HC: Handyman | Ch. 191 - A Little Push

Jack logged back into the game. One by one, the others appeared beside him, their arrivals unnoticed by the nearby NPCs, who paid no mind to players materializing out of thin air.

"Hi again, everyone," Horace said with a wave.

"Jack, were you able to get hold of Rob?" Amari asked.

"I did," Jack replied.

"Well?"

Jack smiled. "He's in."

"Good. Just stick to the plan. I know you can pull this off."

Jack nodded. "What about you guys? Where are you heading?"

Amari gestured toward the fortress. "I’ve already turned that place inside out. If the deserters used a secret exit, I couldn’t find it. So... I’m switching it up. I haven’t checked the lake yet. Maybe I’ll get lucky."

Jack turned to Marie. "And you?"

Marie gave a half-shrug. "Forest. Round seven. I don’t have much choice—I need to stay close. Christoff and I are the only ones left on guard duty. Even if I don’t find any packages, I can at least gather ingredients for poison."

"Alright," Jack said. "Be safe out there."

"You too," Amari replied with a grin. "Go get Rob. Good luck with your rescue mission."

"Ditto," Marie echoed.

The two headed off, leaving Jack and Horace behind.

“So, Jack. Everything ready yet?” Horace asked.

Good question. Was it?

From waves 22 to 26, Jack had barely rested. Every spare minute had gone into weaving rope, gathering clay, firing tubs, and mixing terracoat. It had been a blur—but the effort was paying off.

The results surrounded him now: the active [Retreat] skill icon hovering in the corner of his vision, soot-darkened vats simmering with thick mixtures, and rope armor steeping in the brew.

He’d finished two full sets of vases, each etched with scenes of The One-Eyes and the Bears. One set would bring him back to the Breach. The other—his backup.

But getting in and out was the easy part. The real challenge was breaking through the forces surrounding Rob. For that, every stat boost mattered. Success—or failure—hinged on the gear he was crafting for Horace.

After mentally checking off the list, Jack finally replied. “We’ve got everything we need. Almost. The overalls are still tempering. You sure you don’t want the sandals?”

“Nah. They barely cover my feet. I’ll stick with my boots.” He tapped the hat on his head. “But this? Feels right. Light and weirdly comfortable.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“How much longer until the overalls are done?” Horace asked, leaning forward with interest.

Jack wasn’t sure if Horace was eager to go rescue Rob—or just excited to complete his outfit to match the hat he already adored. “Shouldn’t be long. Give me a second.”

He stepped up to one of the two massive tubs. Building them had taken multiple trips to the clay deposit and hours of slow, coil-built layering.

Firing them had been the real challenge. In the jungle, he could dig a pit and fill it with fuel. But here, on frozen rock, he’d had no such luxury. He’d been forced to build a towering pyre—burning through nearly a third of his fuel stores—to fire vats this size. It was wasteful, but necessary. Nothing else could hold something as large as a rope overall.

Now the clay vats stood side by side, radiating heat. Inside, a bubbling mix of oil, wax, and clay churned steadily, infusing the overalls with strength. Flames licked at the tubs’ bases, casting a bright wall of heat into the night.

The Breach had gone dark hours ago, and with fires this large, the campsite now glowed like a forge. Jack exhaled. Between these two fires, a third for cooking, and the pyres he’d used for the vats, their fuel stores were nearly gone. But that was fine. He wouldn’t need the heat much longer—and there was always more fuel to buy in the city or harvest in the forest beyond the wall.

He checked the mixture in each vat, then turned back to Horace with a thumbs-up. “A few more minutes.”

“Can’t wait,” Horace replied with a grin.

“Time to rack up some extra XP,” Jack said, grinning back.

“Hmph… I so envy you…”

Satisfied that Horace was jealous enough, Jack arranged the vases in their usual formation to boost the yield. Then he lifted his ocarina and began to play Clay Dome. The vases, the tubs, even the mud hut nearby vibrated in response. A soft shimmer spread outward as the protective dome took shape.

You’ve played [Clay Dome].

Success rate: B

+900 XP in [Bard]

+9,320 XP in [Bard]

The progress bar ticked forward. A gentle chime followed.

You have tempered [Bulrush Grass Overalls].

Bulrush Grass Overalls +1 → Bulrush Grass Overalls +2

+200 XP in [Butchering], [Bushcraft], [Pottery], and [Beekeeping]

+2,230 XP in [Butchering], [Bushcraft], [Pottery], and [Beekeeping]

Moments later, the second bar filled, and another XP boost rolled in.

Jack pulled the overalls from each vat and laid them out to dry. As the coating cooled and hardened, a faint crimson sheen shimmered across the surface—proof that the tempering had taken hold.

“One fresh clay armor for Mr. Horace,” Jack announced.

“Thanks, bro. Not bad,” Horace said, running a hand along the surface.

“Not bad at all,” Jack murmured, opening the display and scrolling through the armor’s stats.

Tempered Bulrush Rope Overall (Common → 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: C → B-

Tempering: II

Effects:

+5 Constitution → +12 Constitution

+50 HP → +130 HP

+15 Stamina → +40 Stamina

+10 Defense → +26 Defense

+6 Block → +15 Block

+2 Knockback Resistance

+1 Fire Resistance

+1 Cutting Resistance

Durability: 18 → 32

Requirements: Level 20+

He smirked. “And you said you didn’t want the sandals,” he added, swiping to the next screen.

Tempered Bulrush Rope Sandals (Common → Uncommon)

These once-simple sandals have been hardened through a dual-stage tempering process. They retain their lightweight build while offering increased speed, durability, and resistance—perfect for swift movement through hostile terrain.

Crafting grade: C- → B-

Tempering: II

Effects:

+5 Agility → +10 Agility

+15% Movement Speed → +25% Movement Speed

+4 Defense → +12 Defense

+3 Block → +6 Block

+1 Cutting Resistance

+1 Water Resistance

Durability: 12 → 22

Requirements: Level 19+

The upgrades were significant—an all-around boost.

“You think this’ll be enough to handle IronIre’s crew?” Jack asked.

Horace nodded. “We can only hope. Let’s suit up.”

They stepped into the gear. The overalls had deepened to a smoky red, like sun-baked earth. The wax finish gave them a lacquered sheen, catching the light in subtle flickers of amber and crimson. It almost looked alive.

“Look at us—like two charming drifters,” Horace said.

Jack smiled. “We look way too cool.”

They stood side by side. Ready. Maybe even formidable.

“All right, does this mean we’re ready to go?” Horace asked.

Jack nodded. “Rob said he’d take the morning off work, so he should be logging in soon.”

“He’s skipping work for this?” Horace raised an eyebrow.

Jack shrugged. “That’s how much this account means to him. When I told him the plan, he said we’d have better odds during the hours he’s usually offline. IronIre knows he only plays at night. Maybe we can catch them off guard.”

“I doubt they haven’t thought of that,” Horace said. “But hey—if Rob’s confident, I’ll take it. Shall we?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, giving his inventory one last look.

He made sure he had everything: the latest batch of mead—possibly useful in a pinch—the ocarina, and just enough wares. He was traveling light, by design. He wanted the space for whatever supplies they might find on the way back. Horace’s pack would help too.

They made their way to the back wall of the fortress, passing his two hives. The older hive was still in queen-rearing mode. It’d be at least another day before production resumed. 

Maybe I should buy some honey, too, Jack thought.

They climbed the wall and stared out over the gargantuan precipice beyond.

“Who’s going first?” Horace asked, his voice a touch shaky.

“What? You scared?” Jack teased.

“No! I’ve died a thousand times in-game. It’s just... the fall. Even if it’s virtual, it still freaks me out.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. It’s the whole... being completely aware the entire way down. You know the only thing waiting is the ground—”

Jack shoved him.

“Jack! What in the world?!”

Laughing, Jack jumped after him.

His vision went black, and a flashing notification appeared.

Would you like to use [Lazarus' Herb]?

He declined.

Jack and Horace landed in the cemetery, dust scattering around them. Horace was still flailing and yelling. Jack, meanwhile, was doubled over laughing.

“Seriously?” Horace gasped, spinning on him. “You shoved me off a cliff!”

Jack wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Hey, it was the fastest way down. And come on—admit it—it was kind of fun.”

Horace crossed his arms, his freshly tempered overalls still steaming from the respawn animation. “You’ve got a twisted sense of fun.”

Beyond the rows of crooked gravestones, the monolithic wall of Embersgate loomed, its red sigil blazing like a brand against the night sky.

Jack’s smile faded as he took it in.

Horace tugged the brim of his wide straw hat down to shade his face. “We’re out of the Breach now... but keep your head down. IronIre’s not going to just forget us.”

Jack followed suit, pulling his own hat low.

Beneath the cover of darkness, they slipped along a gravel path that wound through the graveyard and down a sloping street bordered by mossy stone walls and flickering lamp posts. The air was thick with the tang of oil and ash—Embersgate’s signature scent.

As they neared the main road, player traffic thickened. Horace kept to the edge, cloak drawn tight around his shoulders, head bowed.

“I’m not paranoid,” he muttered, “but if any of IronIre’s scouts catch a whiff of us, we’re toast.”

“Relax,” Jack said. “Just two Ronin in matching epic armor. Completely inconspicuous.”

Horace smirked. “Don’t forget charming, handsome, and mysterious.”

They reached the coach square without incident. The plaza buzzed with movement—NPC drivers shouting, players bartering, stagehands loading gear. Massive horses stamped and snorted in their harnesses, steam rising from their flanks. A sign swayed overhead: Stage Gate Transit — Embersgate Hub.

It reminded Jack of his arrival, of that first meeting with Amari. Now, he stood beside Horace.

They wove through a line of carriages, each bound for a different outpost. Eventually, they found theirs. This one was better built than the ramshackle coach that had brought Jack from Bright Hill. It had a roof, proper benches, and even a suspension system. Three players already sat inside, decked out in high-end gear that made Jack and Horace look like vagabonds.

The driver, a clean-cut woman with all her teeth—a notable upgrade—sat tall at the reins. A second woman leaned against the driver’s perch, arms crossed, tricorn hat tipped rakishly.

“Next departure’s Pearlsgate! Ten gold a head!” she called out.

Jack groaned as he checked his funds. “Ten gold? What a rip-off.”

“Faster than walking, my good man,” Horace replied, already fishing out his coin.

A month ago, spending this much on a ride would’ve been unthinkable. But time was ticking in the Breach, and he had the gold now.

Grumbling, he handed over his share. The coachwoman flipped the coins into a small iron box beside her seat.

“Climb aboard, lads. We shove off when the coach fills, or in four minutes—whichever’s first.”

The two of them boarded. The benches creaked under their weight.

“So far, so good,” Jack muttered.

“This was the easy part, Jack,” Horace said.

After two more minutes, the coach ended up filling, and they departed earlier.

The coach rocked gently as they settled in, rolling eastward along the outer wall. Embersgate’s shadow stretched long behind them, the city’s noise fading into the distance.

Sleep tugged at Jack. His last thought before drifting off was of [Lilly’s Lullaby], the bard song he still hadn’t practiced. Supposed to put others to sleep, too... Should try that sometime… I really should...

He leaned his head against the frame. And then he was gone.

Ch. 190 - Tomorrow

INDEX

Ch. 192 - Focus