Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 86 - 86 - What Changes When You Open the Door?
Chapter 86 - What Changes When You Open the Door?
The Door of the sixth sense.
It was opened by sensing what could harm the body, but it turned out to be a sort of antenna that detected movements within a certain radius around the user.
Upon opening it instinctively, it became clear what it was.
'If I use it differently...'
Would it be possible to read the movements of the person behind me?
Enkrid visualized Rem's movements in his mind.
Picking his nose, flicking it away, squirming inside the warm leather, then raising his head.
His gaze stopped on Enkrid's back.
Explaining the process in detail would mean he heard sounds, guessed their source, and predicted the person's actions, but the entire sequence happened instantly.
This was the
Door of sixth sense
, and what could be achieved by opening it.
'If this is the case...'
Dodging someone swinging a club from behind wouldn't be too difficult.
It was the realm of intuition, instinct, and the subconscious.
Finally, Enkrid understood the instinctual hunting method Jaxen had mentioned.
Door of sixth sense
condensed all surrounding information and delivered it directly into the mind.
Thus, through focused application, he could even sense Rem picking his nose behind him.
Or so Jaxen explained.
Naturally, the more it was applied, the wider its range of use became.
However, there was something to be cautious about.
"Trusting your instincts too much can lead to being tricked. Be careful."
As he spoke, Jaxen placed his left hand on Enkrid's shoulder.
Just before Jaxen's hand touched, Enkrid had a momentary illusion that he was aiming for his neck instead.
A strange deception.
In some ways, it was similar to the Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship.
Even after opening the Door of Intuition, what had changed in reliving today over and over?
Nothing.
Enkrid began living the same day again.
The only difference now was a premonition that today's outcome would not be the same as before.
In truth, it wasn't just a premonition.
He now had the confidence to overcome that fiendish trap.
Donning a leather cuirass, a longsword at his left waist, and a thick guard sword strapped to his back, he armed himself.
Throwing in a pouch filled with small throwing daggers, two knives hidden in his boots, and layering a gambeson over it all, he had the full gear of a light infantryman.
The process of arming didn't waste time—he was already accustomed to it.
He had quickly devoured his breakfast just for this, and now moved with purpose.
'If I grab a few more rods on the way...'
It was a path he had walked dozens of times.
Even stopping by a general store on the way was a routine so familiar it had grown tiresome.
"Are you planning to threaten the cobbler with a sword to coax him? Or fight for your boots and your life?"
Rem's voice came from the bed, his face poking out as he lazily chattered.
"I won't return until I've chopped up ten pairs of boots."
It was the same joke they exchanged every day.
'Even though I keep repeating today, the jokes seem oddly consistent.'
It hinted at Rem's feelings.
The cobbler's shop itself seemed to irritate him more than any looming danger.
"Just deal with it quickly and let's go chop off some monster's head," Rem muttered, snorting.
Nodding, Enkrid thought to himself.
No one would expect such a den beneath the craftsman's shop.
It was only natural.
'I didn't believe it myself until I saw it.'
So, he couldn't help but wonder—what lay beyond it?
With a quick gesture, Enkrid tapped Esther's nose as a farewell, earning a surprised leap backward and a fierce growl that soon dissolved into something adorably ferocious.
With a chuckle, he said, "I'm off."
Stopping by the general store, he purchased three rods.
Two were tucked into his waist, and one was held like a club as he walked briskly.
Finally arriving at the craftsman's shop, he stepped inside.
"Look here! There's a hole!" exclaimed the startled craftsman.
"Yes, I see it. I'll check it out," Enkrid replied calmly.
The craftsman, who had been speaking with wide eyes, looked Enkrid up and down, now struck by his imposing appearance.
"...Are you heading off to war?"
Even patrol guards didn't arm themselves this thoroughly.
With thick layers of armor and weapons, the craftsman couldn't help but blurt out his thoughts.
"Always give your best, even in small matters. That's what my sword instructor used to say."
It wasn't entirely a lie—an instructor he'd passed by once had said something similar.
But in reality, he was simply preparing for whatever might come.
"There's a deadly trap set up. Don't go inside, even by accident."
A glance into the hole, combined with a warning, made the craftsman pale with fear.
"But how could you know just by glancing at it?"
Ah, perhaps I rushed too much, Enkrid thought.
"I specialize in this kind of thing," he replied casually.
The craftsman reluctantly nodded, then finally responded with the reaction Enkrid had anticipated.
"A trap? What kind of trap? Why is this under my shop?"
Enkrid couldn't answer that yet, but he would soon.
Because now he intended to find out.
The trap had been laid, and it had fulfilled its purpose.
What was certain was that if there was a trap, there was something to be hidden.
"Why they went to such lengths to set this up..."
Pausing for a moment, Enkrid took a deep breath before continuing.
"I'll find out now."
Curiosity welled within him as he deftly descended the slope.
The layout of the tunnels was etched into his memory as if he could see them with his eyes closed.
He had wandered through this narrow maze repeatedly while training his intuition.
Every contour of the ground was familiar.
Once again, he faced the six branching paths.
The first and second tunnels led to explosions.
The third unleashed vertical blades of wind.
There was no need to waste more time honing his senses.
He'd done enough.
'Now then.'
Among the six paths, where was the safe route?
Instead of answering the question he repeated in his mind, Enkrid found himself wanting to crack open the head of the one who had designed this place.
"Devious."
All six paths were traps.
If his instincts were not failing him, that was the truth.
Having lived through dozens of these same days, Enkrid had naturally tested his instincts as well.
He had to confirm whether his sense of danger was accurate.
And indeed, it was.
Enkrid learned that even the sixth path was wrong.
Entering the sixth passage unleashed a hazy smoke from above.
The moment it touched the skin, blisters erupted.
Breathing it in delivered a pain far surpassing the sting of swords or the thrust of spears.
It was a toxic mist of excruciating agony.
Every single path emanated a sense of foreboding.
There was no way forward—they were all blocked.
Should he stop here?
Was he trapped?
Was there nothing more he could do?
He instinctively knew the answer.
To move beyond this cave was the only way to escape today.
Stopping here, with the paths blocked, meant being trapped in this endless cycle.
His opponent wasn't a skilled soldier adept at thrusting.
It wasn't a silent assassin creeping in the dark.
Nor was it a hostile army encountered on an unfavorable battlefield.
It was merely a trap.
A stationary, mindless spell trap devoid of reason or will.
Enkrid stepped before the first passage.
"One wrong move, and I'm roasted."
Spell traps—how did they activate?
Having opened the door to his intuition, he could perceive them from the realm of instinct.
There was no need for a torch.
Enkrid took a step into the passage.
Sweat dripped down his forehead with every step he took.
It felt as though he were threading his way through razor-sharp blades that could cut him with the slightest touch.
The activation mechanism of the trap was detection.
He moved, avoiding the areas that triggered a sense of foreboding.
Channeling a point of focus and letting the courage of the beast fill his heart, his steps remained steady.
By opening the door of his intuition and focusing, he navigated the gaps in the spell traps.
To anyone watching, his steps would seem like a zigzagging walk, but to Enkrid, it felt like traversing a tightrope.
Yet, even so, he thought it was manageable.
Instinct and intuition guided him.
How many people could overcome such traps with sheer instinct?
The sense of accomplishment filled his chest, though he knew now wasn't the time to indulge in such feelings.
"First one's done."
He lit a torch and peered into the darkness ahead.
The foreboding sensation from earlier had vanished, but there was still something ahead.
He could feel it in his gut.
Walking cautiously forward, he soon saw the creature waiting for him.
"Grurrrk."
It had a hunched back, with sharp bone-like spikes protruding where its spine should be.
Even in the flickering torchlight, its pale blue skin stood out.
Its jaw was several times larger than a human's, drooling thick saliva as if savoring its prey in advance.
Its nails were long, its forearms thick, and its eyes pitch black.
Between its cracked skin, strands of muscle gleamed faintly.
Its stooped posture caused its fists to drag along the ground.
A
ghoul
In this world, there existed beasts and monsters.
According to theologians, they were born from the deaths of gods who once killed one another in ancient times.
That wasn't something Enkrid cared about.
What mattered was that such creatures existed.
If it resembled a beast, it was called a demonic beast.
Everything else was labeled a monster.
Among them, ghouls were cannibalistic monsters that fed on humans.
"Why the hell are you popping out here?"
Could it be considered undead?
The craftsman's prediction was half right.
There was indeed a monster below, though it wasn't a skeletal soldier but a ghoul.
Monsters had no intelligence for conversation.
They only lunged at prey.
"Graaaaah!"
Ghouls fed on humans.
Their flattened noses, appearing more like holes stuck to their faces, were highly sensitive to the scent of humans.
Smelling prey, the creature charged.
The cave wasn't so narrow as to restrict movement, but there wasn't enough space to dodge freely or swing a sword wildly.
However, there was still room to adapt.
Sching, clang.
As the ghoul lunged, Enkrid unsheathed his longsword, angling it diagonally in front of him.
"Three."
Behind the first ghoul were two more.
Generally, taking down a single ghoul required two or three spearmen.
An experienced soldier might manage alone, but strategically, it was better not to attempt it.
Of course, if it came down to it, punching the ghoul in the face would be the last resort.
Just as Enkrid was doing now.
Thwack!
Angling his blade forward, he drove it into the first ghoul's chest.
Gripping the sword with only his left hand, he pressed it diagonally downward, forcing the creature to its knees with a guttural scream no human vocal cords could replicate.
Even so, the blade didn't cleave through completely, and his left arm bore the strain of the effort.
With one ghoul subdued, the second swiped its claws, but Enkrid had anticipated it.
Pivoting on his left foot, he twisted his body to evade and delivered a crushing punch with his free right hand.
Crack!
The punch landed squarely, snapping the creature's head back and momentarily disorienting it.
While the third ghoul stretched its unnaturally long arms toward him, Enkrid sidestepped the swipe with a mere tilt of his head.
Having created an opening, there was only one thing left to do.
"One at a time."
It was a simple matter of killing them.
Had this been in the past—truly the past, before he began repeating today—he would've been dead already.
But now, his body, armed with experience, swordsmanship, and martial arts, had reached a whole new level.
Gripping the sword with both hands, he brought it down with all his strength.
Squelch.
"Grgh!"
The blade tore through one ghoul, splitting it from chest to groin as violet entrails spilled out.
The fallen torch illuminated the remaining two creatures, their shadows stretching long behind them.
Unfazed by fear, the monsters charged again.
Having already dispatched one with ease, Enkrid's sword danced once more.
He sidestepped the second ghoul, delivering a horizontal slash to decapitate it, and tripped the final one with a sweeping kick before stomping down hard on its head.
Thud!
The skull didn't quite burst like a pumpkin, but—
"Grkk, rrrk."
Black fluid oozed from the cracked head.
"Now I'm really curious."
Muttering to himself, Enkrid drove his sword vertically into the last ghoul's head.
Crunch.
The blade pierced through the skull and lodged into the ground.
Enkrid twisted it to ensure the creature was thoroughly dispatched before withdrawing it.
Three ghouls.
A battle that would normally require at least six lower-ranked soldiers was easily won by Enkrid alone.
Even though a ghoul's claws were laced with poison, not a scratch touched him.
It was a testament to his training and progress.
Though it was a shame no one was there to witness it, he figured the hidden foe within this cave would soon see the cruelty of his blade.
"Haah."
After steadying his breath, he wiped the ghoul's black fluid from his sword using a scrap of linen.
Then, with no hesitation, he stepped further into the cave.
Beyond this place lay tomorrow.

Comments

Loading...