Gon's Harem System
Chapter 61: Second day of the tournament

Chapter 61: Second day of the tournament

Gon looked outside his window, his breath fogging up the cool glass as he gazed out into the morning. It was a few hours past dawn, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue, stretching endlessly over the horizon. The sun had just begun to climb higher, casting long, soft shadows across the ground. The world outside seemed so peaceful, so still, a stark contrast to the restless feeling gnawing at him from within.

Gon sighed, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like the cool morning air drifting through his open window.

Pushing himself away from the sill, he rose to his feet, stretching his arms as if shaking off the stillness that had settled over him.

The faint creak of the wooden floor beneath him was the only sound in the quiet room, apart from the rhythmic hum of insects outside.

It was almost time for the tournament.

The thought sent a ripple of energy through him, replacing the calm of the night with a subtle, growing tension.

His heart picked up its pace—not out of fear, but anticipation.

Gon stepped toward his wooden dresser, his fingers moving with familiar ease as he grabbed his sword from the top.

The polished metal gleamed under the dim light, its surface reflecting the deep blue hues of the night seeping through the window.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt, lifting it carefully, feeling its familiar weight settle into his grip.

For a split second, he simply admired it—the fine craftsmanship, the way the blade caught the light just right, the memories etched into every mark along its edge.

Then exhaling slowly, he turned toward the door, his heart steady, his mind sharp.

With a swift motion, he grasped the handle and pulled it open.

A soft creak echoed through the quiet hallway as he stepped out, the cool air brushing against his skin.

Without looking back, he shut the door behind him and strode forward, leaving the comfort of his room behind.

Gon’s hurried footsteps barely made a sound against the cold stone floor, lost amid the steady hum of activity within the castle.

The castle was alive with movement—guards marching in tight formations, servants carrying trays of food and supplies.

He weaved through them until at last, he stepped through the wide archway leading into the courtyard.

The moment he emerged, the cool air embraced him fully, carrying with it the scent of fresh earth and dewy grass.

Gon exhaled, his breath visible in the crisp air.

His heart pounded—not from nerves, but from the undeniable thrill of what lay ahead.

The courtyard looked much the same as it had the previous day, though now it buzzed with an even greater energy.

The stone walls, high and imposing, enclosed the vast arena where the tournament would soon unfold.

The seating area, a grand semicircle of tiered stone benches, was already half-filled with spectators.

Some leaned forward with eager expressions, their eyes darting across the competitors as they whispered predictions to one another.

Others spoke loudly, gesturing animatedly as they debated past matches and speculated on who would emerge victorious this time.

As Gon stepped further into the courtyard, a few of the spectators took notice.

Conversations that had nothing to do with him suddenly stopped mid-sentence, eyes flickering in his direction.

For a brief moment, there was silence—just a beat, just long enough for him to feel it.

Then, as if a dam had broken, a fresh wave of murmurs surged through the crowd.

Some whispered behind cupped hands, their voices urgent but hushed, while others spoke freely, making no effort to hide their curiosity.A few pointed, their gazes sharp with speculation, while others nudged their companions, their faces alight with excitement or skepticism.

"It’s the duke’s son," someone muttered under their breath.

"I heard his last fight was quite impressive ," another voice added, the words laced with admiration.

"Do you think he’ll win?" a younger spectator asked, only to be met with a scoff from an older man.

"Win? Based on what I saw in the last match, he’ll be lucky to last a few rounds."

Gon didn’t need to hear every word to know what they were saying.

He could feel it in the way their eyes followed him, in the way their voices rose and fell with unrestrained intensity.

But he didn’t react. He didn’t slow his pace. He simply walked forward, his expression unreadable, his focus unshaken.

Let them talk. Soon, when the tournament began, words wouldn’t matter.

Most of the competitors had already gathered in the courtyard, their presence adding to the thick tension in the air.

Some stood in small groups, exchanging quiet words or sizing each other up, while others leaned against the stone walls, lost in their own thoughts.

The sharp scent of metal and leather filled the space, mingling with the cool night breeze.

Gon walked toward them with steady steps, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides.

He could feel the weight of the stares—some indifferent, some calculating, and a few openly hostile.

This was no friendly gathering; every person here was a potential opponent, and soon, none of them would be able to hide behind words.

A familiar smirk greeted him as he approached.

Dina.

She stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes flicking over him like a hawk sizing up its prey.

Her hair was no longer bunched up like it was last night.

"You’re here," she said, amusement laced in her voice. "I was starting to think you had chickened out."

Gon narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening at the insult. His voice came out low and sharp.

"I’m not even late," he growled back at her.

"Woah, calm down, tiger," Dina replied, throwing her hands in the air in a dramatic display of mock surrender.

A teasing grin tugged at the corner of her lips, her eyes glinting with amusement.

She was enjoying this—poking at him, testing his temper, seeing how far she could push before he snapped.