Chapter 86 - What Changes When the Door Opens?

Sixth Sense. He had unlocked it by sensing things that could harm his body, but it was an antenna that detected movement within a certain radius around him. Now that instinct had opened the door, he understood.

'If I used it differently...' Might he be able to read the movements of someone behind him?

He pictured Rem moving behind him: picking his nose and flicking away the result, squirming beneath his warming hide, then raising his head. His gaze stopped on Encrid's back.

To describe the process in detail, he heard a sound, inferred what had caused it, then predicted the other person's movements. But that entire sequence happened in an instant. This was Sixth Sense—what he could do now that the door was open.

'With this...' Dodging a club swung at him from behind didn't seem as though it would be very difficult.

Sixth Sense and intuition belonged to the realm of instinct. Only now did he understand the instinctive way animals hunted that Jaxon had described. Sixth Sense gathered all the information around him and fed it into his mind in an instant. By applying it, he could concentrate and even tell that Rem was picking his nose behind him.

"Idiots call this the mind's eye, but that's all bullshit. Your instincts have simply improved. That's all there is to it."

That was Jaxon's explanation. Naturally, the more he experimented with it, the wider its applications became. There were things to watch out for, of course.

"Be careful. Trust your instincts too much, and someone can use them to deceive you."

As he spoke, Jaxon placed his left hand on Encrid's shoulder. Until the moment it touched, Encrid had been under the impression that the hand was going for his throat. A curious deception. In some ways, it resembled the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

Had unlocking Sixth Sense changed anything about his repeating day? No. Encrid began living the same today again. He merely had a feeling that the outcome would be different this time.

In truth, it was hardly a mere feeling. He was now confident he could get past those vicious traps.

He strapped on his leather breastplate, with a longsword at his left hip and the thick-bladed guard sword behind his waist. He filled the sheaths around his body with whistling blades and hid a small knife at each ankle. A gambeson over the top completed a light infantryman's full kit.

He was used to arming himself, so it took little time. He had deliberately wolfed down breakfast so he could get to it.

'Just a few more torches on the way.'

He had traveled this route dozens of times. Even stopping at the general store along the way was something he had repeated past familiarity and well into tedium.

"Planning to calm the cobbler down by holding a sword to his throat? Or are you going to fight his boots to the death?"

Rem had heard the broad details of the commission. He spoke from his bed, with only his face poking out.

"I won't return until I've cut down ten boots."

It was their daily banter.

'Somehow, he keeps making similar jokes every time today repeats.'

Encrid caught a glimpse of what was on Rem's mind. It probably bothered him that Encrid was going to a cobbler's instead of hunting demonic beasts.

"Get it over with and go lop off some demonic beasts' heads," Rem said with a snort.

Encrid nodded, thinking. No one would imagine tunnels like those beneath a craftsman's shop. That was only natural.

'I didn't believe it until I saw it myself.'

It made him wonder anew what lay beyond them.

MRROW.

Esther was seeing him off. To give himself something to remember this today by, Encrid tapped her nose with a fingertip.

HISSS!

Caught off guard, Esther backed away and shook her head from side to side before letting out a fierce cry. Encrid found it quite adorable and smiled.

"I'm off."

He left the quarters and stopped at the general store to buy three torches. He tucked two into his belt and carried the third like a club. Walking briskly, he reached the craftsman's shop and stepped inside.

"Look! There's a hole here!" the startled cobbler exclaimed.

"So there is. I'll take a look."

At Encrid's answer, the wide-eyed cobbler stopped making a fuss and looked him up and down.

"... Off to war, are you?"

Even patrolmen didn't make their rounds this fully equipped. The thick cloth armor and array of weapons had prompted the question before the cobbler could help himself.

"Always do your best, even in small matters. That's what the man who taught me the sword said."

A sword instructor he had met in passing really had said something like that, so it wasn't a lie. In truth, though, he had simply come fully prepared because he didn't know what would happen.

"Someone has set some nasty traps. You mustn't come down here, even by accident."

He glanced into the hole and gave the cobbler a scare. The man's face went pale. Then he asked, "You can tell that from one quick look inside?"

Ah, he had been a little too hasty. Encrid spoke again.

"This sort of thing is my specialty."

At his offhand reply, the cobbler reluctantly nodded, then continued with the reaction Encrid had originally expected.

"Traps? What traps? Why is something like this under my shop?"

Encrid didn't know either, but he wouldn't remain ignorant forever. He was about to find out.

Someone had laid traps, and those traps had served their purpose. The obvious conclusion was that something lay beyond them. People only went to the trouble of concealment when they had something to hide.

"Why someone pulled this shit here..." Encrid paused to steady his breathing before continuing. "That's what I'm about to find out."

His own curiosity was surging. With that answer, he deftly made his way down the slope.

He now knew the tunnels' layout so well that he could have found his way with his eyes closed. He had traveled this path dozens of times, pacing through these narrow tunnels to unlock Sixth Sense. He was on the verge of memorizing every contour of the ground.

Once again, he stood before the six branching passages. The first and second held explosions. In the third, a blade of wind fell vertically from above.

There was no need to spend more time training his Sixth Sense. He had done enough.

'Now, then.'

Which of the six passages was safe? Rather than answering the question he posed silently, Encrid wanted to crack open the skull of the bastard who had built this.

'Sneaky bastard.'

All six were trapped—if his Sixth Sense wasn't mistaken.

Over those dozens of todays, he had naturally tested his Sixth Sense as well. Was his perception of danger accurate? It was. Indeed, Encrid had learned that the sixth passage was another wrong choice.

Entering the sixth passage caused something like cloudy smoke to spread overhead. It was a poisonous mist that raised blisters the instant it enveloped his skin. Breathing it in gifted him pain beyond anything a sword cut or spear wound could inflict.

He sensed foreboding from all six passages. There was no way through. He was blocked. Did he have to stop here? Was he stuck? Was there nothing more he could do?

He knew instinctively that he could only escape today by going beyond these tunnels. Stopping because the way was blocked meant remaining trapped in today.

His opponent wasn't a soldier skilled at stabs, an assassin who approached without a sound, or a band of enemies on an unfavorable battlefield. It was only a trap. A stationary, motionless spell trap with no intelligence.

Encrid stood before the first passage.

'One wrong step and I'm roasted whole.'

How did a spell trap activate? With Sixth Sense unlocked, he could perceive it through instinct. He didn't even need a torch.

He stepped into the passage. Cold sweat ran down his forehead with each step. It felt like edging his bare body between blades sharp enough to cut at the slightest touch.

The traps activated through detection. He walked around the places that felt ominous. With Concentrate on a Single Point active and the beast's boldness filling his heart, his steps would not falter.

Maintaining his focus and perceiving through Sixth Sense, he stepped through the gaps in the spell traps.

To an observer, he would merely have been walking in a zigzag. Encrid felt as though he were crossing a tightrope. Even so, he thought it manageable.

The realm of Sixth Sense and intuition. He had broken through the traps on instinct alone. How many people could do something like this? A sense of accomplishment swelled in his chest. Of course, such feelings would have to wait.

"For now..."

He was past the first obstacle. Looking into the darkness beyond, he lit his torch. He scrutinized the path, but felt none of the earlier foreboding. Still, something definitely lay ahead. His intuition told him so.

Encrid walked forward cautiously and soon saw what awaited him.

"Grrrrk."

It had a hunched back, with pointed, thornlike bones protruding along its spine. Its skin was pale enough that he could make out its blue color even by torchlight. Its mouth was several times larger than a human's, and the thick saliva dripping from it made it look as though it were drooling over a meal.

Its nails were long, its forearms thick, its eyes black. Strands of muscle showed through cracks in its skin. It stooped so low that both fists touched the ground.

A Ghoul.

Monsters and demonic beasts existed in this world. According to theologians, they had come into being long ago, when gods slaughtered one another. That was none of Encrid's concern. What mattered was that creatures like these existed.

Those resembling animals were called demonic beasts. Everything else was called a monster. Among them, Ghouls were man-eating creatures.

"What are you doing down here?"

Could this be called undead? The cobbler had been half right. There was a monster down here—just a Ghoul rather than a skeleton soldier or the like.

Monsters lacked the intelligence for conversation. They simply charged when they saw prey.

"GRAAAARGH!"

Ghouls ate humans. Their flat, upturned noses had no bridge and looked like holes set into their faces, but those organs could detect the scent of humans. At the smell of prey, they charged headlong.

The tunnel wasn't particularly cramped, though there wasn't room to dart from side to side while swinging a sword. Encrid could at least adapt his movements to his surroundings.

SHING. CLANG.

The instant he saw the Ghoul charging, Encrid drew his longsword and held it angled up before him.

'Three.'

Two more followed behind the first. Ordinarily, it took two or three pikemen to bring down a single Ghoul. A skilled soldier could kill one alone with a sword, but tactically, it was best to avoid such attempts.

Of course, if left with no other choice, one would have to punch a Ghoul in the face if necessary. Just as Encrid was doing now.

THUNK!

He drove the angled blade into the first Ghoul's chest, then held the sword with only his left hand and pressed diagonally down and outward.

"GRRRGH-GRRRK!"

A hideous cry no human throat could produce erupted. The impaled Ghoul was forced to its knees by Encrid's strength. The blade cut roughly a finger joint lower through its body, but he couldn't cleave it in two. This alone strained the muscles of his left arm.

As he pinned the first one down, the creature charging behind it swung its claws. Expecting the attack, he pivoted on his left foot to evade and snapped out a short punch with his freed right hand.

THWACK!

The solid punch snapped the creature's head back. It took the full force of the blow and was left dazed. With its charge stopped, the third Ghoul struggled to get at him.

It stretched a hand out from behind the others. Its arms were longer than theirs. Ghouls came in all sorts of shapes: some had long arms, others thick legs.

Encrid had noticed the last Ghoul's movement well in advance. He merely tilted his head to evade the claws thrusting straight at him. Now that he had created an opening, what came next?

'One at a time.'

All he had to do was kill them. In the past—the distant past, before today began repeating—he would already have died. But the experience, swordsmanship, and unarmed skills ingrained in his body had now reached an exceptional level.

He took the sword he had been holding in his left hand in both hands and dragged it down. The muscles in both arms tightened.

RRRIP.

"GURK!"

One Ghoul split open from chest to groin, spilling purple entrails beneath it. The torch, which had rolled off to one side, lit the faces of the remaining two and cast long shadows behind them.

The two creatures, devoid of fear, charged again. Encrid had killed one without difficulty when there were three. His sword danced once more.

He stepped toward a Ghoul repeating its simple movements and severed its neck with a high horizontal cut of the Heavy Sword Technique. He tripped the last one, then stamped down hard on its head.

CRACK!

Its head didn't burst like a pumpkin, but...

"Grrk, keek."

Black fluid poured from its fractured skull.

"Now I'm really curious."

As he spoke, Encrid drove his sword straight down into the remaining Ghoul's head.

CRUNCH.

The sword tip pierced its skull and sank into the earth. Encrid pulled the blade out of the shattered head it had torn through.

Three Ghouls. The fight would have required at least six low-grade soldiers, but Encrid had won with ease. Their poisonous claws would have forced him to turn back after even a graze, yet they hadn't so much as brushed him.

It was proof that all his training had not been in vain. He was a little disappointed that no one had seen it. Soon, though, he would be able to show whoever was hiding down here just how merciless his sword could be.

"Whew."

After a few steadying breaths, Encrid flicked the Ghoul fluids from his sword, took some cheap linen from inside his clothes, and wiped the blade clean. Then he headed deeper inside. The path into the tunnels would be the path to tomorrow. He did not hesitate.