Chapter 86: What Changes When You Open the Door?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 86: What Changes When You Open the Door?
The Gate of the Sixth Sense.
Though he had forced it open by sensing a direct threat to his life, it was essentially an antenna that detected every movement within a certain radius. Now that he had opened the gate based on pure instinct, he finally understood its true nature.
‘If I apply it differently...’
‘Could I read the movements of someone behind me?’
He immediately visualized Rem’s movements behind his back. Rem picked his nose, flicked the finding away, squirmed inside his thermal leathers, and then raised his head. His gaze settled on Encrid’s back.
To break down the process: he heard a sound, deduced the cause, and predicted his opponent’s next move. But now, that entire sequence occurred in a single, seamless instant.
This was the power of the Gate of the Sixth Sense. This was what he was capable of now that the gate stood open.
‘With this...’
Even if someone swung a club at the back of his head, dodging it wouldn't be difficult. It was the realm of pure intuition and animal instinct. Only now did he truly grasp the beast-like, instinctive hunting style Sachsen had described.
The Gate of the Sixth Sense served to instantly aggregate all surrounding information and plant it directly into his mind. With enough focus, he could even tell exactly when Rem was picking his nose behind him.
"Idiots call this the 'Mind’s Eye,' but that’s a load of crap. It’s just your intuition getting sharper. That’s all there is to it."
That had been Sachsen’s explanation. Naturally, the more Encrid practiced, the wider its utility would become. Of course, there were risks to consider.
"If you rely too blindly on your intuition, you can be deceived. Be careful."
As he spoke, Sachsen had placed his left hand on Encrid’s shoulder. Right up until the moment Sachsen’s hand touched him, Encrid had been under the illusion that the hand was aiming for his neck. It was a strange, sensory deception—similar, in a way, to the Valen-style Mercenary Sword.
Did opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense change the fact that today was repeating? No. Encrid began to live the exact same "today" once again. However, he had a premonition that the outcome would be different from every other "today" he had endured so far.
Actually, it wasn't just a premonition. He now had the absolute confidence to overcome that vicious trap.
He donned his leather breastplate, strapped a longsword to his left hip, and secured a thick-bladed guard sword behind his waist. He packed whistling daggers tightly into the sheaths wrapped around his torso and hid small knives at both ankles. Throwing a gambeson over the entire ensemble completed the full armament of a light infantryman.
Because he was used to the routine, he didn't waste a second arming himself. He wolfed down his breakfast and set out in a hurry.
‘If I just grab a few more torch stands on the way...’
This was a path he had traveled dozens of times. Stopping by the general store was a routine he had repeated so often he was sick of it.
"What, are you planning to hold a sword to the shoemaker's throat to coax him? Or are you going to fight to the death over a pair of boots?"
Rem, who had heard the rough details of the request, spoke up. He lay on the bed, poking only his face out from the covers as he chattered.
"I won't return until I've sliced through ten boots."
It was a joke they shared every day.
‘Somehow, even though today keeps repeating, we always end up making the same jokes.’
He caught a glimpse of Rem’s true feelings. Rem likely found the idea of visiting a shoemaker’s shop, rather than hunting demonic beasts, annoying in itself.
"Hurry up and get it over with so we can go take some demonic beast heads," Rem snorted.
Encrid nodded, his thoughts turning inward. No one would ever suspect such a tunnel existed beneath the weaver’s shop. It was only natural.
‘I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it.’
He was genuinely curious to see what lay beyond.
Clang.
As Esther saw him off, Encrid flicked the tip of her nose with his finger to mark "today" in his memory.
“Kyaaa!”
Caught off guard, Esther backed away, shaking her head from side to side as she let out a fierce growl. Finding the reaction quite cute, Encrid smiled.
"I'm off."
Leaving the lodging, he stopped by the general store, bought three torch stands, tucked two into his belt, and carried one like a club as he walked. Moving briskly, he arrived at the weaver’s shop and stepped inside.
"Look! There's a hole here!" the weaver’s startled voice rang out.
"I see. There is indeed a hole. I'll check it out."
Instead of being relieved by Encrid’s calm response, the wide-eyed weaver scanned him from head to toe.
"...Are you heading off to war or something?"
Even patrol soldiers didn't walk around fully armed like this. Seeing the thick cloth armor and the array of weapons, the weaver couldn't help but ask.
"Give your best even to the smallest of matters. That's what the teacher who taught me the sword told me."
A sword instructor he had crossed paths with once had indeed said something like that. So, it wasn't a lie. In reality, he had simply prepared for the worst because he had no idea what might be waiting for him.
"Someone has laid a vicious trap inside, so don't go in there, even by mistake."
When Encrid peered into the hole and warned him, the weaver’s face turned pale.
"You can tell just by taking a quick look inside?"
Ah, I was a bit too hasty, Encrid thought, then spoke again. "I'm somewhat of an expert in these matters."
At his nonchalant reply, the weaver nodded reluctantly and finally showed the reaction Encrid had originally expected.
"A trap? What kind of trap? Why is there something like that under my shop?"
Encrid didn't know either, but he wouldn't remain ignorant for long. He was about to find out. A trap had been set, and it had served its purpose. The obvious conclusion was that if you got past the trap, something important would be waiting. People only hide things when there is something worth hiding.
"As for why they did this kind of thing here..." Encrid paused, caught his breath, and continued. "...I'm about to find out."
Encrid’s own curiosity was piqued. Having answered, he skillfully made his way down the slope. He knew exactly where and how the tunnel was shaped, even with his eyes closed. He had traveled this path dozens of times, constantly roaming this narrow tunnel just to open the Gate of the Sixth Sense. Thanks to that, he had practically memorized every contour of the ground.
Once again, he stood before the six forks in the path.
The first and second passages held explosions. In the third passage, wind blades fell vertically. There was no need to waste any more time training his sixth sense. He had done enough.
‘Now then.’
Which of the six passages was the safe path? Instead of answering the question, Encrid wanted to crack open the skull of the bastard who had designed this.
‘How insidious.’
Every single one of the six paths was a trap. At least, if his sixth sense wasn't mistaken. Among his dozens of "todays," he had naturally tested his danger-sensing ability. It was accurate. In fact, Encrid had already discovered that even the sixth path was a trap.
If he entered the sixth passage, a hazy, smoke-like substance would spread from above. It was a poison mist that caused blisters the moment it touched the skin; if inhaled, it delivered a pain incomparable to being slashed by a sword or pierced by a spear.
He felt an ominous foreboding from all six passages. There was no path. He was blocked.
Should he stop here? Was he stuck? He knew instinctively that only by pushing past this tunnel could he escape "today." Stopping because the path was blocked meant being trapped in this loop forever.
His opponent wasn't a soldier skilled at thrusting, nor an assassin approaching without a sound, nor a horde of enemy troops on a battlefield. It was just a trap—a stationary, motionless spell trap devoid of intellect.
Encrid stood before the first passage.
‘One wrong step, and I’m toast.’
How did a spell trap trigger? Because he had opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense, he could perceive the triggers through the realm of instinct. He didn't even need a torch.
Encrid stepped into the passage.
Cold sweat dripped down his forehead with every step. It felt like narrowly dodging razor-sharp blades that could cut him at the slightest touch. The trigger mechanism of the trap was detection. He walked, avoiding the spots where he felt the ominous sensation.
Activating Single-Point Focus, with the boldness of a beast settling in his heart, his steps did not falter. By opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense while fully focused, he stepped through the gaps in the spell trap. To an onlooker, it would look like he was merely walking in a zigzag pattern, but Encrid crossed as if walking a tightrope. Even so, he found it manageable.
The realm of sixth sense and intuition. He had bypassed the trap using pure instinct. How many people in the world could do such a thing? A sense of accomplishment swelled in his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside.
"First of all."
He had cleared the first hurdle. Looking into the darkness ahead, he lit a torch. He examined the path carefully; he didn't feel the same ominous sensation as before, but it was certain that something lay ahead.
It was intuition. Encrid walked forward cautiously, and soon, he saw the creature waiting for him.
"Grrr..."
It had a hunched back, with sharp, thorn-like bones protruding where the spine should be. Its skin was so pale that even under the torchlight, it looked a sickly blue. Its mouth was several times larger than a human's, drooling thick saliva as if salivating over a meal. Its claws were long, its forearms thick, and its eyes were pitch black. The grain of its muscles was faintly visible through its cracked skin. Thanks to its hunched posture, its fists practically dragged on the ground.
It was a Ghoul.
Monsters and demonic beasts existed in this world. According to theologians, they were creatures born from gods killing one another in the distant past. But that was none of Encrid’s business. The only thing that mattered was that they existed. If it resembled a beast, it was called a demonic beast. Everything else was a monster.
Ghouls, in particular, were man-eating monsters.
"Why are you popping out of here?"
The weaver’s words had been half-right. There really was a monster down here. Except it wasn't some skeleton soldier; it was a ghoul. Monsters possessed no intellect to converse with; they simply lunged at the sight of prey.
"Graaaagh!"
Ghouls ate humans. Lacking a bridge, their flat, upturned noses—which looked like mere holes stuck to their faces—were organs capable of sniffing out human scent. Having caught the scent of prey, the creature lunged without hesitation.
The tunnel wasn't terribly narrow, but it wasn't spacious enough to leap around and swing a sword freely. However, he had enough room to maneuver.
Shring, clang.
The moment he saw the charging ghoul, Encrid drew his longsword and held it diagonally in front of him.
‘Three.’
There were two more behind the first one. Generally, it took two or three pikemen to take down a single ghoul. A skilled soldier might kill one alone with a sword, but tactically, it was wiser to avoid such attempts. Of course, if forced into a corner, one would have to throw punches at a ghoul’s face.
Just like Encrid was doing now.
Thud!
Thrusting his diagonally held blade forward, he drove it into the first ghoul’s chest. Gripping the sword with only his left hand, he pressed it down in an outward diagonal motion.
"Greee-gurgle!"
A bizarre shriek that could never come from human vocal cords erupted. The ghoul, impaled by the sword, was forced to its knees by Encrid’s strength. The blade slid down about a finger’s width through the creature’s body, though he couldn't cleave it in two. This action alone put a heavy strain on his left arm.
Having suppressed the first, the next creature rushing in swung its claws. Anticipating this, he spun on his left foot to dodge, then threw a snap strike with his free right fist.
Crack!
Hit squarely, the second ghoul’s head snapped back. The impact was fully delivered, leaving it dazed. With its charge halted, the third ghoul struggled to leap forward. It reached out from behind, its arms noticeably longer than those of the other two. Ghouls were naturally a misshapen breed; some had long arms, while others had thick legs.
Having already anticipated the last ghoul’s movement, Encrid simply tilted his head to dodge the thrusting claws. Now that he had created an opening, he knew exactly what to do.
‘One by one.’
He just had to kill them. In the past—the true past, before he began repeating today—he would have died long ago. But the experience, swordsmanship, and physical techniques ingrained in his body had now reached an extraordinary level.
Gripping the sword with both hands, he slashed downward. Strength surged into the muscles of both arms.
Rip.
"Grak!"
One ghoul was split open from chest to groin, spilling its purplish entrails onto the ground. The torch, which had rolled to the side, illuminated the faces of the remaining two, casting long shadows behind them. The two monsters, completely devoid of fear, lunged once more.
Encrid’s sword, which had easily dispatched one even when there were three, danced once again. Stepping toward the ghoul repeating its simple movements, he severed its neck with a Heavy Sword Style: High Horizontal Slash.
He tripped the last remaining one, sending it crashing down, and stomped on its head with all his might.
Crunch!
Though its head didn't burst like a pumpkin, black fluid began to ooze from its cracked skull.
"Now I'm getting really curious," Encrid said, driving his sword vertically into the remaining ghoul’s head.
Crack.
The tip of the sword pierced through the ghoul’s skull and bit into the ground. Encrid pulled his sword out of the shattered head.
Three ghouls. It was a fight that would normally require at least six low-grade soldiers, but Encrid had won with ease. Since a ghoul’s claws were venomous, even a scratch would have forced him to turn back, but they hadn't touched him once. It was a moment that proved his training had not been in vain.
Though it was a bit disappointing that no one was around to witness it, he would soon be able to show the bastard hiding inside just how merciless his sword could be.
"Whew."
After catching his breath and shaking the ghoul’s fluids off his sword, Encrid wiped the blade with a piece of cheap linen from his breast pocket and stepped deeper inside. Since heading deeper into the tunnel was the path to tomorrow, he did not hesitate.