Gon's Harem System
Chapter 93: That Milo boy

Chapter 93: That Milo boy

The morning air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of dew and distant fires. He inhaled deeply, letting the cool breeze fill his lungs, grounding him in the moment.

From the courtyard below, the sounds of the waking world reached him,clanking weapons, hurried footsteps, voices talking in hushed but urgent tones. Fighters preparing for their matches.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Gon said without looking away from the window.

The door squeaked open, and a firm voice followed.

"The tournament is about to start, Lord Gon," the guard announced.

Gon let out a long, weary sigh as he pushed himself up from the floor.

Slowly, he reached for his sword, his fingers wrapping tightly around the worn handle, the familiar weight grounding him.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the weapon in his hand. The dim light in the room glinted off the steel, casting faint reflections on the walls.

Taking a deep breath, he finally turned toward the door.

His steps were slow but certain, his boots pressing lightly against the wooden floor with each movement.

The faint creak of the boards beneath his weight was the only sound in the quiet room.

With one last glance over his shoulder, he gripped his sword tighter and stepped forward, pushing the door open.

Cool air rushed to greet him, brushing against his face like a whisper.

He stepped out to find the seats even fuller than usual.

Rows upon rows of spectators filled the arena, their voices blending into a low, restless hum.

The air buzzed with anticipation, a heavy energy pressing down on the battlefield like an invisible weight.

More people always turned up to watch the final matches.

It was the moment they had all been waiting for—the clash of the strongest, the fight that would decide everything.

Some leaned forward in their seats, eyes gleaming with excitement, while others whispered among themselves, placing last-minute bets on who would win.

Besides, many of the townsfolk had learned that the young heir had made it to the final this year.

Word had spread quickly through the streets, from the bustling markets to the quiet alleyways, carried by excited whispers and eager chatter.

Some called him a prodigy, destined for greatness, while others remained skeptical, waiting to see if he could truly withstand the pressure of the final battle.

Now, they had all gathered to witness it for themselves.

The arena was packed tighter than ever, with townspeople squeezing into every available space, their eyes fixed on the battlefield.

Merchants had abandoned their stalls, blacksmiths had left their forges, and even the elderly, who rarely ventured far from their homes, had made the journey to see how the tournament would end.

Would the young heir rise to claim victory, proving himself worthy of his lineage? Or would he falter at the very last moment, falling just short of glory?

The question hung in the air, unspoken yet powerful.

And as Gon stepped forward, he could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.

While some had come to witness his triumph, others were there for a different reason entirely.

Rumors had spread about the young heir fainting in a previous match, whispered from ear to ear like wildfire.

Some said it was from exhaustion, others claimed it was fear, and a few even suggested that he simply wasn’t strong enough to handle the pressure of the tournament.

Now, those who had heard the tale watched him closely, their eyes filled with curiosity and doubt.

Would he stand firm until the very end, proving the rumors wrong? Or would he collapse once more, right at the height of the battle?

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, carrying over the restless murmurs of the crowd. The moment had finally arrived. "TODAY IS THE FINAL ROUND IN THE DUCHY STAGE OF THE TOURNAMENT OF MAGES!"

A wave of excitement rippled through the spectators.

Cheers erupted, loud and full of energy, as the eager audience prepared to witness the battle that would decide everything.

The banners of various noble houses fluttered in the wind, held high by those who had come to support their champions.

Some spectators clapped, others stomped their feet against the stone stands, and a few simply watched in silence, their eyes locked on the battlefield with anticipation.

The announcer turned his head slowly, his gaze sweeping across the massive arena. From the lowest seats to the highest rows, every inch was packed with people, their faces alight with anticipation.

He could see it in their eyes, the hunger, the excitement, the unshakable desire to witness something unforgettable.

Some leaned forward, their hands gripping the edges of their seats, eager for the clash to begin.

Others murmured to their neighbors, exchanging hurried predictions and last-minute bets.

A few simply watched in silence, their sharp eyes studying.

"ONLY EIGHT MAGES REMAIN AT THIS STAGE OF THE TOURNAMENT!" The announcer declared, his voice ringing through the arena. "LOXI, RENO, SERA, DINA, ERLO, BUHRAMA, GON, AND MILO!"

He let the names hang in the air for a moment, giving the crowd time to react.

A wave of noise swept across the spectators as cheers erupted for their favorites. Some shouted names in support, while others groaned in frustration, already debating the outcome.

"AND OUT OF THESE EIGHT, ONLY FOUR WILL REMAIN AT THE END!"

The audience stirred, voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of predictions and arguments.

Some pointed eagerly at the competitors, sharing their thoughts with those beside them.

"That Milo boy," one of the spectators muttered to his friend, nodding toward the battlefield. "He’s the best of the bunch. He’ll surely stay."

"I agree," another chimed in, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. "Did you see how he absolutely handled that girl last time? I’ll tell ya it looked like it was close but to me It seemed like he could’ve beaten her much earlier, and he was just drawing it out for his own pleasure."

The small group of onlookers nodded in agreement, their voices carrying an edge of admiration.