance relaxed, his smirk unwavering.

Gon studied the way Ethan shifted his weight.

His gaze dropped briefly to Ethan’s gauntlet, it shone brightly, but what about the rest? Was there a weak point, a chink in the armor that could be exploited? His mind worked quickly, running through strategies and possibilities.

Every fight had its loopholes, its flaws waiting to be uncovered.

Gon just needed to find Ethan’s before the battle ended .

Gon’s heart raced as the crowd’s roar filled the arena.

The energy was electric, and his nervousness clung to him like a second skin. Across from him, Ethan cracked his knuckles, his confidence radiating.

Ethan’s grin widened as he sized up Gon. "This’ll be quick," he muttered to himself, though his sharp eyes betrayed a warrior’s instinct—never underestimate anyone.

The announcer raised his hand, his voice booming through the arena, "Alright, let the match begin!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, stomping their feet and chanting for the clash about to unfold.

Gon adjusted his stance, hands trembling slightly but raised in defense.

The sun was continuing its slow ascent , inching toward the horizon and painting the sky with warm, golden hues that stretched far and wide.

Its fading light spilled over the edges of the towering arena walls, casting long, uneven shadows that seemed to dance across the ground like restless spirits.

The air carried a faint chill even as the sun shined in the sky.

Every crevice and corner of the arena glowed faintly, bathed in the sun’s rays, creating an almost magical stillness as if the world itself were holding its breath.

The crowd’s murmurs never ceased, rising and falling like the gentle hum of a restless tide.

Conversations intertwined, creating a steady, low buzz that filled the vast arena.

Everyone wanted to know how the duke’s son would perform in a fight.

The air felt heavy with anticipation, as if the collective excitement and unease of thousands pressed down on the space.

Every cheer, every whispered word, seemed to ripple through the crowd, carrying the weight of expectations and unanswered questions.

It was a living, breathing tension, growing thicker with each passing moment, as though the very atmosphere was bracing itself for what was to come.

The ground beneath Gon’s boots was harsh and unforgiving, a surface of jagged stone and packed dirt worn smooth in some places and rough in others.

Each step he took felt deliberate, his balance adjusting to the uneven terrain that seemed to challenge him before the fight had even begun.

Gon could feel the weight of his sword resting firmly in his hand, the heft grounding him amid the tension swirling in the air.

The cool metal of the hilt pressed against his palm, its chill seeping into his skin and traveling up his arm like an icy current.

It was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, a constant reminder of the tool he carried and the purpose it served.

The blade felt alive in his grip, its sharp edge whispering promises of both protection and destruction, as though it understood the challenge that awaited.

Gon wiped his palms on his trousers, the coarse fabric rough against his damp skin. His hands trembled faintly, betraying the nerves he worked so hard to suppress.

The simple motion was an attempt to ground himself, to push away the tension coiling in his chest like a tightening spring.

He took a slow, measured breath, trying to find a moment of stillness amid the storm of his thoughts.

The weight of the arena, the eyes of the crowd, and the challenge ahead pressed heavily on him, but he forced his focus back to the present, willing his body to steady and his resolve to harden.

Ethan stood across from him, leaning casually against his gauntlet, his blonde hair glinting in the fading light.

His smile was effortless, almost mischievous, as though he was already thinking about his victory.

"Ready?" Ethan asked, his voice light and teasing. He cracked his knuckles, still grinning.

Gon swallowed hard, trying to mask the fear that was beginning to rise in his chest. I can do this, he told himself. I have to. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

The announcer’s voice rang out, "FIGHT!"

Before Gon could even react, Ethan was already on the move.

His feet barely touched the ground as he dashed forward, his gauntlet glowing with a faint energy.

Gon’s instincts kicked in.

He raised his sword just in time to block a powerful punch aimed at his head, but the force behind it rattled him.

Ethan wasn’t holding back.

The strength in his gauntlet sent a shockwave up Gon’s arm, threatening to knock his grip loose.

Gon quickly stepped back, using his shadow step to vanish and reappear behind Ethan, hoping to catch him off guard.

He swung his sword down with precision, aiming for Ethan’s back.