He had no intentions of letting the outco repeat itself, but he knew better than to let Milo’s threats get under his skin.
Gon scoffed, a sharp, dismissive sound that carried across the tension-filled air like the flick of a whip.
His dark eyes narrowed, scanning his opponent with a mixture of disdain and boredom, as if trying to determine whether the boy standing before him was even worth his ti.
Gon tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a wry, almost predatory grin. "Such a loud mouth," he muttered, his voice low and dripping with mockery, "yet not a shred of fighting ability to back it up."
He let the words hang in the air, his tone deliberately slow and asured, as though savoring the humiliation they were ant to inflict.
The boy flinched, his confidence faltering for a mont before he tried to mask it with an unconvincing smirk. Gon took a step forward, his movents deliberate and fluid, like a predator sizing up its prey. Every gesture spoke of his superiority, a silent declaration that he was leagues beyond the boy in both skill and resolve.
Milo opened his mouth, a retort forming on his tongue, but the words never ca.
A shadow fell over the both of them, long and imposing, stretching across the ground like a silent warning.
The air grew heavier, charged with an unfamiliar presence that demanded attention.
Gon’s eyes flicked upward, his sharp instincts catching the movent first.
Milo, slower to notice, stiffened when he finally saw it—a figure towering over them with an air of authority that neither of them could ignore.
The figure’s silhouette was sharp against the dim light, shoulders broad, stance steady, as though they had been standing there for longer than either boy realized.
"Having fun, are we, boys?" the voice cut through the tension, calm yet laced with sothing unyielding.
It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. The tone carried enough weight to silence any reply that dared form.
Milo’s bravado drained visibly, his defiant posture lting into sothing closer to unease.
Even Gon, as composed as he was, allowed his eyes to narrow slightly, assessing this new presence with quiet calculation.
The tension shifted, and the space that had felt like their battleground monts ago now belonged to soone else entirely.
"Lord Thane," Milo stamred, the na tumbling from his lips before he could stop himself.
His eyes widened in recognition, and his face flushed as if realizing his earlier bravado had been witnessed by soone far above his station.
He quickly straightened his posture, squaring his shoulders in a poor imitation of composure.
"Yes, sir. We were just... catching up."
The words ca out rushed, his tone overly polite, almost desperate to smooth over any impression of wrongdoing.
Gon, however, remained silent.
His gaze stayed fixed on Lord Thane, his expression unreadable but his sharp eyes betraying the subtle calculations running through his mind.
The man before them, Lord Thane, didn’t imdiately respond.
He studied the two boys with an air of quiet authority, his piercing gaze shifting between Milo’s feigned composure and Gon’s unwavering stance.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but whether in amusent or disdain was impossible to tell.
The silence stretched, and the weight of it bore down like a storm about to break.
Milo’s fingers found the edge of his shirt, nervously fidgeting with the fabric as though the act might ground him in the suffocating silence.
He kept his gaze lowered, avoiding the piercing eyes of Lord Thane, though the weight of the man’s stare was impossible to ignore.
"I see," Lord Thane replied, his words drawn out in a deliberate, slow cadence that sent a chill through the air.
Milo felt the intensity of Thane’s gaze on him, unwavering and unrelenting, like the man was dissecting every inch of him without moving a muscle.
It was a stare that demanded submission, a silent order that grew heavier with each passing second.
Finally, the boy got the hint.
His fidgeting hands stilled, and he mumbled sothing incoherent under his breath, the words barely audible but enough to break the silence.
"I-I’ll be on my way now," Milo stamred, his voice shaky as he spoke.
Without waiting for a response, he turned abruptly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.
The tension in the air seed to push him forward, urging him to leave before Lord Thane said anything more.
His movents were clumsy, betraying his nervousness, and before anyone could stop him, he bolted.
One mont he was there, and the next, he vanished into the distance, leaving only the faint echo of hurried footsteps behind him.
After Milo’s hurried departure, Lord Thane turned his full attention to Gon, his expression calm but with a flicker of amusent dancing in his eyes.
Gon t his gaze, his stance remaining steady, though his tone shifted slightly as he offered a greeting. "I didn’t know you were back, Lord Thane," he said in a warm tone.
Thane’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, as though he could sense the layers behind Gon’s calm exterior.
He tilted his head slightly, studying the boy before him with an air of curiosity, as if Gon were a puzzle that had yet to reveal its full picture.
"I got back this morning," he replied smoothly, his tone both casual and purposeful. "I wouldn’t miss the beginning of the tournant for anything in the world."
Gon’s face broke into a wide grin, his excitent montarily softening his otherwise sharp features. " neither," he said with unrestrained enthusiasm, the tournant clearly sothing he had been anticipating.
Lord Thane’s expression shifted, a faint smile tugging at his lips as if he shared the boy’s excitent.
But the smile didn’t last. It faltered and then disappeared entirely, replaced by a more thoughtful, asured look.
His gaze sharpened slightly, as though weighing the significance of his next words.
"I learned you’re participating this year," Thane said, his tone even but edged with sothing that felt like concern laced with caution.
Reviews
All reviews (0)