HC: Handyman | Ch. 163 - Vases

Your mead has aged successfully.

+3000XP in [Brewing]

Congratulations! You’ve reached level 8 in [Brewing]!

Jack’s breath caught in his throat.

“Wait… what?”

For a split second, he thought he’d misread it. His heart pounded as he scrambled to inspect the amphora, his fingers gripping the ceramic as if that would somehow confirm the results.

The glow of the system notification hadn’t vanished. The numbers were real.

A grin crept across his face.

Two successful batches. Two. The XP gain from aging at this tier was no joke—it had even pushed him up another level in brewing.

Maybe my odds aren’t as bad as I thought. Could it be my luck?

Amari had mentioned that the luck attribute could influence crafting. Maybe it had aligned with his other bonuses, stacking together to create this little miracle.

Should I risk aging it further?

If he left it in just a little longer… maybe he could squeeze out even more power from the batch. It was already at Tier IV. What was another few hours?

He felt like a man at a poker table, staring at a half-decent hand and convincing himself to go all in. Maybe—just maybe—one of these batches would make it to Tier V. Or maybe he’d lose everything and walk away with nothing but regret.

He exhaled sharply and shoved it into his inventory before he could talk himself into it.

Better to have it ready and not need it than to need it and not have it.

These two batches were already powerful enough to make a difference in future boss waves. A properly timed buff could mean the difference between holding the wall and getting overrun. He couldn’t waste one of his team’s trump cards on a gamble.

Jack took a step back, surveying the well. Amphorae filled the space, their shapes barely visible in the dim light. Yet only two had made it halfway up the ladder to Tier IV. The air smelled faintly of honey and fermentation, but there was also that sharp, sour bite of the mead that had gone bad.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

I’ll just have to keep brewing until I finally make a Tier VIII mead.

Right now, he only had one hive. That wasn’t enough. Honey was the bottleneck in his production, limiting how much mead he could craft at a time. If he wanted real results—if he wanted to push for Tier VIII—he needed more hives. More honey. More amphorae. More space to age them properly.

Gripping the iron chain, Jack climbed up the well, his sandals scraping against the stone as the sound of rattling links echoed in the confined space.

At the top, he spotted Esther working at the vat, methodically mixing honey and water. The rhythmic motion of her stirring paddle sent ripples through the liquid.

Jack smiled. At least there’s more on the way.

His eyes shifted past her to the row of unfinished vases near the fire, waiting to be shaped. His hands flexed instinctively.

He exhaled and pulled himself back to the present. Brewing would have to wait. He had other work to do.

He’d had his break from pottery. Now it was time to finish this batch of vases—before the next wave hit.

One by one, Jack grabbed the dry vases and placed them into the fire, carefully monitoring their placement to ensure even heating. Once they had hardened, he removed them, coating each in a thin layer of glaze made from finely ground flint. The mixture gave the ceramic a natural sheen, strengthening the surface while preserving its earthy texture.

As he worked, his mind drifted to the two new skills he had yet to experiment with in pottery.

One was [Wax Resist], a skill that allowed him to create seamless patterns by using wax as a barrier before glazing. He was curious to see just how precise he could make the designs.

The other was the One-Eyes' etching recipe. Depicting those four scenes of their struggles against the prehistoric bears would be quite a challenge. However, it was going to be an exciting new challenge. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of effects those scenes would have in his pots.

Jack exhaled. It was tempting to stop and experiment—to try something new instead of repeating the same process over and over.

But now wasn’t the time.

The priority was to make as many vases as possible in the best way he already knew how. Experimentation could wait. Right now, efficiency mattered more than creativity.

Before he knew it, he was done. Jack stared at the twenty freshly fired vases safely stored in his inventory. 

Not bad. 

Ninety minutes of work for this many pieces. A few weeks ago, it would have taken him twice as long, and the results wouldn’t have been nearly as good. He would have gotten mostly Cs and Ds, and if he were lucky maybe the odd B grade. However, this time around, there was only a single C. Most vases had come out with a B grade, and some even with an A grade.

He pulled up the details on one of the better vases.

Small Earthenware Vase (Uncommon)

A carefully carved ceramic piece shaped by an experienced hand.

Effect: Grants a 5% XP boost for any experience-gaining activity nearby at the expense of its durability.

Crafting Grade: A

B-Grade Bonus: +10% XP

Durability: 21

Artistry: 7

This vase alone boosted 15% of any experience gained. It was half of the buff provided by a much larger coiled vase.

Jack did some quick calculations. With all these vases set up at once, he could triple the experience gained for whatever. He already had a good idea of how best to use it, and he couldn’t wait to see everyone’s look on their faces once he showed them his brilliant plan. He was in for serious leveling if everything went according to plan.

He wasn’t the only one making progress, though. While he’d been firing the vases, a notification had popped up.

Marie has discovered a hidden package: [Flag of the Fortress].

He’d received it while he was firing pots, so he hadn’t had the chance to go through the details yet. He pulled up the details.

Flag of the Fortress

A tattered flag depicting a castle surrounded by stone walls against a field of amber.
Once, it flew high and proud. Now, the wind has carried it away, leaving it lost in the mountain slopes.

Effects (when flown on the fortress walls):

• +50% trap damage

• +20% durability to defenses

• +1 HP regeneration per second for all defenders

Jack let out a low whistle. That was a huge find. More trap damage meant their defenses would hit harder. The durability boost would reinforce the carriage, the walls, and the gate, and the passive HP regeneration would take some of the pressure off the team. 

The fortress had been holding out, but the waves kept getting tougher. This flag might just give them the edge they needed.

"Congratulations on finding the flag! That’s a great package!" Jack messaged Marie.

"Thanks! I’m heading back now. It’s almost time for the wave."

Jack glanced at the clock. She was right. Wave 16 was nearly here.

He rolled his shoulders and got to work, throwing ingredients into the pot. Soon, the familiar aroma of simmering stew filled the air, drawing attention from the NPCs.

Riku was the first to appear, his nose twitching. Esther followed close behind, smiling warmly as she spotted her son. Christoff stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching them. Jack noticed the way his gaze lingered on Esther. He wasn’t outright staring, but there was an awkward stiffness to the way he stood—like he wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how.

Jack ladled out the stew, handing the first bowl to Esther. She accepted it with a nod before passing it straight to Riku, who started eating immediately. Christoff accepted his bowl with a simple grunt of thanks before moving to sit nearby.

Marie finally arrived, a bundle of cloth tucked neatly under her arm.

“Welcome home!” Jack greeted.

Marie flopped down near the fire with an exaggerated sigh, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like she’d run a marathon. “I’m starving! What’s for dinner?”

Jack stirred the pot. “Uh… same thing as last time?”

Marie’s face fell. “Oh. That’s too bad. I was hoping for the other stew.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “The roach meat one?”

She gave him a deadpan stare. “Duh! Yeah!”

Jack winced. Right. She was a bug meat aficionado. “Sorry. I still have some in my inventory. I’ll make you some next time.”

“Good! Good!” She nodded eagerly, then perked up. “Maybe you can pickle the meat like you did with the other one. It will make it better.”

Jack hesitated. “I... guess I could—”

“Oh! And throw in some mushrooms. You can look for ones with a kick. You know, to balance out the sliminess of the roach meat.”

Jack’s eyebrow twitched. Was she planning on taking over the entire menu? He didn’t mind catering to the tastes of his teammates, but he wasn’t about to become Marie’s personal chef.

Her gaze drifted toward the second pot still on the fire. “What about that? Dessert?”

Jack chuckled. “Not even close. It’s a new recipe.”

Marie leaned forward. “What kind of food is it?”

“It’s not food. It’s called terracoat. If it works the way I think it does, it should strengthen equipment. But I need to let it sit in the fire a little longer before I can check the results.”

Marie grinned. “Great! If it works, you can reinforce my gear, too.”

Jack paused, suddenly feeling like he was sliding further into unpaid labor. “So now I’m upgrading your equipment too?”

Marie clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad we’re on the same page!”

Jack just smiled awkwardly and nodded. He didn’t love the idea of being Marie’s personal chef and general handyman, but… well, Marie was terrifying when she got mad. And he wasn’t about to poke the bear.

“Any news from the others?” Jack asked, steering the conversation away from ways in which he could further serve her highness.

“Nope.”

His gaze flicked toward the peak. Horace had been working on trapping that last bear. He hadn’t checked in yet. Then there was Amari. He had ventured to the very edges of the map. The last time he’d gone that far, he’d found Christoff. No telling what he might stumble into this time.

Jack considered sending them a message. His fingers hovered over the menu briefly before he clenched his fist and let his hand drop.

Before he could decide, Marie spoke up. “Thinking about messaging them?”

Jack glanced at her. “Yeah. Just to check in.”

She waved him off. “They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves.” Then, as if the conversation was already over, she nudged the flag toward him. “Here. While I finish eating, mind flying this on the wall?”

Jack took it. The flag.

“Sure. I’ll do it.”

He crossed the square and made his way up to the wall. Near one of the broken barricades, he spotted a spear shaft buried among the debris. The tip had snapped off, but the wood was sturdy. He pried it free from the dirt, tested its weight, and climbed to a high point on the wall.

Unfolding the flag, he secured it to the shaft and wedged the spear into a gap between the stones. As he stepped back, the fabric caught the wind, snapping upward in a single, crisp motion. Against the backdrop of the fading sun, the castle emblem stood proud, as if reclaiming its rightful place.

It didn’t just feel like a buff. It felt like a statement. We’re still here. We’re still standing.

A faint ripple of energy pulsed through the air, barely noticeable. Jack checked his status bar—there it was. The buff was active.

He let out a breath and looked down the road, imagining the moment the next wave would hit.

This time, it was just him, Marie, and Christoff.

Will we be enough?

Jack scanned their defenses. The ditches and the first field of traps came first. If the Ishychromys broke past the carriage, then the second field—lined with spike pits, snares, and bear traps—would be waiting for them.

His gaze shifted back to the flag, its fabric rippling in the wind. It granted a 50% boost to traps. That meant the snares would hold longer, the spike pits would do more damage, and the bear traps would be even deadlier. The Ishychromys were fast, but speed wouldn’t help if they got impaled.

The thought was reassuring.

Even if they broke through early, they’d be limping by the time they reached the wall. And if they made it that far? Marie’s bombs would be waiting.

Jack climbed back down to find Marie waiting for him, arms crossed, her gaze flicking between him and the flag.

“Good,” she said, nodding in approval. “That should make things a little easier moving forward.” She shifted her weight, cracking her knuckles. “So, feeling ready to fend off the wave on our own?”

Jack rolled his shoulders. “With you and Christoff? Yeah, I think we’ll be fine.”

Marie grinned. “Of course we will.”

Jack flexed his fingers. He didn’t feel like a man about to march into battle. He felt like a man going to work.

Just another wave. Just another day on the job.

Ch. 162 - A Plan

INDEX

Ch. 164 - XP Rocket