HC: Handyman | Ch. 207 - Wave 31

Wave 31 was about to hit.

Everyone was already gathered near the ditch, eyes flicking between the countdown and the bend of the canyon.

The soldiers stood a little taller now, steadier on their feet—perhaps emboldened by their new armor or their role in repelling the shagrats, the very beasts that had once broken their morale.

Jack’s teammates were arguing enthusiastically.

“I think it’ll be flyers this time,” Rob said.

“Nah, it’ll be marmosets,” Horace countered. “There are shagrats and marmosets in the courtyard. Wouldn’t make sense to include one and not the other.”

“Horace does have a point,” Amari said.

“I kind of agree with Rob,” Marie added. “Flyers usually show up around this point in the game.”

“That, or climbers,” Amari said. “Last time it was climbers who finished us off. We didn’t even make it to the flyers.”

“I hope it’s marmosets,” Horace muttered. “We’ve got nothing that deals with flyers. Trappers only get airborne traps at max level, and that’s after you buy a recipe that costs a gazillion XP.”

“Too bad that you guys haven’t yet found aid packages that deal with flyers.”

“Other than Christoff,” Marie reminded him.

“Or the Tramontane wind,” Amari added.

“Right. Right.”

“Maybe I should make some bows,” Horace said. “Think any of the soldiers can shoot?”

“Wait, I’ll ask. Oh, Edric!”

But Jack wasn’t listening.

He’d already finished the drafts for the chest plates and lower armor he planned to outfit the soldiers with. 

But ever since he’d picked the horn up, the rest had slipped away.

The black horn—beautiful, with its elegant curve and branching veins—sat in his palm, commanding all his attention. He turned it over, feeling its weight, its texture. Every line, every ridge. His thoughts spun with the possibilities.

The options were clear: carving horn, drinking horn, or blowing horn.

He’d wanted a carving horn ever since he saw Felix use his. While most potters relied on a kit full of specialized tools, Felix needed only one: his Triceratops horn. With it, he could cut, mark, scrape—do just about everything. Jack still remembered the fine detail in Felix’s pottery, the intricate carvings that looked like they’d been printed rather than etched.

Since pottery was Jack’s favorite minor so far, having a horn like that would be a serious upgrade.

But the horn in his hand was a far cry from Felix’s. Its tip was dull and stubby. He’d need to sharpen it before it could be useful, and worse—he’d have to saw off a good chunk of the base to make it more wieldy. So much of the material would go to waste. 

Still—having a carving horn like Felix’s? That would be awesome.

Then there was the drinking horn.

He didn’t know exactly what it did, but as a synergistic recipe between Brewing and Butchering, it had to offer something. Maybe spirits served in it would last longer. Maybe their effects would be stronger. A good brew could swing a boss fight.

But did he really want to turn this rare drop into a glorified cup?

Then again, what if it wasn’t just for serving drinks? What if it boosted aging success rates instead? That could open up an entirely new layer of Brewing.

Finally, the blowing horn.

He’d grown fond of his ocarina—not just for its portability, but for its haunting tone and the fact that no one else used it. But there were other instruments in the world. Other sounds. Other tools. And this horn... this could be something new.

From what he’d read, blowing horns were limited—they could only play three notes at most. But they were powerful, loud, and easy to switch to in the middle of battle. That alone made it tempting.

He scratched his head.

What did he really want? To level up his pottery? To boost his brewing? Or to add another instrument to his growing collection?

Was he a potter, a brewer, or a musician?

He glanced down at the horn again. It was a rare drop. There was no telling when—or if—he’d get another one like it.

“Argh! This is so hard to decide!”

“What do you think, Jack?” Rob asked, giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder.

“Huh? What?” Jack blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

His teammates burst out laughing.

“Where did your head go, cous?” Rob grinned. “We’re running a bet on what this next wave’s bringing. Marie and I have our money on flyers. Horace and Amari are betting on marmosets. What about you?”

Jack glanced at them, still a bit dazed. “Uh… marmosets?”

Horace puffed up his chest, triumphant. “Haha! That’s settled, then. Losers owe each winner fifty silvers.”

“Deal!” Marie said, sticking her tongue out.

Wave 31 comes. Beware!

Amari narrowed his eyes toward the canyon. “Heads up, everyone. Wave’s coming.”

The wind kicked up almost immediately, howling down the pass.

“Why is there no rumble?” Jack asked, frowning.

Usually, the warning was followed by a deep tremor—the unmistakable thunder of charging beasts. But this time, there was only a rising, sharp cry echoing off the cliffs.

“Hee! Hee! Hee!”

The sound made Jack’s skin crawl—like the canyon had learned how to laugh.

“We won!” Horace grinned, throwing his hands up.

Seeing his smug pose and Marie and Rob’s disappointed faces, Jack figured that must be the sound marmosets made.

Sure enough, black specks were already swarming the giant dandelion, climbing its stalk and blotting out the once-pristine white seeds. They moved fast—too fast—scrambling with jittery, insect-like motion.

The wave wasn’t charging down the canyon floor. Instead, it had split and was scaling both cliff walls, blackening the stone as it went. Within moments, the cliffs were crawling with them.

Marie let out a sigh and handed silver to Horace and Amari. She reached Jack last. “Here.”

“Why aren’t you bombarding the marmosets?” Jack asked, alarmed, as the swarm raced forward through the wind.

“No need,” Marie said, jerking her thumb behind her. “Thing about marmosets: they come in hordes, run like mad, and are super-squishy. Watch.”

Sure enough, the front runners were already falling. The cold wind alone was dealing AoE damage, tearing through the fragile creatures mid-charge.

Jack gulped as he saw the marmosets tumbling like leaves to the canyon floor. Now that they were closer, he could recognize them from the many carcasses scattered throughout the fortress: dog-sized bodies, wild white tufts fluttering in the wind, and jagged teeth protruding from their mouths. 

Amari clapped his hands, turning his back to the wave and shouting to make his voice carry over the marmosets’ screeches and the howl of the wind. “Ladies and gentlemen! We’ve hit the jackpot. The wind alone will handle the next 10 waves. Shall we go out and explore?”

“Sure!” everyone replied.

“Jack, do you have enough supplies to keep us fed?”

“I do,” Jack said. “Still got plenty of pickle jars.”

“Good! Now listen up—we probably won’t get another opportunity like this in this Breach run. Let’s make the most of it. Marie, Horace, you two head back for wave 35 just in case the elite poses a problem. Rob and I will stay out near the edges of the map for as long as possible.”

“Got it!” Horace said.

Marie looked down. Jack glanced at Rob and caught the flicker of sadness in his cousin’s eyes. It looked like the two lovebirds were being sent in different directions.

“Jack, what about you? Any plans?” Rob asked.

Jack scratched his chin. “I want to finish making the suits of armor for the soldiers. I do need more grass, though. Could I ask you guys to grab some?” he asked, turning to Horace and Marie.

“Sure!” Horace said.

“Fine,” Marie replied, a little less enthusiastic.

“Well done! Let’s go!”

Jack stayed behind, watching as the Tramontane blizzard finished off the marmosets. They didn’t stand a chance.

It felt wrong to just walk away. Someone ought to stay behind and witness it—watch them fall, wave after wave, charging headlong into an invisible death. There was something almost brave about it. Or maybe just tragic.

He knew Tramontane was overpowered and that the damage scaled with each wave, keeping it relevant well into the later stages. But to see it clear a wave on its own? That was something else.

Maybe it was just the shagrats that had skewed his expectations. They were bulky, tanky things that soaked up damage. The marmosets, by contrast, were glass speedsters—fast, frenzied, and feather-light on defense. The wind shredded them.

Still, even now, they were pushing forward—scrambling up the canyon walls, braving the gale with uncanny speed. Without Tramontane slowing them down, they would have been a nightmare.

Maybe I misjudged Piri, Jack thought. Maybe she’s not trying to murder us.

A pause. Then:

Or maybe she’s just setting us up for something worse. Yes. She’s waiting for us to lower our guard so that she can kill us all.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

After a few more minutes, a notification flashed:

Wave 31 cleared.

+1 Breach point.

The canyon was quiet again.

Jack sighed, rolled his shoulders, and crossed the ditch.

Alright. Time to do some butchering.

He made his way across the canyon floor to where the marmoset bodies had piled up the thickest. The wind had consistently finished them by the time they reached the middle of the field. It was now full of heaps of white-tufted limbs and frozen grimaces. 

Jack began pulling vases from his inventory, arranging them in a loose circle around him.

Once everything was in place, he played Clay Dome.

You’ve played [Clay Dome].

Performance grade: A+

All ceramics in the area are shielded from damage.

+2000XP in [Bard]

[Soulful Performer] triggers: Ceramics in the area become empowered.

+2450XP in [Bard]

“Oh?” Jack tilted his head. He’d been playing Clay Dome every chance he got lately. It had long since replaced Sitting Wind and Morning of Spring as his go-to. But this was the first time he’d seen [Soulful Performer] trigger with it.

“What does it mean that ceramics are empowered?”

He opened his equipment screen and inspected his armor.

Tempered Bulrush Rope Overall (Uncommon)

A finely tempered full-body tunic woven from bulrush grass. Strengthened through multiple rounds of oil, clay, and beeswax infusion, the fibers now offer solid protection with minimal weight. Further refinements grant resistance to both impact and cutting forces.

Crafting grade: B-

Tempering: II

Effects:

Constitution: 12

HP: 130

Stamina: 40

Defense: 26(+5)

Block: 15(+5)

Knockback resistance: 2

Fire resistance: 1

Cutting resistance: 1

Durability: 32

Requirements: Level 20+

Jack furrowed his brow. The armor’s boosted defense and block values were nice, but didn’t Clay Dome already make the wearer practically invulnerable? Why enhance those stats?

“Wait.”

He checked his earrings.

Clay Disk Earrings (Common)

A pair of clay disks beautifully ornamented which will go well with just about any ensemble.

Crafting grade: A

Durability: 21

Intellect: 4(+2)

Requirements: Level 10+.

“OK! That’s a little more useful,” Jack muttered. So it wasn’t limited to defense values—it boosted the item’s primary stat, whatever that happened to be. That made the [Soulful Performer] buff more versatile than he’d realized.

While the vases stood protected under the song’s effect, Jack got to work.

You’ve harvested the carcass of a White-Tuff Marmoset.

You’ve picked up 2 silver, 4 coppers, and 1x[Marmoset Pelt].

+30XP in [Butcher]

+153XP in [Butcher]

“Oh my goodness!” Jack exclaimed. His jaw dropped. A 500% XP bonus? Usually, the vase combo tripled his gains, but now it was six times more. He glanced at the jars surrounding him, still glowing with residual energy.

If he could consistently hit this kind of performance grade, his leveling curve would shoot through the roof.

He kept harvesting, laughing to himself. I can’t wait to go back to the Butchering XP store.

After a few more rounds, he had a solid idea of what the marmosets dropped: tail meat, pelts, and fangs. No bones, unfortunately—but he still had piles of shagrat bones stashed in his inventory, so that wasn’t a major loss.

He kept going until the field was clean.

Stretching his neck, he looked up toward the fortress. It was time to return. He still had armor to craft for the soldiers. But as he turned to go, his eyes drifted back to the horn tucked in his belt.

His mind tugged in two directions—soldier armor on one side, the black horn and its potential on the other.

Ch. 206 - The Spoils

INDEX

Ch. 208 - Cutting Corners