HC: Handyman | Ch. 219 - 71 points

Jack materialized at the fortress gate, cold wind hitting his face like a welcome slap. Back in the mountains. Back in the game. “Jack! Come

Jack materialized at the fortress gate, cold wind hitting his face like a welcome slap. Back in the mountains. Back in the game.

“Jack! Come here! Quick!”

He looked up to find Horace waving frantically from the battlement.

“What’s going on?” Jack called, already jogging toward the stairs.

As he darted up, he heard more voices behind him—Rob and Marie, who had logged in just after. Horace was calling to them, too, with the same urgency in his voice.

By the time Jack reached the top of the wall, he didn’t need to ask what the fuss was about.

“Woah,” he breathed. “What a sight.”

“I know, right?” Horace said.

From their perch, they had a perfect view of the road winding up toward the fortress. And on that path, under silver moonlight, marched a procession that looked straight out of a bizarre fantasy parade.

Amari rode at the front, seated tall atop his black horse, reins slack in one hand. Behind him came rows of One-Eyes. But these weren’t the yellow-furred, green-dotted mountaineers Jack had met before.

Green-skinned with yellow polka dots, they marched in tidy formation, each carrying a long wooden staff in their single hand. For such quirky creatures, their rhythm was almost military.

At the rear came twelve yellow One-Eyes riding mountain goats. The beasts plodded up the road with placid confidence while the riders sat tall and proud, tapping the goats’ flanks with long flint spears.

Hooves clacked against stone. Reeds tapped. The One-Eyes’ eerie chittering floated up on the wind, like birdsong laced with static.

“They had a cavalry regiment?” Jack muttered.

“Can you even call it cavalry if it’s goats?” Horace quipped.

Rob and Marie reached the top just then, both stopping short at the sight.

“Whoa…” Rob murmured. “It’s a full-on parade.”

“They’re adorable! Look at the goat riders—like little fluffy generals!” Marie clasped her hands together. “I want to squish their faces.”

Jack gave her a sidelong glance. “Cute? I doubt you’d feel that way if you were the one tied up in a net by those maniacs.”

“They’ve got different colors,” Rob said, squinting. “Is it because they’re from different tribes?”

“Looks like it,” Jack said. “The goat riders are the ones I met in the peaks—yellow with green spots. But these new guys…” He trailed off, watching as one of the green-skinned One-Eyes clicked its staff against the ground in a practiced rhythm. “They’re probably the ones from the lake.”

Twenty-four One-Eyes—twelve on foot, twelve on goats—marched with purpose. They entered the gate in tidy formation, Amari at the front like a general returning from a campaign.

Jack didn’t wait for the full column to file in. He turned, already heading down the stairs.

By the time he made it down, the group had reformed at the base of the courtyard. Amari swung off his horse with smooth confidence and gave a two-fingered salute.

“Hey, team.”

Horace crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “Tell me straight, Amari—did you ride in on that horse just to look cooler in your next highlight reel?”

Amari smiled. “What if I did?”

“Then mission accomplished. That was epic.”

Now that they were up close, Jack got a better look at the green One-Eyes. They weren’t holding staves, as he’d first assumed. The long, hollow objects in their hands were pale and flexible—lake reeds. Blowpipes.

“Blowpipes,” Rob murmured beside him.

Jack nodded. The upgrade had mentioned dart-blowers. Of course. Probably made what was available on the shores of the lake.

Sensing everyone’s eyes on them, the One-Eyes let out a chorus of high-pitched, fluting sounds—like panpipes mixed with bird calls. The same rhythm repeated again and again, like they were trying to communicate.

“What are they saying?” Rob asked.

Amari shrugged. “Haven’t got a clue.”

The One-Eyes started gesturing with their reeds, pointing toward the fire. Finally, they just walked toward the fire while letting out chirps.

“Uh… is something wrong with our camp?” Horace asked.

No reply, of course. So they followed the creatures toward the fire.

Human NPCs paused in their routines to watch, whispering to each other, but there was no alarm, only curiosity.

The One-Eyes settled around the cooking pot like guests at a banquet and began collecting empty bowls. One of them even started setting a bowl down beside each goat.

Jack did a double-take. One of the goats licked its lips and let out a satisfied bleat.

No way! They didn’t bring their own food? And they want me to feed stew to their goats?

“Oh, it looks like they’re hungry. The poor things,” Marie said, her voice full of sympathy. “Jack. Quick—make some food for them.”

Easy for you to say, Jack thought, stomach sinking.

Five bowls for him and the team. Thirteen more for Esther, Riku, Christoff, and the soldiers. Molly. Pterry—who ate like a cursed black hole. And now twenty-four One-Eyes. That was over fifty bowls of stew.

And now the goats?

No, sir.

Marie was already smitten with the creatures and their bleating mounts. Jack made a mental note to at least swap out goat stew for dry straw when she wasn’t looking. He wasn’t about to cater to those sleezy actors.

He coughed. “I’ll, uh, get right on that. But first, Amari, just how did you recruit these guys?”

Amari scratched the back of his head. “It’s a weird story. I was exploring the lake and ran into the lake tribe. They took me to their town, showed me this giant wall painting of them fighting the mountain tribe. I sort of helped them sort it out.”

“Painting?” Jack asked, suddenly interested. If there was another etching pattern in that village, he needed to check it out.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask for a screenshot, Marie leaned forward. “Fighting? Why were they even fighting?”

Amari chuckled. “Doesn’t matter. It’s all good now.”

Jack tilted his head. “C’mon, spill it.”

Amari hesitated. “Their fur.”

Horace gaped. “Their fur?!”

“Yeah. One tribe’s green with yellow spots, the other’s yellow with green. They thought the pattern was insulting. Been at war for centuries.”

Jack stared. “That’s… really dumb.”

“And such far-fetched lore,” Horace added. “What were the writers thinking?”

Amari’s smile faded. “It is dumb. But I wouldn’t call it farfetched.”

The laughter tapered off.

Jack swallowed. Amari was the only Black guy on the team. Suddenly, what had sounded like a punchline didn’t feel funny anymore.

Seeing it in the One-Eyes, sure—it was ridiculous. Fur patterns. But was mankind any better?

Silence crept in, heavy and uncomfortable. No one knew what to say. Everyone was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Amari clapped once, light but sharp—like swatting a fly. “Anyway. They’re friends now. And we’ve got reinforcements.”

“Right,” Jack said, quick to jump on the shift.

“Shall we buy the other package while we’re at it?” Horace asked, eager to move things forward.

Amari nodded. “Let’s see. We’ve got seventy-one points. We’re about to spend seventy of them on an aid package. Are we sure about this?”

The group exchanged glances. Seventy points was almost everything.

“I mean… It’s a gamble,” Marie said, “but if it’s anything like Tramontane, it could mean the difference between failure and success.”

Rob gave a shrug. “Let’s do this.”

Jack gave a firm nod. “We won’t get far playing it safe.”

Amari looked at him. “Can you do the honors?”

Jack stepped forward. He knew it wasn’t just about being the one who’d pushed for this. With the highest Luck stat, the team hoped his hand would tilt the odds.

A translucent interface shimmered into view:

Would you like to spend 70 Breach points on an Aid Package?

Jack glanced back. The team gave him quiet nods of support.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, and clicked Accept.

A low hum filled the air.

Then the fortress shuddered.

The ground trembled beneath their feet. Loose stones rattled. Steam hissed from unseen vents. Jack staggered, lost his footing, and dropped to one knee.

“W-what’s happening?” he gasped.

“I don’t know!” Amari called, steadying himself.

Dust sifted down from the ramparts. Wooden support beams groaned like something deep underground had stirred awake.

Jack glanced toward the NPCs, bracing for alarm. But they didn’t react. They kept crafting, patrolling, chatting—utterly undisturbed as if the quake wasn’t real.

Then the wall cracked apart—not broken, but lifted. Bricks and planks that Horace had patched in were yanked into the air, spinning into a tight spiral as if caught in invisible orbit.

The earth near the base of the wall split with a sound like tearing fabric. From each rupture, a red conical structure rose, smooth and gleaming.

The ground didn’t fracture. It parted—fluid, seamless, like a hologram rewriting itself. Dirt and stone rippled outward, liquefying, reforming.

Five more towers followed, each emerging in perfect unison.

Flying debris twisted and folded into new forms. Walls mended, towers grew. The fortress groaned, reshaped by invisible hands.

One by one, six towers clicked into place. As the final structure locked into position, glowing symbols etched themselves onto each tower—simple, elegant markings that shimmered briefly before fading into the stone. A sun. A moon. A star.

When it was over, the wall looked brand new. Clean lines, fresh stone, perfect symmetry.

A soft chime echoed through the courtyard.

You’ve unlocked a new upgrade: [The Six Towers]

The Six Towers (Aid Package)

Description:

The architect who designed this fortress dreamed of adding six towers to the walls. Each pair enhances the stronghold’s defensive capabilities. Sadly, the budget never allowed for their construction until now.

Package effects:

Star Towers

Fitted with chainbows that fire arrows rapidly and consistently. Ideal for suppressing swarms or picking off fast-moving targets from a distance.

Each tower consumes 1,000 arrows per wave.

Moon Towers

Armed with heavy-duty ballistae, these towers launch massive steel bolts capable of piercing even the most formidable foes. Their fire rate is slow, but devastating.

Each tower consumes 20 ballista bolts per wave.

Sun Towers

Equipped with rotary flame vents powered by internal pressure systems. They release sweeping bursts of fire in wide arcs, especially effective at close range or in narrow chokepoints.

Each tower consumes 200 units of [Oil] per wave.

They stared, awestruck.

“Woah…” Jack breathed.

“I like it!” Horace said, turning in place to take in the view.

Amari crossed his arms, a slow smile forming. “Looks like the game just got more interesting.”

“This seriously boosts our defenses,” Horace said. “Just the wall upgrade alone is huge—but the towers? That’s awesome.”

Jack gulped. “Quick question… each tower uses consumables, right? Is it expensive?”

Amari frowned in thought. “Let’s see... Rusted arrows cost about 25 coppers each—so a thousand arrows for the Star Towers? That’s five gold per wave. Ballista bolts are thirty silver a piece—so twenty bolts make twelve gold. Oil goes for around 45 coppers per unit, which makes... two gold for the Sun Towers?”

“Twenty gold per wave,” Marie said, whistling softly.

“Could be worse,” Amari said with a shrug.

“Do they need someone inside to work?” Horace asked.

“Let’s find out.”

They headed for the nearest tower. There were no doors at ground level, but Marie pointed up. “Look—there’s a hatch in the battlement.”

The team made their way up, the usually quiet stairs now crowded. The Star Towers were farthest from the gate, the Moon Towers anchored the center, and the Sun Towers flanked the main entrance.

Jack opened the door of a Moon Tower, half expecting a stationed guard inside. Instead, he found a chamber of rotating gears and belts, like stepping into a giant clock.

“Looks automatic,” Amari said.

“At least I don’t have to feed this tower stew,” Jack muttered.

As they approached, a system prompt blinked into view:

Would you like to fill the tower with 20 ballista bolts?

The interface was simple. Supply the consumables, click to confirm.

“We can toggle them on and off from the Breach menu,” Marie noted. “Good for conserving resources.”

“Smart,” Amari said. “No point using them until we know we really need them.” He glanced around the battlements, nodding with satisfaction. “Between Tramontane, our NPC allies, and now these towers? I’m actually feeling confident.”

“Imagine it—we finish this, and each of us walks away with a legendary. Glorious!” Horace beamed.

Jack gave him a look. “Let’s survive first. And maybe don’t jinx it,” he added, gesturing skyward—like Piri might be eavesdropping from her digital perch.

“Such a party-pooper,” Horace grumbled.

Caaaw! Tu-ru-ru-tu! Meeeeh! Screeeee!

A chorus of goats, birds, One-Eyes—and the unmistakable shriek of the large pterossaurus—echoed from below, impatient and hungry.

Jack leaned over the ledge and saw a small crowd of NPCs and animals gathered around the fire pit, bowls already in hand. Even Pterry was flapping nearby, eyes locked on the stew pot.

“You’d better get down there,” Horace said, backing away. “They look ready to riot.”

Jack sighed, cracking his knuckles as he started down the stairs. Time to feed the army. Again.

Ch. 218 - Harmonics

INDEX

Ch. 220 - Goat Apnea