Chapter 153: Chapter 152 – 26 Gaw: Manners Maketh Man

Jessica blushed helplessly at the sincerity of Mr. Newman’s words. He’d merely thanked her, but the way he did makes her feel so… satisfied. Not in any sexual way (Jessica would have found that horrifying), but like putting the last piece into a puzzle.

The [Gentleman] flashes Jessica his pearly white teeth before addressing the masked man by her side. “Now, if it is not too presumptuous of me, may I assume you are here to take part in the test?”

“Test?”

“The test of gents, young man; an evaluation of aptitude for those who aim to join our distinguished association.”

Jessica and Quasi share a look. Quasi shrugs.

“Sure. We’ll go with that,” Quasi replies.

The [Gentleman] slams the butt of his cane on the floor. Tap! The report echoes, audible everywhere, but nowhere deafening.

“Most fortuitous then.” He moves to the side while fully opening the door. “Please, do come in. It has been quite some time since a new applicant has arrived.”

Quasi raises an eyebrow but accepts the invitation. He enters the mansion, closely followed by Jessica.

Just as one might assume from the exterior, the interior is tastefully done and spotlessly clean. The entrance area is large, so as to house a gargantuan metal edifice of a tophat standing in the center. Around it, paintings of various men clothed extravagantly can be seen on every wall, all seemingly facing the statue with a look of fervent respect.

Quasi begins to have the hint of an inkling that these [Gentlemen] are possibly more pompous than himself.

“This way, please.”

The two follow Mr. Newman to a luxuriously homey parlor. A fireplace burns with a roaring blue flame while cozy seats are near enough to feel the warmth, but not too close as to be overwhelmed by it.

“Please take a seat. Refreshments will arrive presently.”

Just as the two sink into the inordinately comfortable chairs, half a dozen men dressed as [Gentlemen] swiftly enter the room. Each wears a colorful tophat, a clean suit, and holds a cane in their gloved right hand. Upon their left, they carry trays of drinks and food, which they place upon the tables between the seats.

The [Hero] frowns at them. Not one is below level 150. Three of them are even over two hundred.

He knew the class was powerful after he read Mimir’s notes, but this is something else.

He steals a glance at Jessica and sees her blushing, cheeks as red as tomatoes. He looks back at the men. Each wears his own suave or smarmy smile. Only then does his brain register that they are all unnaturally handsome, resplendent in their masculinity. Clearly, they are distracting Jessica’s attention with subtle and nefarious skill work.

“So-” Quasi tries, but the rhythmic tap of a cane interrupts him. He turns toward the sound. A well-aged man walks slowly, purposefully, into the room. Like the others, he wears a tophat and suit, but unlike them, he uses the cane to walk, which generates the tapping sound. Aged he is, weak he is not.

 

 

The man walks between the chairs and stops in front of the fire. After a moment’s regard, he turns around and faces his guests. The [Master Gentleman] doffs his hat and bows, hat to chest, with such perfect poise and solemnity that even Quasi is left breathless.

“I am Hannibal Dextrous, the [Guildmaster] of our little family. We welcome you, [Hero] and Avatar, to our humble abode.”

The men stationed around the room bow as one.

“Welcome,” they say in perfect unison.

Quasi stops drooling at the mention of his class. Only after a second of thought does he realize that the old man probably has [True Sight] and would be able to use the skill silently. Heck, he might have a skill that’s even better.

Jessica stands and curtsies, “Thank you for having us.”

Quasi nods. He doesn’t like being outdone.

[Perfect Execution]

In a single motion, the [Hero] stands, doffs his hat, and copies the old man’s bow. From the sincerity of his hat, to the earnest anchor of the cane, Quasi transcends mockery and eschews flattery in favour of Perfection.

“Quasi Eludo.”

When he lifts his head, he finds the man frowning and shaking his head.

“As distressing as it is disappointing. Truly, to be so deficient in such a key skill illustrates your lack of formal training”

“What?” Quasi states, dumbfounded.

The old man continues, all too ready to explain. He lifts his cane and points at Quasi’s feet. ”An introduction isn’t about a flawless movement, it is a presentation. A [Gentleman] sets his image with his bow. When you bowed, half an inch of your leg was hidden, reducing the impact of your introduction.” He raises his cane to point at Quasi’s waist. “On top of that, the waist of your coat is too long. When you bow, it hides a bit of your body, as though to conceal an ulterior motive.”

He then raises his cane to the [Hero]’s face. “A [Gentleman] should never wear a mask. We are men of honor, and to hide implicitly impugns upon your own integrity. We stand before the world as ourselves and fear not its prejudice nor judgement.”

The old man lowers his cane. “You have failed the first test. Unfortunate, but you may redeem yourself.”

He turns and begins walking. “Follow me. The next test shall be administered shortly.”

Quasi removes his mask and throws it to Jessica.

“I’ll be back.”

She raises her hand to him. “Should I-”

The [Gentlemen] quickly surround her. One of them gently takes her outstretched hand.

“Madam, please sit. Your companion will return in due time. For now, allow us to keep you company,” he says. Somehow, without her noticing, Jessica has been seated in a comfy chair. Two men have begun massaging her legs while another works her shoulders. A fourth deftly removes her mask and begins feeding her grapes.

All thoughts of Quasi are completely forgotten as she releases a contented moan.

 

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I follow the old fart through the mansion, keeping my eyes on him as we walk through twisting and turning hallways. After some time, we reach a stairway leading downward. I follow silently, taking a moment to think about how easy it is to create large underground facilities. All you need is a [Geomancer], heck, even an [Earth Mage] and you can build whatever the hell you want. If the mage has proper skills, they could reinforce the stone to support big, vaulted caverns or large superstructures.

Thus, I am not surprised when I enter an underground training facility the size of a football field…

Okay, I’m still surprised. I was expecting at most a tenth of what I’m currently seeing.

“A [Gentleman] must be above the common rabble, able to meet any expectations despite how outlandish they may be. Cleaning, crafting, sewing, none may be beyond our expertise. For a true [Gentleman] is a man with both knowledge and ability.”

The old man walks to a nearby desk and chair.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

He taps the chair. “Sit I will bring you the written portion of the exam.”

I shake my head in annoyance.

It’s fucking midterms all over again. There’s a reason I was doing poorly in school until I first became a hero, and it’s not because I was a fucking idiot.

… Okay, maybe I was a bit of an idiot, but tests are the worst!

I sit my butt down on the surprisingly comfy wooden chair and await my execution.

The old man returns and plunks about five thousand pages of expensive paper on the table.

“This is the written portion. For most, it takes a day to finish,” he then adds a quil alongside ink, “but a [Gentleman] should be able to get it done in hours.”

He then turns away from me and then starts walking away. “Good luck… [Hero].”

I watch him leave, and then I turn to the stack of papers.

Fuck… I’d rather fight Shade again instead of dealing with this. Stabbing myself in the eye doesn’t seem so bad either. Maybe if I die, they’ll let me in posthumously…

With reluctance, I take the quil and begin the exam.

 

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Jessica moans loudly as a creamy white liquid splashes on her skin, followed directly by a groan as her flesh is slowly caressed and molded.

“Oh my. Your lower back is quite tense, madam. I’ll have to take care of that”

The [Gentleman Masseur] gently kneads her back, starting at the top of her hips and working along her spine.

“Mmhmmm,” is all she can respond with.

“Ohhh,” the [Masseur] says aloud as he applies more pressure to her back at an angle. A sharp crack follows.

“Fernando!” Jessica squeals in surprise.

“Nothing to worry about, madam, simply releasing pressure. The sound is completely normal.”

“Normal…” she mimics back, taking a moment to peek at her surroundings.

She is lying prone on a table, naked as the day she was born, while a muscular (‘and incredibly handsome,’ Jessica muses) man gently puts his hands over her body. She can feel her cheeks redden at the thought, only for that thought to vanish with much of her reasoning as the massage continues.

She groans again as he reaches her shoulder blades. He applies another squirt of lotion. The feeling can only be described as divine, but leaves her feeling guilty at the same time.

“Is Quasi… all right?”

“Absolutely,” Fernando begins, “Your acquaintance is merely undergoing the second of the three tests.”

“What- mmmm… What were the trials again?”

The [Masseur] starts to work now on Jessica's neck, “The first trial is the test of introduction. It is a relatively difficult test, one which begins the moment you make to accept the testing.”

“He failed.”

“Yes, it is unfortunate, but he can still redeem himself as long as he passes the next two tests.”

“Sec-ughhh-ond.”

Fernando applies pressure to the neck, causing a crack as he tilts her head to the left, and then another to the right.

“The second test is,” The [Masseur] reflects, “arguably the most difficult. It is the test that I have never seen anyone pass…”

 

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“Astounding,” Hannibal says, stumped. “You completed my exam in under three hours, and you even scored seven percent above the passing grade. I apologize, but this is rather unexpected.. Well done, young man, well done.”

Quasi Eludo glares at the smiling old man with a look that could murder. The test was long, abysmally long. It quizzed him about classes and skills, queried him for nuances of wyvern genitalia, inquired his knowledge of the migratory habits of swallows, demanded a probabilistic market analysis of Arachne silk futures in light of the current war, and expected him to derive the gravity tensor for a non-rotating singularity from first principles.

No normal person would ever be able to succeed. You need skills, knowledge, high dexterity, and clairvoyance to even complete it. The only redeeming aspect of the test is that most of the questions were satisfied by short answers.

“Do I pass?”

“Certainly. Yes. Most definitely,” he waves his hand, “Now come, let us not daddle. The final trial awaits. Please follow me to the arena.”

Quasi smiles.

This should be easy.

 

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Hannibal hides his frown when he sees Quasi's cocky and confident smile, his anticipation all but ruined by that expression. It is already clear to the old man that the final test will be a failure.

Unfortunate, but a [Gentleman] must meet proper standards. Exceptions must never be made or the class would be tarnished.

Hannibal walks to an open area with a great deal of space and with enough defensive enchantments that the stone walls are as strong as adamantine enhanced steel.

He comes to the center of the rather large arena. He taps his cane on the floor, causing the enchantments to activate. Stone shifts and moves, surrounding both himself and the young man in a box where escape is near impossible except for a small door. He turns to Quasi.

“The final test is one that many have failed.”

Quasi chuckles. “I won't fail.”

Hannibal sighs and shakes his head. He then points at his head, specifically the hat atop it.

“Your test is to remove my hat from my head using any means necessary, so long as your methods remain non-lethal. Do remember, this is a test designed for [Gentleman], so act accordingly.”

Quasi raises his hand.

Honests raises an eyebrow at the childish movement. “Speak.”

“Are undead allowed?”

“A [Gentleman] does not need minions. He is capable of solving all of his problems with only his wit and cane.”

The man nods. “Simple enough.”

Hannibal takes a slow breath then stands his cane in front of himself, his hands folded upon the handle.

“You may begin.”

The world seems to slow down as the younger man flexes his knees. Suddenly, his legs extend and he bursts forward with impressive speed. Quasi moves obviously, practically telegraphing his attacks as he slashes at Hannibal’s hat with his cane.

At that range, his [True sight] lights up the enchantment on the man's cane.

Interesting…

With a flick of his wrist and a slight step to the left, he shifts his body away from the incoming strike while his cane slaps the man's outstretched hand. At the same time, his legs push off the ground and one rises to kick the man’s shoulder.

To Hannibal’s surprise, the man raises his leg and blocks his strike, a deadly mistake since his kick is strengthened by twenty-two separate passive skills.

He feels his leg impact Quasi’s shin with such potent explosive force that the young man is blown away. The [Hero’s] body cartwheels a dozen meters before landing on his feet.

The young man looks up. “Fucking, what? What the hell was that?” he curses while flexing the leg he used to block.

Most people would have their leg shattered by that blow. Hell, most people wouldn’t be able to register that much and would be writhing on the floor in agony.

“All right, okay, that fucking hurt.”

Hannibal frowns. “Please avoid using vulgar language in my presence. It is unbecoming of a [Gentleman].”

The young man takes a moment before tipping his hat and replying.

“My apologies, sir, the shock and pain led to a lapse in judgement.”

Hannibal nods and then retakes his stance with palms on his cane and legs together.

The young man grunts and then charges Hannibal again. The old man doesn't move until Quasi slashes with his cane. Hannibal moves back, allowing the attack to strike air. The young man presses forward, swinging his cane while giving chase.

For the next two minutes Hannibal dodges attacks with minimal movement, punishing any and all of Quasi’s openings with a slap from his cane. Eventually, the young man overextends himself as he baits Hannibal by attempting to block a reprise with his own cane. But, before the canes connect, Hannibal lets go of his. He lowers his posture and then kicks forward with his long legs. His leg moves faster than the young man, in his poor current position, can react. Hannibal’s leg contacts Quasi’s chest. An explosion goes off like a hammer striking metal, Quasi flies away with a sonic boom. His body slams and dents slightly into the stone wall.

The young man's body slides down the wall until he hits the ground. He coughs up blood.

“I thought this was supposed to be non-lethal?” he groans.

Hannibal opens his hand, his cane teleports into his open palm. He takes his usual position.

“A [Gentleman] knows how much force is lethal and how much is not. You, Quasi Eludo, have a reinforced skeletal structure, raising your endurance beyond three hundred. Against you, such a strike could hardly be lethal.”

Quasi forces his body to stand. He coughs again, a bit more blood dribbles down his chin and onto the floor. He glares at the [Guildmaster].

“Ughh, you are so lucky that most of my skills are lethal,” he taunts.

“If you find the trial too difficult, you’re free to give up.” the old man replies.

Quasi glares for a long moment before smiling.

“Fine then. You want me to get serious? Then I will.“ Quasi tosses aside his cloak, and then his shirt. “[Marrowsteel Armor]”

Hannibal watches blood spray as hundreds of bone wires erupt from Quasi’s back and wrap around his body till every inch is covered in pure white except for two glowing, purple eyes.

“[Bone Wings]”

A second spray of blood accompanies the extrusion of two huge, bat-like, bone wings and speckles the pristine white armor with ominous red.

“All right, round two! Let’s go!”

The young man's wings beat once, launching him at Hannibal.

Hannibal dodges with a sidestep, but the young man twists his wings, rolls to the side, and kicks. The speed at which the young man moves is completely different from before, so fast that Hannibal is forced to parry the blow. Quasi’s hand slashes forward with his cane.

The [Guildleader] frowns. He twists his hips, dodging the dangerously enchanted cane. As it passes him, Hannibal riposts with a kick. The [Hero] counters with his own while in midair.

The kicks make contact with such force and speed that he and Quasi are forced apart.

Quasi reorients with his wings, flaps quickly, and accelerates towards Hannibal once more. The fight begins in earnest as the combatants trade blows, their movements so fast that anyone with less than a hundred perception would only see two blurs.

They fight at this speed for several minutes until, to Hannibal’s surprise, his own stamina dips enough that he fails to avoid a kick. The strike hits his face and he is sent flying. His body slams the stone wall hard before he falls to the ground.

 

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There’s just something about hitting an old man that just feels wrong. Like, maybe it's the way they look afterwards or just the thought that they are frail and could have broken something.

Which, in this case, is a pretty real possibility. I did slap kick his face pretty hard.

I stand where I am, my wings spread, ready to react to whatever the man might throw, and he throws hard. Every kick, punch, and swing of his staff was like a speeding truck. A truck that dodges my cane…

Seriously, his speed and movement are impressive, but having them and the precision to completely dodge my weapon is outright amazing.

“It's been a while…,” the old man muses.

I quickly silence my thoughts and take a stance, my bone wires wriggling. I watch the old man stand back up with his hat somehow still on his head. It doesn't seem like it even moved at all.

“...since I have met someone who can best me in physical combat.”

He chuckles and raises his hand to his face. His white glove comes away stained with blood.

“Then again, it is not so much you that I am fighting and as it is your armor. That is the secret, is it not? You aren't actually moving your body. Your muscles can't move that fast, but your armor can, and you can manipulate bone after all.”

The old fart sighs. “It's an interesting skill, one which I have no easy way to overcome.”

The [Vibration Master Gentleman] tips his hat in my direction. “Well done, Quasi Eludo, well done indeed. It looks like I will need to get serious.”

He raises his cane and holds it sideways in both hands. He pulls his hands apart, and with them moves the cane, revealing a hidden blade with holes throughout the metal. He unsheathes his cane sword and holds it en garde.

Hannibal stares at me and I feel the air grow heavy.

 

 

“Fuck m-”

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“Hah, full house, aces over queens, beats your straight.”

The armoury [Guard] lays out his cards. Gun Widow levels its barrel at the man’s face.

“Okay, okay,” the [Guard] removes the second Ace of Spades from his hand and replaces it with the Five of Diamonds squirreled in his sleeve. “Two pair.”

Gun waggles its barrel in satisfaction and scrapes the pot into its growing pile of winnings.

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