Chapter 85 - Sixth Sense

"Jaxon."

Encrid sought Jaxon out as soon as he woke. "What is it?"

"This Sixth Sense can detect danger instinctively, too, right?"

"That's where it begins." That was also why Jaxon had been bombarding him with killing intent all this time. The survival instinct. Something every living being possessed. If that was where it began...

'So that was it.'

The sensation that had tickled at his heart. Faint, perhaps, but he had definitely felt something like it. Of course, a single experience wasn't enough to engrave it perfectly into his body. He had his lack of talent to thank for that. But he didn't lament it. Dwelling on his lack of talent would change nothing, so he simply got moving again. Encrid rose. Today had begun again, and it was time to get busy.

"I'm off." He accepted the same commission, took a torch, and headed to the cobbler's shop. This was his fourth time now. This time, he arrived before the first hammer blow. "Let's break through it together."

"Eh? What?"

Encrid joined the bewildered cobbler in breaking a hole through the floor. Once again, he faced the six branching passages. The moment he stood before the first and second, he felt that tingling sensation. Foreboding was the right word for it. In that instant, he smiled without realizing it. 'This place...' He had come here simply because he couldn't stand by and let the cobbler die. A place with spell traps that he should have sealed off if a few attempts proved fruitless. He had never intended to be trapped in this "today." This was an accident, and one he could avoid if he was determined to. Even now, he could force the cobbler and his daughter out if necessary, then request soldiers to investigate the hole. Of course, that was a last resort. Anyone who went in unaware of the spell traps would surely die. Even if he wasn't the one dying, he couldn't just stand by and watch. But he couldn't very well tell them there was magic here and demand a mage, whose services cost more than gold. No mage would come trotting over at a mere Squad Leader's request. Besides, who would believe him if he said there were spell traps? Most would dismiss it as nonsense. 'My squad members or the Company Commander might believe me.' In any case, it came down to this: here was the ideal place to train his Sixth Sense. A thrilling joy surged through him at the realization. In just four attempts, he had already opened a crack in the door to his Sixth Sense. All that remained was to throw it wide. Then he stepped into the third passage and experienced a different kind of agony. An invisible blade split his body vertically from above his head. Horrific agony, pain, the long whistle of wind, a chill lingering in his body, blood gushing onto the floor, and a draining weakness, as though every bit of strength were pouring out of him. Not one of those pains or sensations was something he wanted to experience twice. He suffered. Of course he did. Yet the mark left by this new understanding made him forget his suffering. And so, repeating today was not only torment. He simply ran and struggled toward tomorrow.

* * *

The moment his fifth morning arrived, Encrid set a goal to keep himself from settling for today.

'Unlock my Sixth Sense and get through these tunnels.' Anyone who knew would have called it utter madness. But to Encrid, this was simply another opportunity to train. To move forward. To grow. That was different from desperately struggling for tomorrow. "Er, there's a hole beneath my shop. Why are you smiling?"

The cobbler asked when he saw Encrid's smile.

"Exploring the unknown is a hobby of mine." He tossed out the first words that came to mind and was about to descend when the cobbler caught his arm.

"I heard something passing by down there, so you should be careful..."

"Yes, I will." There was much he wanted to test. He descended and faced the passages. His Sixth Sense did not immediately sound a warning, stabbing every part of him with foreboding.

'Let's say the door's only partly open.'

He intended to open it the rest of the way. He abandoned the idea of mindlessly throwing himself into traps. Now that he'd tried it, he knew. That wasn't the way. This was his fifth today. Even if he couldn't finish things here, he still intended to struggle. He would not waste the present, this moment, just because it was easy to repeat. He had no intention of doing so. Then what should he do? All day—truly the entire day—Encrid walked unhurriedly back and forth before the passages. From the first to the second, from the second to the sixth. Then back from the sixth to the first, over and over. Until five torches had burned out. Until it was late enough to wonder if spending the day this way might simply bring today to an end. "What on earth are you doing?"

The cobbler was bewildered at first, but then brought him a meal.

"Why not have lunch first?" "But why do you just keep going back and forth like a duck on a river?"

Later, the daughter came down to voice her puzzlement. "He came on a commission, didn't he? What's that soldier doing?"

"Beats me. He's been at it all day."

Even the herbalist from next door came to watch. To an observer, it was utterly meaningless. But Encrid spent the entire day using Concentrate on a Single Point, searching for anything unusual. How did the Sixth Sense that detected foreboding work? According to Jaxon, the processes of seeing, hearing, smelling, and feeling operated in the realm of instinct. The Sixth Sense caught dangers before conscious recognition. He was searching for the beginning of that process: a sense that something was out of place. Yet nothing happened despite his watching all day. Then a thought suddenly struck him.

'What happens if the day passes without me dying?'

The question occurred to him anew. Afterward, he continued walking back and forth before the passages countless times through the day, but gained nothing. 'The ceiling's about half again as high as I am tall.'

The tunnels lay quite deep underground. He hadn't managed to enter them, so he didn't know how far they extended. Dust sifted down, but the walls and ceiling were fairly sturdy. There were no pillars, yet it didn't look likely to collapse anytime soon. What else was there? The air was damp, but there was a draft. Even by torchlight, he couldn't see far into the darkness within.

'What else?' What about the smell? There was a fishy odor, but not enough to bother him. Could there really be an undead monster? A cleric might be able to tell just from the surrounding air, but Encrid, who had spent his life obsessed solely with the sword, had no such gift. He searched and searched. He kept observing, looking for anything that felt out of place, until it was deep into the night. "Aren't you going back?"

The cobbler called from behind him, away from the passages. Encrid headed back and saw the man's face at the top of the sloping ramp. He answered as he climbed. "I don't know what's inside, but there doesn't seem to be any immediate danger. Let's block the entrance and wait until tomorrow. I'll bring reinforcements."

"Couldn't you have called for reinforcements instead of pacing around?" Normally, that would have been a fair point. But if one of those reinforcements entered a passage and triggered an explosion, wouldn't that be the end of it? They would all die. "There were things I needed to examine."

He pretended to be an expert, someone well versed in this sort of work. The cobbler nodded, though he still looked doubtful. After blocking the hole again, Encrid headed back to base. The moon hung overhead. A full moon. The weather had softened a little during the day, but night brought the chill back. He pulled his demonic-beast-hide coat closed and glanced behind him. The cobbler didn't seem to have broken through the covered floor and gone below, though he had seemed a curious sort.

'There would've been an explosion if he had.' Again, the question arose. What would happen if the night passed like this? It was hardly a side issue. Sooner or later, he would need to bring these repeating todays to an end.

'I should have tested this long ago.' Then again, his circumstances until now had hardly been ideal for experiments. His todays had repeated on battlefields where one wrong turn meant death, or while he was dodging an assassin's dagger. After days like those, a day like this might have seemed anticlimactic, but Encrid took it in stride. He always trained and repeated the same way. Being trapped in "today" made no difference. "Didn't you go out to kill a demonic beast? Went to kill boots instead, did you? Get any?"

Rem asked as Encrid entered their quarters. He seemed to know exactly what commission Encrid had taken and where he'd gone. Encrid brushed the dirt off the seat of his trousers and answered. "Killed about three. A productive day."

"... Let's not talk." Rem didn't start a war of words he was bound to lose. When Encrid put his mind to it, his skill with his tongue was far superior. After enduring Jaxon's killing intent until bedtime, Encrid lay down. He did worry that someone might kill him to make today repeat, but nothing happened, and he slept undisturbed.

* * *

When he opened his eyes the next day and saw events unfolding, Encrid murmured inwardly.

'It's repeating.' Today was repeating. Sleeping and waking up was apparently no different from dropping dead. And so today began again. Once more, he paced before the branching passages. This repetition of today came without the agony of death, but he remained the same. He still gave it everything he had. He still struggled desperately. Being trapped in today was the worst possible fate for Encrid. Then how could he escape? The ferryman didn't have to tell him.

'I have to get past this place.'

* * *

The torch went out. His eyes, accustomed to its light, could see only darkness around him. WHOOSH. He struck his flint again, lit another torch, and raised it. Encrid looked at the six branching passages.

'In a setup like this, one of the six must be the real route, right?' The easy way was to throw himself in and check all six, one by one. Instead, he chose to hone his Sixth Sense. And it was having some effect.

'Foreboding.'

Something that stirred his survival instinct. He had felt it faintly on his sixth today, so once again he spent today much as he had before. "What on earth are you doing all day?"

To soothe the bewildered cobbler, he offered an excuse he'd thought up during a previous today.

"Checking what's inside. It looks like there are traps. A thieves' guild seems to have secretly built a passage, so don't go in." The Gilfin Guild wasn't the only thieves' guild in the city, but they were the ones Encrid had in mind. In effect, he had used their name. It was a plausible excuse, the product of some thought, if not deep deliberation, during his pacing. The cobbler nodded.

"All right." Back at their quarters, Encrid found himself under Jaxon's gaze and had to feel the killing intent he projected. This happened every evening. Even after enduring it with cold sweat on his forehead, he had no intention of sleeping. If sleep had made the day repeat, what would happen if he stayed awake all night? He wanted to know. He held out, determined to see the next day's dawn. "Meow."

Esther came up beside him and tapped his back with a paw. She seemed to be protesting, asking why he wasn't asleep.

"Go to sleep without me," he said, stroking the top of her head. As he waited for dawn, he blinked for an instant. And saw the black river. "Pointless."

The ferryman was nowhere to be seen, but his words remained. When Encrid opened his eyes again—

"What're you doing?"

His head was heavy and fatigue still weighed on his body, as it would after a sleepless night. Yet today had repeated again. 'What if I don't even blink?'

Would the day continue then? But how could anyone go without blinking? Even becoming a knight wouldn't make that possible. Repeating today was therefore unavoidable. 'So you're telling me to live only for today.'

Fine. He already knew how to reach tomorrow, anyway. He headed to the cobbler's shop again and endured today, more tired than before. It wasn't particularly difficult. He had fought and fled for several sleepless nights in the past, after all. And so he repeated today, again and again. Without the agony of death, could it be called peaceful? Would that peace lull him into settling for today? No. Encrid did no such thing. He did not change. Today upon today upon today upon today upon today upon today. Seventy-eight repetitions. He had lived through days that unfolded exactly the same way each time. When Encrid returned to their quarters, he dodged the killing intent Jaxon projected. Two steps to the side. A feat possible only through a precise perception of another's killing intent. It could have been coincidence, so Jaxon projected his killing intent again. Fixing his gaze on a small area with the determination to kill anyone who crossed it—that was the principle behind projecting killing intent. Encrid turned his body, letting that killing intent slip past. Without unlocking his Sixth Sense, he couldn't even have imitated such a feat. And not merely cracking the door open, either. He had to throw it wide. "... What was that?"

'Turns out the survival instinct works wonderfully.'

That was his inward answer.

"It just came to me."

What he said aloud was different. Of course, his inward answer was the truth. Traps that brought death. No better training tools existed. Encrid had chewed on them, torn into them, savored them, and enjoyed them. They had thrown open the door to his Sixth Sense. And that was how he'd made Jaxon's eyes widen like that. "Just like that?"

Was such a thing possible? No. Yet it had happened right before his eyes. Jaxon was deeply rattled, but didn't let it show. He merely nodded. What else could he do? Encrid said he'd done it. He'd been wondering how to spur Encrid on, since he seemed to be making no progress at all. He had thought up all sorts of methods. Now every one of them was useless. "It's thanks to you."

Encrid's words made Jaxon feel inexplicably pleased. Of course, he soon murmured inwardly, as he always did.

'As if any of this matters.' Even as he thought that, Jaxon felt satisfied again. Whatever the process, Encrid had thrown the door wide, just as Jaxon had hoped. The corners of his mouth rose briefly, then fell back. That was how happy he was.