WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Abstract

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

A KNIGHT WHO ETERNALLY REGRESSES

Chapter 86: What Changes When the Gate Opens

The Gate of the Sixth Sense had been opened and it sensed what could harm the body. However, it was more like an antenna that could detect movements within a certain radius around Enkrid.

Once the gate was open, he realized what it truly was.

‘If I use it differently…’

Could it let him read the movements of someone behind him? He mentally pictured Rem’s actions behind him. Picking his nose, flicking the result away, shifting around under his warm leather cloak, and finally lifting his head. His gaze stopped at Enkrid's back.

To explain it in detail, it was a process of hearing a sound, guessing its cause, and then predicting the person’s movement, all happening in an instant.

This was the "Gate of the Sixth Sense." It was something he could do with the gate open.

‘If that’s the case…’

Avoiding a club being swung at him from behind shouldn’t be too difficult. It was the realm of sixth sense, intuition, and instinct. Finally, he understood the instinctual hunting method that Jaxon had mentioned, the one used by beasts.

The Gate of the Sixth Sense was a tool that instantly condensed all the surrounding information into his mind. So, if applied correctly, it could even allow him to sense Rem picking his nose behind him.

“Some fools call this a sixth sense, but that’s bullshit. It’s just having good intuition, and that’s all there is to it.”

That was how Jaxon had described it. So, it was natural that the more it was applied, the broader its range of use became. Of course, there were also precautions to be taken.

“If you trust your intuition too much, you might get fooled. Be careful.”

As he said this, Jaxon placed his left hand on Enkrid’s shoulder. But just before Jaxon’s hand touched his shoulder, Enkrid had a sudden illusion that Jaxon was aiming for his neck instead.

It was a strange trick. In some ways, it was similar to the Vallen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

Even with the Gate of the Sixth Sense open, nothing changed in terms of escaping the repetition of today. Enkrid simply started living through the same day once more.

But now, he had the feeling that the outcome might be different this time. In fact, it wasn’t just a feeling. He was now confident that he could overcome that deadly trap.

He donned a leather cuirass, strapped a longsword to his left hip, and a guard sword with a thick blade to his lower back. He carefully secured his Whistle Throwing Knives in their sheaths and concealed small knives in both ankles.

Then he put on his gambeson, completing the light infantry’s full armor. He was so familiar with it that he didn’t waste any time gearing up. He had rushed through breakfast to be ready as soon as possible.

‘On the way, I’ll just pick up a few more torches.’

He had traveled this path dozens of times. Even stopping by the general store along the way was so familiar that he was sick of it.

“Are you going to the shoemaker’s to put a sword to his throat? Or are you planning to fight for your life against some boots?”

Rem, who had overheard the gist of the request, teased him. He spoke while lying in bed, only his face peeking out.

“I won’t come back until I’ve sliced up ten pairs of boots.”

It was the same joke he made every day.

‘It’s almost like the repetition of today is making me repeat the same jokes.’

Rem’s true feelings were partially visible. It probably bothered him that Enkrid was going to the shoemaker’s instead of hunting monsters.

“Just get it done quickly and let’s go chop off some monster heads.”

Rem snorted.

Enkrid nodded, thinking that no one could have imagined that such a tunnel would exist beneath the shoemaker’s shop. It was only natural.

‘I wouldn’t have believed it either until I saw it.’

So, he couldn’t help but wonder what lay beyond.

Gaaang.

As Esther saw him off, Enkrid gently flicked Esther’s nose to remember this day.

Kyaang!

Caught off guard, Esther recoiled and shook her head before letting out a fierce cry. Enkrid found it cute and smiled as he said, “I’m heading out.”

He left the barracks and stopped by the general store to buy three torches. He stowed two at his waist, and held one like a club as he walked. He moved quickly, arriving at the shoemaker’s shop and stepping inside.

“Look at this! There’s a hole right here!”

The shoemaker exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, I see it. There’s a hole. Let me take a look.”

The shoemaker, who had spoken with wide eyes, calmed down as Enkrid answered. Instead of fussing, he scanned Enkrid from head to toe.

“…Are you going to war?”

Even patrol soldiers didn’t charge in fully armed like this. Seeing Enkrid in thick cloth armor with full gear, the shoemaker couldn’t help but say that.

“Do your best in even the smallest things. That’s what my sword instructor told me.”

It wasn’t a lie; a sword instructor had once said that to him in passing. Of course, the real reason was that he was just preparing for whatever might happen.

“Someone has laid a nasty trap here, so whatever you do, don’t go inside by mistake.”

Glancing at the hole and warning the shoemaker, Enkrid watched his face turn pale. Then, he asked,

“You can tell just by looking at it?”

Ah, I’m rushing a bit. Enkrid thought and opened his mouth to speak again.

“I’m an expert in this kind of thing.”

He answered nonchalantly, and the shoemaker reluctantly nodded, finally reacting as Enkrid had anticipated.

“A trap? What kind of trap? Why is something like this under my shop?”

Enkrid had no idea either, but he wouldn’t be in the dark for long. He was about to find out. A trap had been set, and it had served its purpose.

The obvious fact was that once the trap was overcome, something would be revealed. There must be something worth hiding if someone went through such lengths just to conceal it.

“Why did they do this here…”

Enkrid paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

“I’m about to find out.”

He was feeling curious himself. He replied and then skillfully descended the slope. He knew this tunnel like the back of his hand now.

He had traveled this path dozens of times, wandering through this narrow tunnel in an attempt to open the Gate of the Sixth Sense. He could almost memorize the ground’s contours.

And so, he stood before the six branching paths again. The first and second tunnels had explosive traps. The third had a vertical blade of wind. There was no need to spend more time training his sixth sense.

He had done enough.

‘Now then.’

Which of the six tunnels was the safe one? Instead of finding out the answer himself, Enkrid wanted to crack open the head of the bastard who had set this up.

‘So sneaky.’

If his sixth sense wasn’t wrong, all the six tunnels were trapped. Over the course of the dozens of repeated days, he had naturally confirmed the accuracy of his sixth sense.

Was the sense of danger it detected accurate? It was accurate. Enkrid had also discovered that the sixth tunnel was no good. If you entered the sixth tunnel, a cloud of smoke would spread from above.

The moment it touched your skin, it caused blisters, and inhaling it brought pain far worse than being cut or stabbed— a poisonous mist.

All six tunnels gave off a sense of foreboding. There was no way out. They were all blocked. Should he stop here? Was he trapped? Was there nothing more he could do?

Instinctively, he knew. To escape today, he had to move beyond this tunnel. Stopping here meant being trapped in today.

The opponent wasn’t a skilled soldier with a keen stab, neither was it a silent assassin, nor was it a hostile army on an unfavorable battlefield. It was just a trap. A spell trap, unmoving and devoid of intelligence.

Enkrid stood before the first tunnel.

‘Step wrong, and I’m toast.’

How did the spell trap activate? With the Gate of the Sixth Sense open, he could observe it from the realm of instinct. No torch was needed.

Enkrid stepped into the tunnel. With each step, cold sweat trickled down his forehead. It felt like he was narrowly avoiding the sharp blades just by brushing past them.

The trigger mechanism for the trap was detection. He avoided the spots where he felt the sense of foreboding with pinpoint focus and the boldness of a beast in his heart.

His steps didn’t falter. By concentrating and opening the Gate of the Sixth Sense, he found the gaps in the spell trap. To an observer, it would just look like he was walking in a zigzag pattern.

But to Enkrid, it felt like he was walking a tightrope. And yet, he thought it was doable. The realm of sixth sense and intuition. He had overcome the trap purely by instinct.

How many people could do something like this?

A sense of accomplishment swelled in his chest. But of course, he had to set those feelings aside for now.

“For now.”

He had made it past the first one. He looked into the darkness ahead and lit the torch. He studied the path carefully, but he no longer felt the same sense of foreboding.

However, he was sure there was something up ahead. It was intuition. Enkrid walked cautiously and soon saw the creature that awaited him.

“Krrr…”

A hunched back, sharp spikes of bone jutting from where the spine should be. Even in the torchlight, its skin was so pale that it looked almost blue.

Its mouth was many times larger than a human’s, drooling thick saliva as it appeared to salivate. Its claws were long, its forearms thick, and its eyes were pitch black.

Through the cracked skin, one could glimpse the sinewy muscles underneath. It was hunched over so much that its fists touched the ground.

A Ghoul.

In this world, there were monsters and beasts. According to theologians, they were creatures born from the ancient wars among gods. But Enkrid didn’t care about that.

The important thing was that these creatures existed. If they resembled animals, they were called beasts. Everything else was referred to as monsters.

Ghouls were monsters that ate humans.

“Why are you coming out here?”

Could this be considered undead? The shoemaker was half right. There was a monster below. But instead of a skeletal soldier, a Ghoul had appeared.

Monsters had no intelligence to hold a conversation. They just lunged at their prey.

“Grrraah!”

Ghouls ate humans. Their flattened, snout-like noses were the holes stuck to their faces and were organs that could detect the scent of humans.

Once they caught the scent of prey, they would charge. The tunnel wasn’t that cramped. But it wasn’t spacious enough to freely move around and swing a sword.

Still, there was room to maneuver.

Schlunk. Clang.

The moment he saw the Ghoul charging, Enkrid drew his longsword and angled it in front of him.

‘Three.’

There were two more behind the first one. Generally, taking down one Ghoul required two or three spearmen. A skilled soldier could handle one with a sword, but it wasn’t something one should attempt if it could be avoided.

Of course, if forced into a situation, you’d have to punch a Ghoul in the face. Just like what Enkrid was doing now.

Thunk!

He thrust his blade forward, stabbing it into the first Ghoul’s chest, then gripped the sword with his left hand and pulled it downward at an angle.

“Grrraaagh!”

A howl erupted, one that no human vocal cords could produce. The Ghoul with the sword in its chest was pulled down by Enkrid’s strength, forced to its knees.

Because of this, the blade slid about a finger’s width down the creature’s body, but it wasn’t enough to slice it in half. Even so, the muscles in his left arm strained under the pressure.

As he subdued one, the next Ghoul lunged with its claws. Having anticipated this, he pivoted on his left foot to dodge and thrust his now-free right fist forward.

Wham!

The Ghoul’s head snapped back as it took a direct hit. The force of the blow momentarily stunned the creature, halting its charge. The third Ghoul behind it tried to push forward.

It stretched out its hand, and its arms were longer than the other two. Ghouls were inherently disproportionate creatures. One might have long arms, another might have thick legs.

Enkrid had already noticed the movements of the last Ghoul and tilted his head just enough to avoid its outstretched claws. Now that he had created an opening, what should he do next?

‘Take them down one by one.’

He just needed to kill them.

In the past— truly in the past, before he started repeating today— he would have died long ago. But the experience, swordsmanship, and martial arts he had accumulated had reached a remarkable level now.

Gripping the sword in both hands, he swung it down. The muscles in both his arms tensed.

Sluuush.

“Grraah!”

One Ghoul split from its chest down to its crotch, spilling purple entrails onto the ground. The fallen torch cast light on the remaining two, their shadows stretching long behind them.

The two mindless monsters charged again. Enkrid, who had smoothly dispatched one of the three, began to dance with his sword once more. Taking quick steps, he aimed a horizontal slash at the Ghoul’s neck.

The last remaining one, he tripped with his foot, sending it sprawling to the ground. Then he stomped on its head with all his might.

Whack!

The head didn’t burst like a pumpkin.

“Grkk, grrrk.”

But black fluid began to seep from the cracks in its skull.

“Now I’m really curious.”

Enkrid muttered as he drove his sword vertically into the remaining Ghoul’s head.

Crunch.

The tip of the blade pierced through the Ghoul’s head and into the ground. Enkrid pulled the sword from the shattered skull.

Three Ghouls.

A fight that would normally require at least six lower-ranked soldiers, but Enkrid had handled it with ease. Since the Ghouls' claws were poisonous, even a scratch could have sent him packing, but he hadn’t been touched.

It was a moment that proved the effectiveness of his training though it was a bit disappointing that no one had witnessed it.

But soon, the creature hiding deeper within would see for itself. Just how relentless his sword could be.

“Whew.”

He took a few deep breaths and shook off the Ghoul’s black fluid from his sword. He then pulled out some cheap linen from his pouch and wiped down the blade. After that, he moved further into the tunnel.

Heading deeper into the tunnel was the path to tomorrow. There was no hesitation.

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