HC: Handyman | Ch. 194 - IronFoot & Co.

Jack looked toward the cemetery gates. The shadows beyond stretched long and uncertain.

Horace and Jack stood side by side before the graveyard.

“Can you see them?” Jack asked.

Horace turned his back on the cemetery. “Eleven o’clock. Three near a tombstone.”

Jack squinted until he spotted the IronIre players. One had a massive shield strapped to his back, the guild’s crest stamped clearly across it.

“What do you think? Can you tell their levels?”

Horace glanced over his shoulder. “A tank, a swashbuckler, and a beastmaster. All over level thirty-five.”

“Is that... good? Or bad?” Jack asked.

Horace smiled. “It’s good. I think we’ve got a real shot.”

“They’re fifteen levels higher than us,” Jack said, swallowing hard.

“True. But the swashbuckler’s the only real threat for burst. The tank and beastmaster are mostly for control. And three’s manageable—I was expecting four. Maybe five. Your cousin’s idea worked. They don’t expect him to log in this early.”

“Or maybe it’s because Rob already lost five levels, and he's so weak now that they think three is enough.”

Either way, this was their best shot at saving Rob from IronIre's clutches.

Horace reached into his inventory and drew out three vials, each filled with a different-colored brew. He downed them in quick succession, with no hesitation.

Jack followed. His consumables—handpicked by Amari—had cost a small fortune. He uncorked the first vial, amber and syrupy, and took a cautious sip.

A rush of heat surged through his chest.

You have consumed: [Emberroot Draught].

+10 Focus for 15 minutes.

“Woof,” Jack muttered, wiping his mouth. “That one bites.”

Next came a vivid blue liquid. Ice-cold and sharp.

You have consumed: [Chillveil Infusion].

Channeling time for skills is slightly reduced for 15 minutes.

He smacked his lips. “That was... actually kind of nice.”

The last vial was a muddy green. Jack held his breath and gulped it down.

It hit hard—bitter, acidic—but the effect came fast. His thoughts snapped into focus, clear and quick.

You have consumed: [Mindthorn Extract].

+30% Resistance to Status Effects for 20 minutes.

Jack exhaled, eyes fluttering as the effects settled. His limbs felt lighter, his mind alert.

He was nervous, sure—but he’d come too far to flinch now.

“I’ve got one last thing for us,” Jack said, pulling out a small amphora from his inventory. It held the only batch of Breach honey mead to reach Tier IV so far.

As he opened it, a fragrant aroma wafted up—sweet herbs and alpine blossoms, light and clean with a sharp edge. He poured two glasses, one for each of them.

The taste was smooth and floral, with a crisp finish and lingering warmth.

You have drunk: [Mead IV].

+20% Attack and +5 evasion for 20 minutes

“Evasion? Nice. That’s a good buff,” Horace said, nodding.

“What does it actually do?”

“Chance to dodge incoming attacks. It’s solid.”

“Let’s hope it’s enough,” Jack said quietly.

“Hey,” Horace said, cracking his knuckles, “we’ve got top-tier buffs. They probably have none. Numbers are even. And we’ve got surprise on our side.”

He made it sound simple—but they both knew how easily things could go sideways.

Jack turned to Horace and pulled out his ocarina. “I’m ready.”

Horace rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.

“Okay, Jackie-boy. Here’s the plan. When this starts, stay behind me. And whatever happens—don’t stop channeling [Retreat] once you’ve got me shielded. Got it?”

Jack met his gaze. “Got it.”

“Then let’s do this.”

*

IronFoot, Viper, and TwirlFlicker were lounging among the crooked gravestones of Pearlsgate Cemetery, lazily camping Rob’s spawn point. The fog drifted low across the ground, muffling the occasional scream as another player respawned nearby, still half-convinced they were being chewed by whatever killed them.

TwirlFlicker sat cross-legged atop a tombstone, spinning a worn deck of cards between her fingers. “Full house,” she said brightly, scooping up the pile of pebbles they were using for chips. “Again.”

“Lucky streak,” IronFoot grunted, adjusting the straps on his plated gauntlets. “Or you’re cheating.”

TwirlFlicker just winked, neither denying nor admitting to the accusation.

A long-limbed constrictor coiled around Viper’s shoulders suddenly tensed, lifting its head to taste the air. Viper’s eyes narrowed. “Two incoming.”

IronFoot followed his gaze. Two players were moving through the mist, both clad in matching red-glowing gear. One was broad-shouldered with a shield strapped to his back—clearly a tank. The other walked beside him in the same tempered armor.

“Could they be Rob’s friends?” Viper asked.

“Looks like they’re just heading somewhere,” IronFoot said. “Probably just passing through.”

“I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling,” Viper muttered. The constrictor’s tongue flicked again, as if in agreement.

IronFoot sighed, studying the pair more closely. “The tank’s boots are for level 20 warriors. He doesn’t even have his subclass yet. You’re overthinking it.”

“I don’t recognize that armor,” Viper replied. “And tempered sets, both of them? On level 20 players? You don’t spend that kind of coin unless you're planning something.”

“That just means they’re rich,” TwirlFlicker said. “Whatever. They’re not here for us. Deal!”

The two figures passed by without slowing or glancing their way.

“See?” IronFoot said to Viper.

Viper scratched the back of his head. “I guess you were right.”

Then, a shimmer of blue light lit the fog near Rob’s gravestone.

Viper’s smile sharpened. “Well, well. Sleeping beauty’s up.”

IronFoot rose smoothly, buckling his shield into place. “He never logs in this early. I’ll open with a stun. Viper, follow up.”

Rob reappeared in a flash of light. He was missing his boots and his gloves, vestiges of his last two deaths, when he’d dropped a piece of gear. He was already moving before the effect fully faded.

Shield Bash!

IronFoot surged forward, his shield igniting with blue energy as he closed in for a stun.

Just before it connected, something slammed into him from the blind side—hard enough to cancel the animation. His vision jolted.

Horace has stunned you. You’ve been stunned for 3 seconds.

IronFoot blinked hard, teeth grinding.

Horace? The tank we saw earlier! That was the Steel Dancer?

He’d heard of Horace before—the Steel Dancer. IronIre had clashed with Amari’s crew more than once. He hadn’t been there personally, but the name stuck. So did the footage. There were maybe five tanks in the game who could go toe-to-toe with the Slayer one-on-one, and this was one of them.

But seeing him now, level 20, still able to intercept and interrupt? Wasting his Shield Bash? That burned.

IronFoot snarled.

Battle Call!

All debuffs are cleansed.

+20 defense and +20 block for 5 minutes.

A deep, echoing roar pushed out the stun. A golden shimmer flared around his armor, and power surged through his limbs.

He turned. There stood Horace, shield in one hand and warhammer in the other, calm and confident. Several steps behind him, the other player in matching armor held something in his hand. A grenade, perhaps?

“TwirlFlicker—kill that one.”

“On it!” she chirped, unsheathing her rapier and darting toward the second invader.

“Viper, stop Rob before he runs away! I’ll follow up.” 

Constrictive Arrow!

Viper raised her short bow. The snake uncoiled from his shoulders and slithered smoothly down his arm, stretching taut between bow and string. Its body flexed, poised like a living arrow trained to snare.

IronFoot lined up another charge on the fleeing rogue.

Heroic Charge!

He became a golden streak, the skill hurling him toward Rob.

But just before he reached his target -

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Horace beat his warhammer against his shield in rapid rhythm. A ripple of pressure exploded outward.

Warrior’s Taunt!

You’ve been taunted by Horace. Your body moves on its own.

IronFoot’s skill was interrupted again. The UI flickered, and his target lock jumped, redirected straight to Horace. His limbs moved without him. Viper’s arrow veered off course and missed Rob as he turned toward Horace, too. TwirlFlicker, who’d been almost upon the other player, was also approaching Horace.

He canceled three of our skills with one taunt?!

It wasn’t only that. He’d timed the skill perfectly to catch him just as he was about to leave its range. 

The three players helplessly attacked Horace with mechanical, auto-attacks. Horace danced through them, his body shifting just enough to slip under a sword or tilt with the perfect angle to avoid an arrow.

Somewhere behind, a flute hummed.

The music was faint at first, then deeper, heavier.

The other guy is a bard! That thing I thought was a grenade must be an instrument! Don’t tell me he’s going to debuff us.

As the melody finished channeling, all that happened was for their armor to glow even redder. However, nothing had happened to them. 

IronFoot breathed in relief. The taunt was finally over. He glanced in the direction that Rob had gone. He was long gone. The Slayer would be furious at them for this. Unless they could offer him something to appease him. IronFoot immediately adjusted his strategy.

“Forget Rob,” he snapped. “They’re with Amari. Take them out. That will make the Slayer happy.”

He turned back to Horace, his full attention locked now. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. To think you can handle three level 35 players at only level 20?”

“It helps when the three players aren’t good,” Horace responded.

IronFoot clenched his jaw. “You’ve dug your own grave.” He turned to his friends. “Let’s get rid of him first. Otherwise, he’ll just keep blocking us.”

Sword Slash!

IronFoot’s sword glowed red as it slashed across Horace’s chest.

Null!

“Uh? Null?!”

TwirlFlicker circled around Horace and attacked him from the rear, across his back.

Triple Slash!

Null! Null! Null!

Her attacks bounced off as they hit his armor.

Viper’s arrows flew toward Horace. He dodged one, but the other one hit his hat.

Null!

“What in the world?! How are attacks coming off as null?!” Viper complained.

“It must be some sort of special skill. Just keep at it. It can’t last too long.” IronFoot said between sword slashes. 

Skills that nullified damage were exceedingly rare. Tank skills like [Copper Skin] reduced damage by 90%, and there were stronger versions that reduced damage up to 99%... But nullifying damage entirely? He had never heard of such a skill.

Then it finally hit him. The flash of red. The song. The bard! It must be the effect of the bard's melody.

They kept attacking. Five seconds passed.

Ten seconds.

15 seconds.

“It’s not wearing off!” Viper complained.

“Let me try something,” TwirlFlicker said.

Hamstring Slash!

Null!

Horace’s movements became sluggish. Horace still managed to dodge a few hits, but they were starting to land more often now. 

“It’s also null, but the slow stuck. CC still works,” TwirlFlicker said.

Excited to see the tank weakened, Viper joined in.

Constrict!

His snake slithered toward Horace, coiling up his leg and tightening around it—immobilizing it.

But even so, every damage notification was still the same.

Null.

Still null! That bard’s buff is too OP. Just who is that player? Thinking of which... why is everything so quiet? Why isn’t the bard playing anything anymore?

IronFoot finally looked toward the bard.

The bard was standing in a bright circle. Perfectly still. Channeling something long.

IronFoot gulped. If one song made Horace invincible for this long, what’s a long cast going to do?

“TwirlFlicker! Stop the bard!”

Just to be safe, IronFoot triggered crowd control on Horace. He slammed the pommel of his sword against his shield.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Taunting Shout!

Unlike Horace’s earlier version, IronFoot’s skill exploded outward in a dramatic pulse, the animation larger and louder.

“Have a taste of a real tank’s power,” IronFoot muttered as Horace stiffened—forced into motion, attacking without control, like a puppet on strings.

TwirlFlicker broke from the group, dashing toward the bard.

But Horace was already in motion.

Battle Call!

Taunting Echo!

The taunt dispelled IronFoot’s control and redirected all three players again. This one didn’t force mechanical movement—but it did prevent TwirlFlicker from increasing her distance.

IronFoot’s jaw clenched.

He was fifteen levels above this man. He probably had upgraded versions of every skill in Horace’s toolkit. He was a full-fledged tank—and Horace didn’t even have the tank subclass yet.

Still, he was making a fool of him. At least now, he finally knew what his plan was.

We’ve been dancing to his tune the whole fight. He’s been trying to keep us off the bard from the very beginning.

He didn't know what the skill channeling did, but he wouldn't let it activate, no matter what.

Ch. 193

INDEX

Ch. 195