The Gate of the Sixth Sense. He had opened it by sensing things that could harm his body. But it was like an antenna, detecting movement around him within a certain radius.
He understood now that he had opened the gate based on instinct.
‘If I use it differently.’
Perhaps he could even read the movements of the person behind him. Just like that, he pictured Rem's movements in his mind. He picks his nose and flicks it away, fidgets inside his heated leather, then lifts his head.
His gaze stops at Enkrid's back. To explain the detailed process, he heard a sound, guessed the reason for it, and then predicted the other person's movements, but this whole sequence happened in an instant. This was the Gate of the Sixth Sense.
It was what he could do with the opened gate.
‘If it’s like this.’
It seemed it wouldn't be too difficult to dodge a club swung from behind. It was the realm of the sixth sense, of intuition and instinct. Only then did he understand what Jacksen meant by a beast's instinctive way of hunting.
The Gate of the Sixth Sense was meant to gather all the surrounding information in an instant and plant it in his mind. So, if he applied it with focus, he could even know that Rem was picking his nose behind him.
“Thoughtless fools call this spirit-sight, but that’s all bullshit. Your senses just get sharper, that's all.”
According to Jacksen’s explanation, that was how it was. So it was only natural that the more he applied it, the wider its range of use would become. Of course, there were things to be careful about.
“If you trust your senses too blindly, you can be deceived in turn, so be careful.”
As he spoke, Jacksen placed his left hand on Enkrid's shoulder. And until the moment Jacksen's hand touched his shoulder, Enkrid had the illusion that he was aiming for his neck with that hand. It was a strange deception.
In a way, it was similar to Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship. Did opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense change anything about repeating today? No. Enkrid once again began to live the same today.
Except now, he had a premonition that the outcome would be different from all the todays before. In fact, it wasn't much of a premonition. He was now confident he could overcome that heinous trap.
He donned a leather cuirass, a longsword on his left hip, and a thick-bladed guard sword behind his back. He carefully placed whistling throwing knives into the sheaths wrapped around his body and hid a small knife in each ankle. Throwing on padded armor over all that completed the full armament of a lightly armored infantryman.
He was used to it, so he didn't waste any time gearing up. He had even wolfed down his breakfast just for this.
‘I just need to grab 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.
“Are you going to the cobbler's to stick a sword at the owner’s throat to soothe him? Or are you planning to fight the boots with your life on the line?”
Rem, who had roughly heard the request, said this. He was lying in bed with only his face peeking out as he chattered.
“I won’t be back until I’ve sliced ten boots.”
It was their daily joke.
‘It seems he makes similar jokes even as we keep repeating today.’
He caught a glimpse of Rem's true feelings. It was probably because going to a cobbler's shop, not a monster, was what bothered him.
“Just get it over with quickly and let’s go hunt some monster heads.”
Rem said with a snort. Enkrid nodded and thought. No one would think such a tunnel existed beneath 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 lay beyond it.
Kaang.
As Ester saw him off, Enkrid tapped Ester's nose with his fingertip to remember this today.
Krrr!
Ester, caught off guard, backed away, shook her head from side to side, and then let out a fierce cry. Finding it quite cute, Enkrid smiled and said.
“I’m going.”
He left the lodging, stopped by the general store on the way to buy three torches, stuck two in his belt, and walked holding one like a club. He quickened his pace and arrived at the craftsman's shop. As he entered, he heard the surprised craftsman's voice.
“Look! There’s a hole here!”
“You’re right. There is a hole. I'll check it out.”
The craftsman, who had been speaking with wide eyes, surveyed Enkrid from head to toe instead of making a fuss at his reply.
“... Are you going off to war somewhere?”
Even patrol guards don't go on their rounds so perfectly armed. Seeing the thick cloth armor and his state of armament, such words naturally came out of the craftsman’s mouth.
“Always do your best, even in small matters. That’s what the fencing instructor who taught me the sword said.”
A fencing instructor he had actually met in passing had said something like that. So, it wasn't a lie. In reality, he was just fully prepared because he didn't know what might happen.
“Someone has laid a nasty trap, so don't come inside by mistake.”
After glancing into the hole and scaring the craftsman, his face turned pale. Then he asked.
“You know that just by glancing inside?”
Ah, I was a bit hasty. Enkrid thought, then opened his mouth again.
“I’m an expert in this sort of thing.”
When he answered indifferently, the craftsman reluctantly nodded and finally showed the reaction Enkrid had expected.
“A trap? What kind of trap? Why is something like this under my shop?”
That was something Enkrid couldn't know either, but he wouldn't remain ignorant for long. He was about to find out. A trap had been set, and the trap had served its purpose.
The obvious fact here was that. Something would appear once he got past the trap. You only try to hide something if there's something to hide.
“As for why someone did this here.”
Enkrid paused for a moment to catch his breath, then continued.
“I'm about to find out.”
Enkrid's own curiosity was soaring. After answering, he skillfully stepped down the slope. He could now picture the tunnel’s shape and location with his eyes closed.
It was a path he had traveled dozens of times. He had continuously wandered this narrow tunnel to open the Gate of the Sixth Sense. Thanks to that, he had practically memorized the contours of the ground.
And so, he stood before the six forking paths again. The first and second passages had explosions. The third passage had blades of wind falling vertically.
There was no need to spend more time training his sixth sense. He had done enough.
‘Then.’
Which of the six passages was safe? Instead of answering the question he repeated in his mind, Enkrid wanted to pry open the skull of the bastard who made this.
‘Devious.’
Because all six were traps. If his sixth sense was not mistaken, that was the case. Among the dozens of todays, there had naturally been the task of confirming his sixth sense.
Was his danger-sensing ability correct? It was a correct sense. In fact, Enkrid had realized that the sixth path was also wrong.
When he entered the sixth passage, a hazy smoke-like substance spread from above his head. The moment it touched his skin, blisters formed, and if inhaled, it was a poison mist that gifted a pain incomparable to being cut by a sword or stabbed by a spear. He felt an ominous presence from all six passages.
There was no path. It was blocked. Should he stop here?
Was he stuck? Was there nothing more he could do? He knew instinctively.
He had to go beyond this tunnel to escape today. Stopping because the path was blocked meant being trapped in today. The opponent was not a soldier skilled in thrusting.
Nor was it an assassin approaching without a sound. Nor was it a group of enemy soldiers faced on an unfavorable battlefield. It was just a trap.
Just a stationary, unmoving spell trap that lacked reason. Enkrid stood before the first passage.
‘One wrong step and I’m toast.’
How is a spell trap triggered? Having opened the Gate of the Sixth Sense, he could see it from the realm of instinct. He didn't even need a torch.
Enkrid took a step into the passage. With each step, cold sweat trickled down his forehead. It felt like he was precariously navigating his bare body between blades so sharp they would cut at the slightest touch.
The principle of the trap's activation was detection. He walked, avoiding the places where he felt an ominous presence. He activated Single Point Focus, and with the courage of a beast in his heart.
There was no chance of his footsteps faltering. By opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense while focused. He stepped on the spell trap’s blind spots.
To an onlooker, it would just be a zigzagging walk. But Enkrid felt like he was walking a tightrope as he passed through. Still, he thought it was manageable.
The realm of the sixth sense, of intuition. He broke through the trap with instinct alone. How many people could do such a thing?
The sense of accomplishment did make his heart swell with pride. Of course, it was time to put such feelings aside for a moment.
“For now.”
He had overcome the first one. Then, looking into the darkness beyond, he lit a torch. He looked carefully at the path ahead, but he didn't feel the same ominousness as before.
However, it was certain that something was up ahead. It was his intuition. Enkrid walked forward cautiously, and soon he could see the thing that greeted him.
“Grrrrruk.”
A hunched back, with sharp, spine-like bones protruding from where its vertebrae should be. Its skin was so pale that its bluish hue was visible even in the torchlight. Its mouth was several times larger than a human's, and the thick drool it let out made it look like it was salivating.
Its fingernails were long, its forearms were thick, and its eyes were black. Through the cracked skin, the grain of its muscles was faintly visible. Its hunched back allowed its knuckles to touch the floor.
It was a ghoul. In this world, monsters and beasts existed. According to the theologians, they were beings created long ago when the gods killed each other.
That was none of Enkrid's concern. What was important was that such things existed. If it resembled a beast, it was called a monster.
Everything else was called a monster. Among them, the ghoul was a man-eating monster that preyed on humans.
“Why are you popping out here?”
Could this be called an undead? The craftsman's words were half right. There was a monster below.
It just wasn't a skeleton soldier, but a ghoul. Monsters have no intelligence to converse with. They just charge at the sight of prey.
“Kwoooaaar!”
Ghouls eat humans. Their flat, upturned noses, which looked like holes plastered on their faces where a nose bridge should be, were organs for smelling humans. Having caught the scent of prey, they charged recklessly.
The tunnel wasn't that narrow. But it wasn't wide enough to run side to side swinging a sword either. Still, he had enough discretion to move according to the environment.
Schwing, clang.
The moment he saw the charging ghoul, Enkrid drew his longsword and held it diagonally in front of him.
‘Three.’
There were two more behind the first one. Typically, it takes two or three spearmen to take down one ghoul. A skilled soldier could probably do it alone with a sword.
But tactically, it was wise to avoid such attempts if possible. Of course, in a situation where he had no choice, he would have to punch the ghoul in the face. Just like Enkrid was doing now.
Thunk!
He thrust the diagonally held blade, planting it in the first ghoul's chest, then held the sword with only his left hand and pressed down diagonally outwards.
“Grr-gugg-grrr!”
An unearthly scream that could never come from human vocal cords erupted. The ghoul with the sword in it was pulled by Enkrid's strength and fell to its knees. Thanks to that, the blade sank about a finger's width deeper into its body, but he couldn't cleave it in two.
Just this much sent a strain through his left arm muscles. As he subdued one, the one charging behind it swung its claws. He had expected it, so he pivoted on his left foot to dodge, then threw a sharp punch with his freed right hand.
Thwack!
The one hit squarely by the fist had its head snapped back. The shock was fully transmitted, and it couldn't regain its senses. Its charge halted, the third ghoul struggled to rush forward.
It reached out from behind, its arms longer than the other two. Ghouls were a haphazardly formed race. Some had long arms, others had thick legs.
Enkrid had noticed the last ghoul's movement early on, so he simply tilted his head to avoid the jabbing claws. Now that he had created an opening, what should he do next?
‘One by one.’
He just had to kill them. In the past, the true past, before he started repeating today, he would have died long ago. But the experience, swordsmanship, and physical skills ingrained in his body had now reached an extraordinary level.
He gripped the sword, which he had been holding with just his left hand, with both hands and swung down. Power flowed into the muscles of both arms.
Squelch.
“Gruk!”
One ghoul was split from chest to groin, spilling its purple innards below. The torch, which had rolled to one side, illuminated the faces of the remaining two and cast long shadows behind them. The two monsters, having forgotten fear, charged again.
Enkrid's sword, which had smoothly dispatched one when there were three, danced once more. He stepped towards the ghouls repeating their simple movements, beheaded one with the upper horizontal cut of the Northern Heavy Sword. He tripped the last one and stomped on its head with all his might.
Crack!
The head didn't burst like a pumpkin.
“Grr-guh, keek.”
But black fluid did ooze from the cracked skull.
“Now I'm really getting curious.”
Enkrid said as he plunged his sword vertically into the remaining ghoul's head.
Crunch.
The tip of the sword pierced the ghoul's skull and stuck into the ground. Enkrid pulled out the sword that had churned through the shattered skull.
Three ghouls.
A fight that would have required at least six low-rank soldiers, but Enkrid won with ease. The ghouls' claws were poisonous, so even a scratch would have meant he'd have to retreat, but he hadn't been touched. It was a moment that proved his training had not been in vain.
Though it was a little disappointing that no one saw it. Soon, he would be able to show the one hiding in here. Just how unforgiving his sword could be.
“Hoo.”
After taking a few breaths to compose himself, he shook the ghoul's fluid off his sword, took out a cheap linen cloth from his tunic to wipe the blade clean, and then stepped deeper inside. Heading into the tunnel would be the path to tomorrow. There was no hesitation.