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HC: Handyman | Ch. 192 - Jumbo
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 11:18:13 +0000 UTC“Next stop, Pearlsgate!” the coach driver called.
Jack stirred as the wheels jostled over cobblestones, the voice pulling him from uneasy sleep. Horace was beside him, stretching and yawning, and ahead of them, the moonlit silhouette of Pearlsgate emerged.
The carriage slowed as they crossed the outer perimeter, wheels clattering against uneven stone. Pearlsgate rose ahead, quiet and still under the moonlight.
Jack leaned forward. He’d seen the city before through Rob’s eyes—but it felt different now. The pale sandstone walls, once warm in his memory, looked cold and smooth in the dark.
The mother-of-pearl crest above the gate shimmered, creating the illusion of two moons—one in the sky, the other anchored to the horizon, as if they’d landed on some alien world.
The driver veered toward the terminal, a hub of noise and movement as busy as the one they’d left behind.
“We’re here,” he called over his shoulder.
Horace hopped off the carriage without hesitation. “No time to waste.”
Jack followed. As his sandals hit the stone, a low mist curled around their feet, stirred by passing carts and the tread of players heading in all directions. Pearlsgate wasn’t just a city tonight. It was a crucible—and they were stepping into the fire.
They walked briskly along the main road, keeping their heads down amid the swirl of movement. Players passed them by in every kind of gear imaginable. Now that Jack knew what to look for, he noticed that many shone with imbuements, others plain but worn with confidence.
Jack broke the silence. “Last time it was just the two of us together like this was when we kidnapped that baby allosaurus.”
Horace snorted. “So?”
“I don’t know. Just… this time, we’re sort of doing the same thing. Only now it’s my cousin.”
Horace’s lips tightened. “I’d rather fight an allosaurus than IronIre, I’ll tell you that.”
“Same.” Jack pointed toward a tall, lantern-lit building up ahead. “Hey. What do you think of that market?”
Horace followed his gaze, then gave a short nod. “Good. Let’s get that off our list.”
They crossed the street and stepped through the heavy doors of the market hall. Inside, the air turned warmer, thick with the low hum of conversation and the soft chime of interface sounds. Dozens of players sat or leaned against walls, eyes flicking through invisible market windows as they swiped and sorted through their inventories.
Jack and Horace found a bench near the wall. As Jack’s interface flickered to life, he began unloading his surplus: shagrat meat, fat, bones, and pelts. Altogether, it fetched a meager three gold—barely a dent in what he was about to spend.
“Don’t forget the consumables Amari recommended,” Horace said, eyes scanning his own menu.
“Of course,” Jack muttered, already wincing as he opened the listings. The cheapest of the three concoctions was seven gold. He sighed and dipped into his auction house profits without hesitation.
He worked quickly, picking up everything on their checklist: the three potions, several stacks of firewood, honey, seasoning blends, and a fresh batch of bomb shells, fuses, shrapnel, and gunpowder for Marie. He also grabbed two stacks of throwing stars and shurikens for Amari.
“I’m done here,” Jack said, closing the interface with a final swipe.
“Same. Let’s go,” Horace replied.
They took a turn, heading toward the next stop. The layout of Pearlsgate wasn’t all that different from Embersgate—broad roads, angular zoning, and the tip of a pyramid looming in the distance. Maybe the devs had reused city templates to help players get their bearings faster.
Even though Jack had pulled the coordinates for their next destination off the internet, he barely needed to check his map. A few familiar landmarks and muscle memory did the rest.
The Pottery Association of Pearlsgate looked modest from the outside, even more so than Embersgate’s red-brick structure. Or maybe that was just the difference seeing it under the moonlight made. His first visit to the one in Embersgate had been during the day.
This one was tucked between a dye shop and a smithy, a squat two-story building with white plaster walls and a wooden sign swinging gently above the door. A low fence enclosed a patio with rows of clay pots.
“Are you coming with?” Jack asked.
“Nah. I’ll wait out front,” Horace replied, his eyes constantly sweeping their surroundings.
Jack smiled. “You know IronIre still thinks I’m cooped up in a private workshop back in Embersgate, right?”
“Doesn’t hurt to be too careful.”
With Horace standing guard, Jack darted inside. The sooner he wrapped things up here, the sooner they could move to save his cousin.
The interior was comfortingly familiar—wide entrance hall, shelves lined with pottery in all shapes and finishes. He caught the scent of heating clay and the soft clatter of tools from the communal workshop beyond.
Jack approached the counter, where a tired-looking NPC sat hunched over a ledger, eyes barely flicking up at his approach.
Jack opened the XP store window.
He already knew what he wanted—he’d swapped messages with Felix about it earlier. Just one upgrade. Nothing fancy, but something that would’ve saved him hours of work back when he etched the One-Eyes’ patterns onto those vases.
He scrolled quickly and found it: an upgrade to [Wax Resist]. Cost: 20,000 XP.
He purchased it.
[Wax Resist] has been upgraded.
Wax Resist (Common)
Skill level: 2
Skill description: With your pottery expertise, you can use beeswax to create intricate patterns and designs by preventing glaze or dye from adhering to specific areas.
Skill effects:
Use wax to create patterns on pottery before glazing.
You can dye the wax with ash or ink.
“Oof! What a relief.”
Wax resist had been a nightmare without dye. Now, that problem was gone. Even though he’d improved with the carving knife, wax was better in some situations, especially for small pieces and detailed work. The dyed wax stood out against raw clay, making everything cleaner, easier.
He didn’t linger. His Pottery XP reserves were nearly drained, and most of it had gone into jewelry recipes the last time he was out of the Breach.
With nothing left to do, he jogged back to the entrance.
“Any issues?” Horace asked, still scanning the street.
“There were no issues.”
“Good. Let’s hit the next store.”
Jack consulted his map and set off in the lead.
“I’m feeling kind of guilty,” he said, eyes on the path ahead.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“We’re out here shopping leisurely when we should be rushing to save Rob.”
Horace sighed. “I get it. But this trip’s our one shot to prepare for the next phase of the Breach properly. We go back empty-handed, and we might not last much longer in there. And once we do save Rob, the Slayer’s going to be looking for us all over. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to leave the Breach anytime soon.”
Jack gulped. “Right.”
They passed through districts packed with associations tied with many majors and minors, each with their own shops, symbols, and NPCs. Eventually, they reached their next destination: the Butcher’s Association.
It was hard to miss.
The warehouse was enormous, towering over its neighbors. Nestled between a shipyard and a sprawling cellar, it squatted on the riverbank like some industrial behemoth. Several wide, tall gates faced one of the city’s main roads, and the clang of hooves echoed across the damp stone.
A team of draft horses strained under their harnesses, dragging the carcass of a brontosaurus toward the entrance. Its tail scraped along the muddy ground, leaving behind a red-brown streak. Jack’s stomach tightened.
“That’s all just for show, right?” he asked.
“Of course. Or maybe some quest event. Large dinosaurs get harvested like everything else. Touch it, and the goods go straight into your inventory. Come on.”
“You’re not staying out this time?”
Horace shook his head. “No reason for IronIre to have spies here. I’ll just accompany you.”
“Roger that!”
They entered through the only door meant for human-sized visitors.
A narrow corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by a single flickering light strip along the ceiling. As they passed the threshold, the heavy door behind them slid shut with a deep thud, sealing them in. The air shifted, dense and still. It almost felt like a decompression chamber.
Jack frowned. “Why this layout?” he muttered.
“You’ll see in a moment.”
The next door opened with a sharp hiss, and a blast of cold air rushed out, slapping his face and turning his breath into thick clouds. The temperature plummeted so quickly it felt like they'd traveled back to the peak in the Breach.
They were inside a vast, shadowy chamber that stretched upward. The ceiling was a lattice of exposed beams and hoists, and from it hung meat—slabs, chunks, entire carcasses—suspended from iron hooks. Frost clung to every surface, dulling the metallic racks and curling in feathery patterns along the concrete walls.
Two men worked in silence at the center of the chamber, their breath steaming as they pushed a long saw through the ribcage of some titanic beast. The rhythmic grind of steel on bone echoed through the room, accompanied only by their grunts of effort.
Jack shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “How do they keep this chamber this cold?”
“Some sort of pyramid artifact,” Horace replied, his tone matter-of-fact.
Jack glanced at him, then back at the icy room. Just how many mysteries did the pyramids hold?
They stepped out of the freezer and into what felt like a sauna. The reek hit next—rank, acrid, alive. Jack gagged, blinking through the shift in air.
The cauldrons hissed like angry serpents as bones were cleaned inside or fat was rendered. NPCs worked with sweaty foreheads, their aprons stained and tools gleaming with use. One cleaned a tendon with short, surgical flicks of his blade; another salted a hide, rolling it tight like a scroll.
Jack followed the directions from the guide until he spotted a glass-paneled room. Inside, players huddled over system menus.
“Bingo!” he said, pointing. “That’s the butchers’ XP store.” Jack was happier about having found it quickly than about the prospect of upgrades. He just wanted to hurry up and go save his cousin.
Jack raced toward the door and entered the room. The NPC manning the desk looked more like a gladiator than a clerk. His shoulders were twice the width of the chair, and his arms bulged as he hunched over stacks of parchment.
Jack’s gaze snagged on the desk. It was bone—polished to a satin finish, the plates fit so cleanly they seemed grown rather than crafted. A delicate border of inlaid carvings ran its edge, subtle but intricate. He recognized the technique. Professor Masse had shown it to him during a lesson on bone carving traditions. The style was from India, if he wasn’t mistaken.
He admired the craftsmanship. Whoever had done it was a master.
The pen in the NPC’s hand was a work of art—carved ivory, etched with tiny patterns.
Jack inspected him. He was named Jumbo. This was it. He really was in the right place.
“Greetings, sir.”
“Hmph. Hi, fellow butcher. Bit swamped here. One sec. Argh… Price of stego plates... scratch that... yeah, there we go. Good.”
According to the guides, Jumbo never stopped doing paperwork. Unless a player had a specific quest line, the giant NPC just worked and muttered endlessly. That suited Jack just fine.
The system allowed him to open the XP store directly. That was all that mattered.
There were skill upgrades to a butcher’s basic kit. Some boosted harvest yields. Others expanded storage for butchered goods. A few even unlocked tasks normally reserved for the NPC crew—bone whitening, tendon cleaning, pelt salting.
The name of one of the skills caught his eye.
Tenderizing Punch: 500,000 XP.
The name reminded him of [Tenderizing Repercussions]. If so, his hidden class had just allowed him to save half a million butchering XP. And more than that, a tenderizing punch sounded like a single-target attack. He had an AoE tenderizing melody. While someone who chose this skill would have to go around punching each creature one by one, he could apply the same effect simply by playing a tune.
He smiled, imagining how envious other butchers would become if they found out. They would probably cough up blood.
Jack only allowed himself the time to skim through the list. He was quite sure of what he was going to spend his XP on.
He finally found what he wanted: the upgrade for [Bone Carving].
