Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 85: The Gate of Sixth Sense

“Jaxson.”

As soon as Encrid woke up, he sought out Jaxson.

“What do you need?”

“The Gate of Sixth Sense—would that help you instinctively sense danger too?”

“That’s just the beginning.”

It was why Jaxson had been recklessly exuding killing intent all along.

Survival instinct.
Something all living beings possess.
If that was the beginning…

‘So, this was it.’

That tickling sensation that stirred his heart.
A fleeting feeling, but definitely something like that.

Of course, it wasn’t something he could perfectly engrave into his body in just one attempt.
His lack of talent was the reason for that.

But he didn’t complain.
There was no point in brooding over the lack of talent—nothing would change by dwelling on it. All he could do was keep moving forward.

Encrid got up. Today had begun once more, and it was time to move diligently.

“Let’s go.”

With the same task in hand, he picked up a torch and headed back to the shoemaker’s shop.

This was the fourth attempt.

This time, he arrived even before the first hammer blow struck.

“Let’s break through together.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Ignoring the shoemaker’s confusion, Encrid joined him in breaking through the floor.

And there it was again—the six branching paths.
The moment he stood before the first and second passages, he felt it.

That tingling sensation.

The feeling that could only be described as ominous.

Encrid unconsciously smiled at that moment.

‘This is it.’

This place, where he had only come to keep the shoemaker from dying.
A place where, if it proved futile after a few attempts, it should have been sealed off due to the spell trap inside.

But Encrid had no intention of staying trapped in this ‘today.’
It was an accident—and accidents could be avoided if one had the will to do so.
After all, he could request a military squad to investigate the pit and force the shoemaker and his daughter to leave by any means necessary.

That would be the last resort.
Entering without knowledge would guarantee death, with the spell trap in place.
Even if he wasn’t the one to die, he couldn’t let it happen without doing something.

And yet, he couldn’t just summon a mage—a service more valuable than gold—because a mere squad leader made the request.
Even if he claimed there was a spell trap, who would believe him?
Most people would dismiss it as nonsense.

‘Maybe my squad members or the company commander might believe me.’

In any case, here was the conclusion:

This was the perfect place to train the Gate of Sixth Sense.

Realizing that, a thrill surged within him. On his fourth attempt, he had finally found a crack in the Gate of Sixth Sense.
Now, all that was left was to pry it open.

And so, he stepped into the third passage.

In that instant, a new kind of pain struck him—a blade invisible to the eye split him vertically from head to toe.

The agony was excruciating.
The sharp wind whistling in his ears, the coldness left in his body, the blood pouring onto the floor—it felt as though all his strength was draining away.

Not a single sensation was one he wanted to experience again. It was torment. That was to be expected.

However, the new understanding he gained from the experience made him forget the pain.
Thus, the repeated nature of today wasn’t entirely unbearable.

He simply pressed forward for the sake of tomorrow.

—

On the fifth morning, Encrid set a goal for himself so that he wouldn’t become complacent.

‘Open the Gate of Sixth Sense and pass through this tunnel.’

Anyone who heard this would call him insane.

But to Encrid, it was just another moment of training.

Progress meant moving forward.
It meant growth.
It wasn’t merely about struggling for the sake of tomorrow—it was something else.

“You said there’s a pit under my shop. Why are you smiling?”

The shoemaker asked, puzzled by Encrid’s smile.

“I have a passion for exploring the unknown.”

Throwing out a random excuse, Encrid prepared to descend. But the shoemaker grabbed his arm.

“I heard something moving down there. Be careful.”

“Of course.”

There were many things Encrid wanted to test.

He descended and stood before the passage. The ominous sensation didn’t immediately strike him this time.

‘Looks like the gate is partly open.’

From now on, he intended to pry it open fully.

Throwing himself blindly into the trap was no longer part of the plan. He’d learned that much by now—it didn’t work that way. This was his fifth attempt.

Even if he couldn’t break free today, he still intended to keep struggling. He wasn’t going to waste a single day.

So what needed to be done?

Encrid spent the entire day pacing slowly before the paths.

From the first path to the second, and from the second to the sixth.

Then back again—from the sixth to the first.

He did this until all five torches burned out.

By the time it felt like the day should have ended, he was still going.

“What are you doing, exactly?”

At first, the shoemaker had been confused.

“Aren’t you going to stop for lunch?”

He brought Encrid a meal.

“Why are you just walking back and forth, like a duck crossing a river?”

Later, the shoemaker’s daughter came by, puzzled.

“Didn’t you come here on a mission? Why are you doing this?”

Even the herbalist from the neighboring shop joined in to watch.

On the surface, it seemed like a meaningless task.

But Encrid had been wholly focused, trying to detect any strange sensations.

How did the Gate of Sixth Sense activate? According to Jaxson, it relied on instinct—on senses acting within the realm of intuition.

The sixth sense was supposed to detect danger even before the mind realized it.
This was the start—searching for something that felt out of place.

Despite watching all day, nothing happened.

Then a sudden thought crossed his mind.

‘What if I survive the entire day without dying? What happens then?’

It was a curious question. Even after countless trips back and forth through the passage, he had found nothing.

‘It’s about one and a half times my height.’
The tunnel seemed quite deep, though he couldn’t tell where it led.

The walls and ceiling, despite being dusty, were sturdy.
There were no pillars, but the structure didn’t look like it would collapse anytime soon.

The air was damp, but there was a slight breeze.

The darkness inside was impenetrable, even with a torch.

‘Anything else?’

The smell—there was a faint metallic scent, but it wasn’t overpowering.
Could there be undead creatures lurking inside?

A priest might have sensed it immediately, but Encrid, who had spent his life devoted only to the sword, lacked that ability.

He kept searching, over and over again, trying to sense something out of the ordinary.

It was already late into the night by the time the shoemaker called out to him.

“Are you coming back?”

Looking up the slanted slope, Encrid saw the shoemaker’s face.

Encrid climbed back up.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything immediately dangerous. Let’s seal the entrance and wait until tomorrow. I’ll bring reinforcements.”

“You could’ve called for help instead of pacing around all day.”

Normally, that would’ve been the right course of action.

But if someone entered the tunnel and triggered the trap, that would be the end for everyone.

They’d all die together.

“I needed to inspect it.”

Feigning expertise, as if he were accustomed to this sort of thing, Encrid managed to persuade the shoemaker, who reluctantly nodded.

They sealed the pit, and Encrid returned to the barracks.

The moon hung overhead—a full moon.

The temperature, which had warmed slightly during the day, had dropped again at night.

Encrid glanced back toward the shoemaker’s shop.

The shoemaker hadn’t gone down there, it seemed.
Despite his curiosity, the man had refrained.

‘If he had, there would’ve been an explosion.’

And with that, a new question arose:

What would happen if the night passed without incident?

It wasn’t just a trivial question—at some point, this endless loop needed to end.

‘I should have tested this sooner.’

Then again, the circumstances hadn’t exactly been favorable for experiments.
Most of the loops had taken place on battlefields, where surviving meant dodging assassins’ daggers and enduring brutal skirmishes.

Compared to those relentless days, today might seem uneventful, even dull.
But Encrid remained unfazed.

He trained and repeated the same routines relentlessly, regardless of whether it was just ‘today.’

“Didn’t you say you were going after a beast? Instead, you went to deal with boots, huh? Did you at least kill them?”

When he returned to the barracks, Rem confronted him, already knowing where he had gone.

Brushing the dirt from the seat of his trousers, Encrid responded.

“Killed three, actually. It was a productive day.”

“…Forget it.”

Knowing he would only lose, Rem decided not to start an argument.
He knew that when Encrid was serious, he had a way with words that no one could match.

After enduring another evening filled with Jaxson’s sharp killing intent, Encrid lay down on his bed.

He briefly wondered whether someone might try to kill him to trigger the loop again.
But no such event occurred, and he fell asleep without incident.

—

When he woke up the next morning and assessed the situation, Encrid muttered to himself:

‘It’s repeating.’

The same day again. Whether he slept through it or died—it made no difference.

And so, the day began once more.

Encrid found himself back at the crossroads, pacing before the paths.

Even though this loop spared him the pain of death, Encrid remained unwavering.

He gave his best effort, struggling just as fiercely as before.

Being trapped in this ‘today’ was the worst possible fate for him.

So, if he wanted to escape, he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Even without someone like the ferryman to spell it out for him.

‘The only way out is through.’

—

As the torches dimmed, the surroundings grew darker, the edges of his vision swallowed by shadows.

*Flick!*

Encrid struck the flint, lighting the torch once more. The glow illuminated the six passages in front of him.

‘In a situation like this, one of these six must be the real path.’

The simplest way would be to throw himself into each path one by one.

But instead of resorting to that, Encrid chose to hone the Gate of Sixth Sense.
And the training was beginning to show results.

‘Ominous.’

It was subtle, but something tugged at his survival instincts—a faint sensation of danger.

On this sixth repetition of today, he could finally feel it.

Encrid spent the rest of the day as before, returning to the shoemaker’s shop.

“What exactly are you doing all day?”

The shoemaker was baffled, and Encrid reused the excuse he had prepared earlier.

“I’m checking to see if there are any traps inside. Looks like the thieves’ guild might have set up a secret passage, so don’t go in.”

Though the thieves’ guild wasn’t the only one in the city, Encrid casually invoked their name, making it sound plausible.

The excuse seemed reasonable enough—the result of his pondering during the previous loops.

The shoemaker nodded.

“Got it.”

Back at the barracks, Encrid once again faced Jaxson’s sharp gaze and killing intent.
It was a nightly ritual—something he endured every evening.

Despite the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, Encrid didn’t sleep.

If sleeping caused the day to reset, what would happen if he stayed awake until morning?

Curious, he resolved to stay up through the night, waiting for the first light of dawn.

“Meow.”

Esther, the stray cat that lived with them, approached, lightly tapping his back with her paw.

She seemed to be complaining about him staying awake.

“Go on, get some sleep.”

Encrid stroked her head gently, and she curled up beside him, purring softly.

He continued waiting for dawn to break.

Encrid blinked briefly—just for a moment.

In that instant, he saw the black river.

“Meaningless.”

The ferryman wasn’t there, but his words echoed as if from a distant memory.

When Encrid opened his eyes again—

“What are you doing?”

His head felt heavy, and his body sluggish with exhaustion, but the day had reset once more.

‘What if I don’t blink at all?’

Would the day continue without interruption if he never blinked?

But how could anyone avoid blinking? Even knights couldn’t do that.

So, avoiding the repetition seemed impossible.

‘Live only for today, is that it?’

That was fine by him.

After all, he already knew how to move forward.

—

Encrid returned to the shoemaker’s shop, wearier than before, but determined to endure the day once again.

It wasn’t too difficult—after all, he’d fought and fled through worse nights in the past.

And so, today repeated.
Again and again.

Without the agony of death, it was almost peaceful.

But would that peace lull him into complacency, trapping him in this loop forever?

No. Encrid wouldn’t allow that.
He never changed. He remained relentless, determined to escape the endless loop.

Day after day, today kept repeating.

The 78th repetition.

After living through 78 identical days, Encrid returned to the barracks and evaded Jaxson’s killing intent.

He sidestepped to the side—two precise steps.
A feat only possible through precise awareness of the intent behind the attack.

Jaxson, surprised, released another surge of killing intent—this time concentrated and sharp, as if to say, *”If you step into this range, you die.”*

And once again, Encrid twisted his body, letting the killing intent flow past him.
It was a skill impossible to imitate without fully opening the Gate of Sixth Sense.

Not partially open—but thrown wide open.

“…What’s this?” Jaxson asked, stunned.

‘The efficiency of survival instinct is incredible,’ Encrid thought to himself.

But what he said aloud was different.

“It just worked all of a sudden.”

Of course, the truth lay in his inner thoughts.

The spell trap—nothing could have provided better training.

Encrid had chewed through that experience, absorbed every moment of it, and emerged stronger.

That was how he had finally opened the Gate of Sixth Sense.

And now, Jaxson stood there, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“Suddenly?”

This didn’t seem possible. But it had happened, right in front of him.

Though deeply perplexed, Jaxson kept his expression neutral, merely nodding.

What else could he do? It had happened.

He had been racking his brain, wondering how to provoke some progress in Encrid’s training.
Every method he’d considered had turned out to be unnecessary.

“Thanks to you,” Encrid said.

Hearing that, Jaxson couldn’t help but feel good—though he wouldn’t admit it.

Instead, he muttered inwardly, ‘What does any of this even mean?’

Still, despite himself, a brief smile flickered on his face before quickly fading.

It was a fleeting expression, but it spoke volumes.