HC: Handyman | Ch. 162 - A Plan

As the hat touched the surface of the bubbling hot terracoat, it hovered for a moment, as if it had landed on something solid. Jack narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t the reaction he had expected. The viscous sludge churned beneath it, but the hat remained stubbornly afloat, refusing to sink.

He crouched closer, watching intently. He hesitated before reaching out, then gently pressed down on the brim, attempting to submerge it. The moment one of the fibers dipped beneath the surface, the terracoat reacted.

It was like dropping something into quicksand. The sludge latched onto the hat, the thick liquid clinging hungrily to the grass fibers. Jack barely had time to pull his hand back before the mix yanked the hat downward in one smooth motion. A deep glorp echoed from the pot as it vanished beneath the surface.

A sharp chime rang out. A translucent progress bar flickered into existence above the pot.

Jack’s eyes locked onto it, a sense of vindication settling in his chest. OK. My hunch was right. I have to dip the equipment into the mix for the tempering to work.

He waited, expecting the bar to fill rapidly—after all, the terracoat had reacted so aggressively. But after several seconds, only a thin sliver of progress had crept forward. He inspected the progress bar more closely.

Time until tempering: 2 hours and 59 minutes.

Jack exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. Seriously? That long? 

His gaze flicked to the pot again, watching the sluggish churn of the terracoat. The heat radiating from it was almost uncomfortable this close, carrying a thick, earthy scent. Every now and then, a bubble surfaced, releasing a faint pop and a wisp of steam. Jack tried to imagine what was happening inside.

Was the mixture coating the hat’s fibers, reinforcing them? Hardening them? Or was it slowly dissolving the material into nothing? Either way, there was no stopping the process now.

Jack tapped his fingers against his knee, glancing at the sluggish progress bar. He could always prepare more of the mixture and start dipping the rest of his gear into it, but a nagging sense of caution held him back. 

I should at least see what it does before committing. 

There was no point in blindly treating everything if the effect turned out to be... less than ideal. Jack sighed and checked the time. 

Three hours is a long wait. What should I do?

He paced back and forth, running through his options. The pottery etching recipe he’d obtained from the One-Eyes was still untested. He could also use this time to hone his bard skills. And then there were the effects of Clay Dome—here was a melody with such big potential, which he hadn’t yet explored.

Which should I do first?

He came to a stop. A grin spread across his face. “Why choose? Maybe I can do them all at the same time!”

A plan took shape in his mind, and before hesitation could slow him down, he sprang into action. He turned on his heel and bolted toward the spring. He was going to need clay. Lots of it.

As he moved along the path through the mountain, he almost ran straight into Esther, who had just arrived from the other direction, carrying a set of empty amphorae.

“Sir?” she asked, startled.

“Hi, Esther! How’s it going?”

“I’ve come to clean the amphorae, just as you suggested,” she said, holding up one of the containers.

“Good! Keep up the good work.” He gave her an encouraging nod before continuing on his way.

By the time he reached the secluded spring, he was already rolling up his sleeves. The air was cool and damp, the smell of fresh water mingling with the earthy scent of wet clay. Jack crouched by the edge and dug both hands into the soft ground, scooping up a dense clump of material. It was cool and smooth, resisting slightly before giving way under his grip.

He worked quickly, shoveling load after load into his inventory, and watching his inventory fill up. Thankfully, now that Snowy had mutated, he had lots of free inventory slots. 

That should be enough for a while.

Without wasting another second, Jack raced back to the fire. He dumped a portion of the clay onto his workstation, grabbing a chunk and kneading it with firm, steady pressure.

He split a lump of clay in half, rolling each piece into a round shape before hollowing them out with careful precision. Two pinch pots. Then, using a sharpened tool, he scored the rims and applied a thin layer of slip, working with the same careful technique he’d practiced in earlier sessions. He pressed the two halves together, smoothing out the seam with wet fingers until the joint disappeared.

Jack stepped back for a moment, tilting his head. So far, so good.

Next, he took another lump of clay and split it into two smaller portions, rolling each one into a slender cylinder. With quick, practiced motions, he scored the attachment points on both the vase and the handles, pressing them together with firm, steady pressure. The clay resisted at first, but with a bit of water and smoothing, it adhered properly, completing the shape.

A notification flickered into view.

You’ve molded a [Small Earthenware Vase].

+30XP in [Pottery].

Jack wiped his brow and grinned, flexing his fingers to shake off some of the stiffness.

Now that he was level 10 in [Pottery], chasing small XP boosts wasn’t worth it anymore. Crafting a vase took just as much time as making any other ceramic item—but instead of making real progress, he was spending that time just to increase his bonus for something else.

Sure, if he committed to making vases in bulk, the XP boost would stack. After 20 vases, he’d finally hit the point where his next ceramic craft would give double XP. But by then, he’d have already sunk 20 crafts’ worth of time into getting there—time that could’ve been spent actually leveling a different skill.

If he really wanted to grind Bushcraft, for example, he could’ve just crafted 20 ropes outright instead of wasting time on vases just to boost one. Even without the bonus, that would’ve earned him way more XP overall.

Back when he was leveling pottery, squeezing out every extra boost to XP had made sense. But now, it was a bad trade.

But Clay Dome changed things.

If he could reinforce the finished vases with [Clay Dome], then maybe—just maybe—he could offset their biggest weakness. The durability loss wouldn’t matter if he could counteract it. That meant he could farm XP faster without burning through the vases.

His gaze flicked to the fresh vase, the firelight casting a golden sheen over the damp clay. The warmth of the flames curled against his skin, mixing with the cool moisture that still clung to the ceramic. It still needed to dry and be fired, but that could wait. Right now, he had momentum.

Jack grabbed another lump of clay and got back to work.

*

By the time Jack finally paused to stretch, his fingers were coated in a fine layer of dried clay, and several molded and etched vases sat neatly beside him, waiting to be fired. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiffness creeping into his muscles.

He glanced at the bubbling terracoat mixture. There was still plenty of time until he could figure out what had happened to his hat.

I’ve been molding vases non-stop for the last hour. I could use a break.

Jack’s gaze wandered around, and he spotted Esther mixing mead.

The mead batch should be reaching the next tier soon.

Now, that was something worth watching.

Jack left the unfinished vases to the side. Before heading down, Jack restocked the fire, ensuring the terracoat mixture stayed hot. Satisfied, he made his way toward the well, anticipation stirring in his chest. 

Gripping the iron chain, he climbed down into the well. The metal links rattled as they scraped against the stone, the sound amplified in the confined space. 

Jack landed lightly and strode toward the three amphorae, their ceramic surfaces faintly illuminated by the soft glow of the system interface. He knelt beside them, his eyes locking onto the hovering progress bar.

15 minutes until aging process completes.

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Perfect timing. That gave him just enough time to get some practice in.

Jack adjusted his posture, settling into a comfortable position before pulling out his ocarina. He turned it over in his hands briefly, the cool ceramic familiar beneath his fingers. Then, he pressed it to his lips and exhaled slowly.

The first few attempts were rough. His fingers fumbled slightly, the melody breaking midway, and the spell fizzled without effect. Jack exhaled through his nose. Focus.

Adjusting his grip, he tried again. This time, the notes resonated properly, carrying a low, steady hum that reverberated against the stone walls. A system notification flickered into view.

You’ve played [Clay Dome].

Success rate: D+

+300XP in [Bard]

Audience bonus: +150XP in [Bard]

All ceramics in the area are shielded from durability loss.

A faint shimmer rippled outward, cloaking the amphorae and even his ocarina in a thin protective glow. The effect wasn’t dramatic, but in the dimness of the well, the soft aura stood out like moonlight reflecting off polished stone.

Jack nodded to himself. Not bad.

Encouraged, he kept playing. With each repetition, his fingers moved more confidently, the tune settling into a natural rhythm. His breath control improved, allowing for smoother transitions between notes. A few more tries later, another notification appeared.

You’ve played [Clay Dome].

Success rate: C

A small surge of satisfaction welled up in his chest. First time I’ve hit a C rank with this melody. 

He looked expectantly at the shield around the amphorae and started counting to himself. As it reached one minute, the shield faded.

Jack grinned. The melody lasts long enough now. If I can make it last just a little longer, then my plan will work.

A faint glow finally pulsed from one of the amphorae. The first progress bar had reached completion. Jack leaned in, anticipation flickering through him.

The moment he inspected the results, his excitement evaporated.

Your mead hasn’t aged properly and has become bitter.

You’ve crafted [Honey Vinegar].

+50XP in [Brewing]

Jack clicked his tongue in frustration. 

He peered into the amphora, catching a sharp, acidic scent. He barely had to lean forward before it hit his nose, making him instinctively recoil. The rich, honeyed aroma he had hoped for was nowhere to be found. Instead, the pungent tang of vinegar clung to the air, biting and sour. He wrinkled his nose.

Well, at least it wasn’t a total waste. Even a failed batch granted XP.

Jack sighed and wiped his hands on his trousers. One down. Two more chances left.

Shaking off his disappointment, Jack refocused and started playing again. Then, just as he was settling into a steady rhythm, a different glow flickered from one of the remaining amphorae.

Jack straightened. The visual effect was different this time. Warmer, richer. A good sign.

His pulse quickened as a new notification appeared.

Ch. 161 - Terracoat

INDEX

Ch. 163 - Vases