Chapter 86 - What changes when the door is opened.

The door to the Sixth Sense.

I had opened it by sensing what would cause harm to my body.

But this was an antenna that detected movement around me within a certain radius.

Having opened the door based on instinct, I could tell.

'If I use it differently.'

Wouldn't I be able to read the movements of the person behind me?

Just like that, I pictured Rem's movements behind me in my head. He picks his nose and flicks it away, wriggles his body inside the heated leather, and then raises his head. His gaze stops on my back.

To explain the detailed process, it was hearing a sound, guessing the reason for that sound, and then predicting the opponent's movement, but that series of processes happened all at once.

This was the 'Sixth Sense'.

It was what could be done with the open door.

'With this.'

It didn't seem like it would be that difficult to dodge even if someone swung a club from behind.

The realm of the Sixth Sense, intuition, and instinct.

Only then did I understand the beast's instinctive hunting method that Jaxon had mentioned.

The door of the Sixth Sense served the purpose of instantly condensing all surrounding information and implanting it into my head.

So if I applied it, I could know that Rem was picking his nose behind me just by concentrating.

"Mindless fools call this the mind's eye, but that's all bullshit. It's just getting a better feel for things, that's all."

According to Jaxon's explanation, that was the case. So it was natural that the more I applied it, the wider the scope of its use became.

Of course, there were things to be careful of.

"If you blindly trust your senses too much, you can be deceived in turn, so be careful."

Saying that, Jaxon had placed his left hand on Encrid's shoulder. And right until Jaxon's hand touched his shoulder, Encrid had the illusion that Jaxon was aiming for his neck with that hand.

It was a strange trick.

In a way, similar to the Valen Mercenary Sword Technique.

Did opening the door of the Sixth Sense change anything about repeating today? No. Encrid began to live the exact same today once again.

He just had a premonition that the result would be different from the todays up until now.

Actually, there was nothing to even call a premonition.

Since he now had the confidence to get past that brutal trap.

He put on a leather breastplate, a longsword on his left waist, and a guard sword with a thick blade behind his waist.

He packed Whistle Daggers, slotting them tightly into the sheaths wrapped around his body, and hid small knives in both ankles.

Once he threw a gambeson over all that, it was the full armory of light armored infantry.

Because he was used to it, he didn't waste time arming himself.

To do this, he purposefully wolfed down breakfast in the blink of an eye and got moving.

'If I just pack a few more torches on the way.'

It was a path he had traveled dozens of times. Even stopping by the general store on the way was something he had repeated to the point of being sick of it, let alone being used to it.

"Are you planning to hold a sword to the owner's neck to appease him at the shoemaker's shop? Or are you planning to risk your life fighting a pair of boots?"

These were the words of Rem, who had roughly heard the details of the request. Rem chattered with only his face sticking out while lying in bed.

"I won't return until I slice up ten boots."

It was the same joke they made every day.

'Somehow, it feels like we make similar jokes even when repeating today.'

Rem's true intentions were briefly visible. It was probably because going to a shoemaker's shop instead of dealing with beasts was annoying in itself.

"Take care of it quickly and go pop a beast's head off."

Rem snorted and said.

Encrid nodded and thought.

No one would think there was such a tunnel in the basement of a craftsman's shop. It was only natural.

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

So he was curious all over again.

What could be beyond it.

Bark.

Seeing Esther off, Encrid lightly tapped Esther's nose with his fingertip to remember today.

Grrr!

Esther, who had been caught off guard, backed away, shook his head left and right, and soon let out a fierce cry.

Finding that quite cute, Encrid smiled and said.

"I'm off."

And so he left the quarters, stopped by the general store on the way to buy three torches, stuck two in his waistband, and walked holding the other like a club.

He moved his feet quickly, arriving and entering the craftsman's shop.

"Look! There's a hole here!"

He heard the surprised craftsman speak.

"You're right. There is a hole. I'll check it out."

The craftsman, who had been speaking with surprised eyes, scanned Encrid's entire body instead of making a fuss at Encrid's reply.

"... Are you heading out to war or something?"

Not even patrolmen wandered around fully armed like this. Seeing the thick cloth armor and state of armament, those words naturally slipped from the craftsman's mouth.

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

A swordsmanship instructor he had met in passing had actually said something like that.

Therefore, it wasn't a lie.

In truth, it was just that he had made full preparations because he didn't know what would happen.

"Someone laid out a nasty trap, so you must not come inside, even by mistake."

When he briefly glanced inside the hole and frightened the craftsman, the man's complexion turned pale.

Then he asked.

"You can tell just by glancing inside?"

'Ah, I was in a bit of a rush.'

Encrid thought as he spoke again.

"I'm an expert in this sort of thing."

When he answered indifferently, the craftsman reluctantly nodded and opened his mouth again, showing the reaction Encrid had originally expected.

"A trap? What trap? Why is something like this under my shop?"

That was something Encrid couldn't know either, but he wouldn't remain ignorant for long.

Because he was about to find out.

A trap was laid out, and the trap performed its original role.

The obvious fact to glean from this was.

Something would appear once the trap was crossed.

People only try to hide things when they have something to hide.

"As for why they did this kind of crap here."

Encrid paused for a moment, steadied his breathing, and continued.

"I'm going to find out from now on."

Since Encrid's curiosity had also just surged up.

He answered and skillfully stepped down the ramp.

Where and in what shape the tunnel was formed, it was now clear as day even with his eyes closed.

It was a path he had traversed dozens of times. He had continuously roamed around this narrow tunnel to open the door to the Sixth Sense.

Thanks to that, he was on the verge of memorizing even the curves of the ground.

And so he stood before the six forks in the road again.

The first and second passages had explosions.

In the third passage, blades of wind fell vertically.

There was no need to waste any more time to train his Sixth Sense.

He had done enough.

'Then.'

Which was the safe path among the six passages?

Instead of answering the question echoed in his mind, Encrid wanted to crack open the head of the bastard who made this.

'Insidious.'

Because all six were traps.

That was the case if his Sixth Sense wasn't wrong.

Among the dozens of todays, there was naturally the task of confirming his Sixth Sense.

Was his sense of detecting danger truly correct?

It was a correct sense.

In fact, Encrid had also learned that the sixth path was wrong.

If he entered the sixth passage, something like cloudy smoke would spread from above his head.

It was a poison fog that caused blisters to erupt the moment it wrapped around the skin, and when inhaled, gifted a pain incomparable to being cut by a sword or stabbed by a spear.

An ominous feeling was felt from all six passages. There was no path. It was blocked.

Should he stop here? Were his feet tied? Was there nothing more he could do?

He knew instinctively. That he had to head beyond this tunnel to escape today.

Stopping because the path was blocked meant being trapped in today.

The opponent wasn't a soldier skilled at stabbing.

Nor an assassin approaching silently.

Nor a group of enemy forces faced on a disadvantageous battlefield.

It was just a trap.

Just a stationary, immobile Spell trap devoid of intellect.

Encrid stood in front of the first passage.

'Roasted whole if I step wrong.'

How did the Spell trap activate?

Because he had opened the door of the Sixth Sense, he could look at it from the realm of instinct.

He didn't even need a torch.

Encrid shifted his steps into the passage.

Cold sweat flowed down his forehead every time he took a step. It felt like narrowly dodging with his bare body through blades that would cut him with just the touch of a finger.

The trap's activation principle was detection.

He walked, avoiding the places where the ominous feeling was felt.

Activating Concentrate on a Single Point, the boldness of a beast dwelled in his heart.

There was no chance of his footsteps wavering.

By keeping the door of the Sixth Sense open while concentrating.

He stepped into the gaps of the Spell trap.

If anyone saw it, it would just be a zigzagging walk.

Encrid passed through feeling like he was walking on a tightrope. Even so, he thought it was manageable.

The realm of the Sixth Sense, intuition.

He broke through the trap using instinct alone.

How many people out there could do such a thing?

His chest did swell with pride at that sense of achievement.

Of course, it was time to put such feelings aside for a moment.

"First off."

He had gotten past the first one.

After that, he lit the torch while looking beyond the darkness.

He observed the path carefully, but he couldn't feel the same ominousness as before.

However, it was certain that there was something ahead.

It was intuition.

Encrid walked out cautiously, and soon he could see the bastard greeting him ahead.

Grrruk.

A hunched back, with sharp thorn-like bones protruding where its spine was.

Its skin color was pale enough that even in the torchlight, it was visibly bluish.

Its mouth was several times larger than a human's, and the way it drooled thick saliva looked like it was swallowing in anticipation.

Its nails were long, its forearms were thick, and its eyes were pitch-black.

The grain of its muscles was briefly visible through its cracked skin.

Thanks to its slouched waist, the bastard's fists touched the floor.

It was a Ghoul.

In this world, monsters and beasts existed.

According to theologians, they were existences born from gods slaughtering each other in the distant past.

That was none of Encrid's business.

It was only important that such bastards existed.

If it resembled an animal, it was a beast.

Everything else was called a monster.

Among them, Ghouls were man-eating monsters that preyed on humans.

"Why are you popping out of here?"

Could this be called an undead?

The craftsman's words were half right.

Because there was a monster underneath.

Only, it wasn't something like a skeleton soldier, but a Ghoul.

Monsters possessed no intellect to converse with. They only rushed at their prey.

Gwooooaaar!

Ghouls ate humans. Lacking a nose bridge, their flat, upturned noses—which looked like holes plastered onto their faces—were organs capable of smelling humans.

Having caught the scent of prey, the bastards pounced outright.

The tunnel wasn't too cramped.

Though it wasn't spacious enough to jump left and right while swinging a sword either.

Still, he had enough leeway to maneuver according to the environment.

Srrng, clang.

The moment he saw the rushing Ghoul, Encrid drew his longsword and held it diagonally in front of him.

'Three.'

Behind the first one, there were two more.

Generally, it took two or three spearmen to take down a single Ghoul.

A skilled soldier might kill one alone with a sword.

But it was tactically correct to avoid such attempts if possible.

Of course, if forced into an unavoidable situation, one would have to punch the Ghoul right in the face.

Just like Encrid right now.

Puk!

He thrust the diagonally held blade into the first Ghoul's chest, grabbed the sword with only his left hand, and pressed down in an outward diagonal slash.

Grrkrrggrrr!

A screech that could never emerge from human vocal cords erupted. One Ghoul, with a sword lodged in it, dropped to its knees dragged down by Encrid's strength.

Thanks to that, the blade sank about a finger's joint lower into its body, but he couldn't bifurcate it.

Just from this, a heavy strain surged into his left arm muscles.

Having subdued one like that, the bastard rushing in behind it swung its nails.

Since it was expected, he spun his body around his left foot to dodge, and extended his freed right fist in a snapping punch.

Pow!

Struck dead-on by the fist, the bastard's head snapped back. Thanks to the shock being fully transmitted, the bastard couldn't regain its senses. With the charge halted, the third Ghoul bastard struggled to rush in.

It reached its hand out from behind, and its arms were longer than the other two.

Ghouls were inherently irregular-looking creatures anyway.

Some had long arms, while others had thick legs.

Encrid had already noticed the final Ghoul's movements, so he merely tilted his head, dodging the thrusting nails.

Having created an opening, what should he do next?

'One by one.'

He just needed to kill them.

If it had been before, truly in the past, if it had been the him before repeating today, he would have died already.

The experience, swordsmanship, and physical arts ingrained in his body had now reached an exceptional level.

He grabbed the sword he had been holding with only his left hand with both hands and slashed down.

Power surged into the muscles of both arms.

Riiiiip.

Grrk!

One Ghoul was split open from chest to crotch, spilling purple innards underneath it.

The torch that had rolled to one side illuminated the faces of the remaining two, casting long shadows behind them.

The two monsters, oblivious to fear, pounced again.

Encrid's sword, which had effortlessly killed one off even when there were three, danced once more.

He stepped toward the Ghouls repeating their simple movements, cutting one's neck with a high-level horizontal slash of the Heavy Sword Technique.

He tripped the last remaining one, knocking it over, then stomped forcefully on its head.

Crack!

Its head didn't explode like a pumpkin.

Grrg, kiirik.

But black bodily fluids poured out of its cracked skull.

"Now I'm really curious."

Encrid said, plunging his sword vertically into the remaining Ghoul's head.

Crunch.

The tip of the sword pierced through the Ghoul's head and lodged into the ground. Encrid pulled out the sword that had mangled the cracked head.

Three Ghouls.

It was a fight that required at least six lower-grade soldiers, but Encrid had easily prevailed.

Since a Ghoul's nails had poison, he would have had to retreat if he was even grazed, but he wasn't grazed at all.

It was also a moment that proved his training so far had not been in vain.

Since no one saw it, it was a bit disappointing.

He would soon be able to show it to the bastard hiding inside.

Just how cold-hearted his sword could be.

"Phew."

After taking a few breaths to steady himself, flicking the Ghoul's bodily fluids off his sword, and taking out cheap linen from his chest to wipe the blade, Encrid stepped inside again.

Heading into the tunnel would be the path leading to tomorrow.

There was no hesitation.