Chapter 85: Gate of the Sixth Sense
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 85: Gate of the Sixth Sense
"Sachsen."
The moment he opened his eyes, Encrid called out for Sachsen.
"What is it?"
"The Gate of the Sixth Sense... it instinctively senses danger, right?"
"That’s just the beginning."
That was exactly why Sachsen had been recklessly projecting his killing intent until now.
Survival instinct. It was something every living being possessed. If that was merely the beginning...
So this was it.
A faint sensation had been tugging at his heart. It was subtle, but he had definitely felt something. Of course, he couldn't perfectly engrave the feeling into his body after just one attempt—a frustrating consequence of his lack of talent.
But he didn't lament it. Dwelling on his limitations wouldn't change a thing, so he simply moved again.
Encrid stood up. A new day had begun, and it was time to get busy.
"I’m heading out."
He accepted the same request, grabbed a torch, and headed for the shoemaker’s shop. This was now his fourth time. This time, he arrived before the first hammer had even struck.
"Let’s break through this together."
"Huh? What?"
Encrid joined forces with the bewildered shoemaker to dig a hole in the floor. Once again, he stood before the six diverging paths. The moment he faced the first and second tunnels, he felt a tickling sensation—a hunch that could only be described as foreboding.
Encrid smiled in spite of himself.
This is it.
He had entered this place originally because he couldn't stand by and watch the shoemaker die. It was a place rigged with a Spell Trap that he should have sealed off immediately if a few attempts proved it was a dead end.
Encrid had no intention of being shackled to this 'today.' This was an accident, and accidents could be avoided if one had the will. Even now, he could simply force the shoemaker and his daughter out and request a squad of soldiers to investigate the hole.
Of course, that was a last resort. Because of the Spell Trap, anyone who entered blindly would surely die. Even if he wasn't the one dying, he couldn't just stand by and watch others perish.
However, he couldn't exactly demand they bring in a mage—whose fees were worth more than gold—just because he suspected magic. A mage wouldn't just trot over at the request of a mere squad leader. And even if he claimed there was a Spell Trap, who would believe him? Most would react as if he were talking nonsense.
Though my squad members or the company commander might actually believe me.
In any case, the conclusion was clear. This was the perfect place to train his Gate of the Sixth Sense.
A thrill of exhilaration surged through him. After only four loops, a crack had already formed in the Gate of the Sixth Sense. Now, all that was left was to fling it wide open.
With that, he stepped into the third tunnel.
In that instant, Encrid experienced a familiar agony. An invisible blade cleaved his body vertically from above.
Horrific pain, the sharp whoosh of wind, the lingering chill, the sensation of blood gushing onto the floor, and a profound lethargy as if his very soul was draining away. None of these were sensations he ever wanted to experience twice. It was agonizing.
However, the tangible marks of experience allowed him to push past the suffering. Thus, the repeating 'today' was not entirely painful. He merely ran and struggled desperately for the sake of tomorrow.
*
The moment he welcomed his fifth morning, Encrid set a goal to prevent himself from becoming complacent.
Open the Gate of the Sixth Sense and clear this cave.
Anyone else would call it absolute madness. But to Encrid, this was just another training session. Moving forward. Growing. It was different from merely struggling to reach tomorrow.
"Uh, they say there's a hole under my shop... so why are you smiling?" the shoemaker asked, eyeing Encrid’s expression.
"I have a hobby of exploring the unknown," Encrid tossed out a random excuse. He was about to head down when the shoemaker grabbed his arm.
"I heard something moving down there, so be careful..."
"I will."
There were many things he wanted to test. He descended and faced the tunnels. His sixth sense didn't immediately scream at him, but the sense of foreboding was beginning to permeate his body.
I'll assume the gate is only halfway open.
He intended to force it the rest of the way starting now. He abandoned the idea of mindlessly throwing himself into the traps. Having tried it, he knew that method wouldn't work. This was his fifth 'today.' Even if he couldn't end the loop here, he still intended to struggle. Just because he could easily repeat the day didn't mean he would waste a single second of it.
So, what should he do?
Encrid spent the entire day—literally the entire day—pacing in front of the tunnels at a measured pace. From the first to the second, from the second to the sixth, then repeating the cycle back to the first.
He continued until five torches had burned to ash. It was late enough that he wondered if the day would simply end.
"What on earth are you doing?" the shoemaker asked, bewildered. "Why don't you eat some lunch first?" He brought Encrid a meal.
"Why are you just pacing left and right like a duck paddling in a pond?" the daughter added later, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"Hey, he said he came on a request, so why is that soldier acting like that?"
"I don't know either. He's been at it all day."
Even the herb shop owner from next door came over to watch the spectacle.
On the surface, it was a completely meaningless act. But Encrid spent the whole day with Single-Point Focus active, straining to find anything out of the ordinary.
How did the sixth sense that detected foreboding actually trigger? According to Sachsen’s explanation, the process of seeing, hearing, smelling, and feeling triggered within the realm of instinct. The sixth sense snatched up unrecognized danger first. The beginning of that was the task of identifying any sense of incongruity.
Yet, despite watching all day, nothing happened. Then, a sudden thought struck him.
What happens if I don't die and the day just passes?
It was a fresh question. Afterward, though he paced in front of the tunnels countless times, he gained nothing.
The height is about half again as tall as I am.
It was a fairly deep cave. Since he hadn't gone inside, he didn't know how far it stretched. Though crumbly with falling dust, the walls and ceiling were quite sturdy. There were no pillars, but it didn't look like it would collapse anytime soon.
What else? The air was damp and musty, but there was a draft. The darkness deep inside was barely visible even with a torch.
What else?
The smell? There was a fishy odor, but it wasn't overwhelming. Could there really be an undead-type monster? A priest might have sensed it just from the air, but Encrid, who had lived solely obsessed with the sword, possessed no such talent.
He searched and searched. He observed endlessly until he could feel some incongruity, and before he knew it, deep night had fallen.
"Aren't you going back?" the shoemaker called out from the top of the ramp.
Encrid climbed up and replied, "I don't know what's inside, but there doesn't seem to be any immediate danger. Block the entrance and wait until tomorrow. I'll bring reinforcements."
"I feel like you could have just called reinforcements in the time you spent pacing around," the shoemaker muttered.
Normally, that would be correct. But if he called reinforcements and someone stepped into the tunnel and triggered an explosion, it would be a catastrophe. It was a path to mutual destruction.
"I had some things to examine."
When he acted like an expert, the shoemaker nodded skeptically. Encrid blocked the hole again and made his way back to the barracks.
A full moon floated overhead. The weather, which had thawed slightly during the day, grew chilly again as night fell. Wrapping his coat made of demonic beast hide tighter, Encrid glanced back. It seemed the shoemaker hadn't broken through the floor to go back down. He had seemed like a curious fellow.
If he had, there would have been an explosion.
The question arose again: What happens if the night passes like this? It couldn't be dismissed. In this repeating today, there would eventually come a moment where he had to end it.
I should have tested this sooner.
Then again, the circumstances until now hadn't been ideal for testing. It had been a repeating today on a battlefield where a single mistake meant death, or a today spent dodging an assassin's dagger. Compared to those, this felt anticlimactic, but Encrid remained calm. He trained and repeated the same way, no matter the circumstances.
*
"I thought you went to hunt demonic beasts? Did you go to kill boots instead? Did you actually kill any?" Rem asked as soon as Encrid entered the quarters. He seemed to already know which request Encrid had taken.
Dusting the dirt off his pants, Encrid replied, "I killed about three. It was a productive day."
"Forget I asked." Rem didn't start an argument he was bound to lose. When he set his mind to it, Encrid was far more talented when it came to sharp-tongued banter.
After enduring Sachsen's killing intent until bedtime, Encrid lay down. He worried that someone might kill him to trigger the repeat, but nothing happened. He slept without incident.
*
When he opened his eyes the next day and saw the familiar surroundings, Encrid muttered to himself.
It’s a repeat.
A repeat of today. It seemed waking up after sleeping or dying amounted to the same thing. Thus, today began once more.
Encrid paced in front of the forks in the path again. Though it was a repeat without the pain of death, he remained steadfast. He still did his best, and he still struggled desperately. Being bound to 'today' was the worst possible scenario for him.
How could he escape this? He could tell even without the Ferryman telling him.
I have to overcome this.
*
When the torch went out, his eyes, accustomed to the light, saw only pitch darkness.
Whoosh.
He struck the flint, relit the torch, and held it up. Encrid stared at the six forks.
In cases like this, one of the six must be the real one, right?
The easy way was to throw his body in to check them all, one by one. Instead, Encrid chose to hone his Gate of the Sixth Sense. And it was working.
Foreboding.
Something stimulated by his survival instinct. On his sixth 'today,' he finally felt it. Encrid spent another day similar to the previous ones, and...
"What on earth are you doing all day?"
To soothe the bewildered shoemaker, he used the excuse he had prepared. "I'm checking to see what's inside. It looks like a trap has been set. It seems a thieves' guild might have secretly built a hidden passage, so please do not go inside."
The Gilpin Guild wasn't the only thieves' guild in the territory, but since Encrid spoke with them in mind, he used their reputation to his advantage. It was a plausible excuse.
The shoemaker nodded. "I see."
Back at the quarters, Encrid faced Sachsen's sharp gaze and endured the killing intent he projected. It was a routine repeated every evening. Even after enduring it with cold sweat on his forehead, Encrid had no intention of sleeping. If sleeping caused the repeat, what would happen if he stayed up all night?
He was curious. He held out, trying to watch the dawn break.
"Meow."
Esther approached and tapped his back with her paw, protesting his lack of sleep.
"Go to sleep first," Encrid said, stroking her head.
While he waited for the dawn, Encrid blinked for a brief second. In that flicker of an eye, he saw the Black River.
"Pointless."
The Ferryman was nowhere to be seen, but his words remained. When he opened his eyes again, his head felt heavy and fatigue lingered in his body as if he had stayed up all night, yet today had repeated once more.
What if I don't blink at all?
Would the day continue then? But how could a human endure without blinking? That was impossible even for a knight. Therefore, the repeat was unavoidable.
So you're telling me to live only in today.
That was fine. He already knew how to move forward to tomorrow. Encrid headed to the shoemaker's shop once more, enduring the day while feeling more fatigued than before. It wasn't that difficult; he had a history of fighting and fleeing while staying awake for days.
Thus, he repeated today over and over again. Since there was no pain of death, it could almost be called peaceful. Would he become intoxicated by this peace and settle?
No. Encrid did not change.
The today after today after today...
It was the seventy-eighth repeat.
Returning to the quarters, Encrid dodged the killing intent Sachsen projected. Two steps to the side. It was a feat possible only by minutely sensing the opponent's intent.
Thinking it might be a fluke, Sachsen projected his killing intent once more, focusing it into a localized area. The intent to kill if the opponent crossed a certain line—that was the principle.
Encrid twisted his body and let the intent slip past. It was an act he couldn't even hope to imitate without opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense. And he hadn't just cracked it; he had flung it wide open.
"...What was that?"
The efficiency of the survival instinct is incredible.
The answer he gave internally and the words he spoke aloud were different.
"It just suddenly worked."
His internal thought was the truth. A trap that led to death was the ultimate training tool. Encrid had chewed on, picked apart, and thoroughly savored that tool until the Gate of the Sixth Sense gave way.
He was now able to make Sachsen's eyes widen in genuine shock.
"Suddenly?"
Was such a thing possible? No. But it had happened right before his eyes. Sachsen was deeply bewildered, but he didn't let it show. He merely nodded. What could he do? The man said it worked.
He had been worrying about how to stimulate Encrid since there had seemed to be no progress. He had thought of all kinds of methods, but they had all become unnecessary.
"Thanks to you," Encrid said.
Sachsen felt a surge of pride, though he quickly muttered his usual dismissal. As if this means anything.
Even so, Sachsen felt gratified. Whatever the process, Encrid had flung open the gate just as he had hoped. The corners of Sachsen's mouth twitched upward for a brief moment before returning to a stern line. It was the only sign of just how happy he truly was.