Gon's Harem System
Chapter 94: Dina’s clones

Chapter 94: Dina’s clones

"I think he’ll win the whole thing," a third person said, her voice calm yet certain.

She was a woman with her head wrapped in a shawl, her sharp eyes peering out from beneath the fabric as she spoke.

The others glanced at her, some nodding in agreement, while others remained skeptical.

Before anyone could respond, a man sitting in front of them turned back, his expression clearly unimpressed.

With a sharp hiss, he scoffed, "Tchh! The boy won’t even make it past this round."

His tone carried nothing but dismissal, as if the very idea of Milo winning was laughable.

He shook his head, resting an elbow on his knee as he glanced toward the battlefield. "He’s strong, sure. But arrogance is his weakness. You saw how he toyed with his last opponent, he likes to play, and that will be his downfall."

"He lacks the professionalism," the unimpressed man added, his voice flat but firm. "He treats the tournament like a joke. Sooner or later, he’ll meet someone who takes it very seriously, someone who won’t give him the chance to play around. And when that happens, he’ll lose."

The first match was between Reno and Dina.

The crowd roared as they stepped into the massive stone arena, their names echoing through the stands as spectators cheered and shouted.

The anticipation was palpable, a living force in the air, thick with excitement and tension.

Above them, the sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays beating down relentlessly, casting sharp, jagged shadows on the sandy floor.

The heat made the air shimmer slightly, as if the battlefield itself was alive, waiting to witness yet another clash of power.

Reno adjusted the red bandana around his neck, tugging it slightly to make sure it was secure.

It was an old piece of cloth, worn from years of use, but he never entered a fight without it. It was a habit, a ritual, one that steadied him before every battle.

With deliberate steps, he moved to the center of the ring, his boots pressing lightly into the sand.

His sword was already drawn, its thin, gleaming blade reflecting the harsh sunlight.

His posture was relaxed yet purposeful, his weight balanced perfectly between his feet.

He didn’t fidget, didn’t shift unnecessarily. Every inch of him spoke of control, of experience. But his face... his face remained unreadable.

The crowd watched, waiting for some sign of emotion, excitement, anticipation, maybe even nerves.

But Reno gave them nothing. His eyes, sharp and focused, were locked on Dina.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever strategy he had in mind, he kept it hidden behind that calm, unshaken exterior.

Because in a fight like this, showing too much was as good as losing before the battle even began.

Dina, in contrast, rolled her shoulders and grinned, the expression full of mischief and confidence.

Where Reno stood still and composed, she was in constant motion, energy practically buzzing off her.

The green tint in her short hair shimmered as the sunlight caught it, making it appear almost alive with every movement.

She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, loose and ready, like a fighter itching to unleash what was inside her.

Unlike Reno, who held his gleaming sword steady in his grip, Dina wore no weapons.

She didn’t need them.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, carrying above the restless hum of the crowd.

"LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!"

A sharp crack of sound rang through the air as Reno sprang into motion as soon as he heard the announcement.

He was fast, faster than the eye could follow.

One second, Reno stood still, his posture unreadable.

The next, he was a blur of motion, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision, its razor-sharp edge flashing toward Dina’s throat.

But Dina was already gone.

A rush of wind and dust marked the spot where she had been just a heartbeat ago.

She moved as if the air itself had carried her away, her body vanishing from his strike like a wisp of smoke.

Reno’s blade cut through empty space, meeting nothing but the whisper of the breeze.

A flicker of laughter came from behind him.

A second Dina stood behind him.

Reno’s sharp eyes flicked to her just as his blade cut through, too easily.

There was no resistance, no solid impact.

The moment his sword met its target, the figure shimmered and dissolved, dispersing like mist caught in the wind.

A clone.

The realization struck him at the same moment the real Dina appeared at his side, moving like a phantom carried by the breeze.

Her grin was still there, playful and full of confidence, but her movements were all business.

Before Reno could react, her fist was already rocketing toward his ribs.

Fast. Too fast.

At the very last moment, Reno twisted, his instincts razor-sharp.

Dina’s fist, meant to land solidly against his ribs, barely grazed his side instead.

The force of her strike still carried enough wind to sting, but it was a far cry from the clean hit she had intended.

Using the momentum, Reno slid backward, his boots skimming lightly across the sand.

His sword was already raised, gleaming in the sunlight, held in a firm but flexible grip.

For a brief moment, he said nothing.

He simply watched her. Analyzing. Calculating.

Dina grinned, her green-tinted hair catching the light as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Not bad, pretty boy," she teased, her voice carrying just enough amusement to taunt him. "But you’re gonna have to do better than that."

And then she lunged.

But she wasn’t alone.

As she shot forward, another Dina materialized beside her.

Identical in every way,same stance, same speed, same sharp glint of mischief in her eyes.

The two figures moved in perfect sync, mirroring each other’s every step, every motion, as if the air itself had birthed her twin.

Reno’s grip on his sword tightened, but he didn’t flinch.

His mind worked quickly, analyzing.

The two Dinas split apart at the last moment, one darting to his left, the other to his right.

They struck simultaneously, one aiming high, the other low.

The crowd gasped, eyes darting between them, trying to follow the dizzying speed of her movements.