Chapter 2: Gate

He discovered nothing.

[In the end, I couldn’t find anything at all...] His voice seemed dispirited.

[There’s only this bloody throne and this stupid door here, even the windows are useless since they’re tinted, argh!]

He could only strike the throne in anger, a booted kick at the regal chair. The immediate consequence came to which it led him hopping around the room while holding his sore foot.

A show of anger via violence, and on an inanimate object at that, was not a good idea apparently. His only gains from idiocy was pain that continued to hammer his swollen extremity.

[Ow ow ow...]

He grabbed his sore foot, and the boot he wore stuck to it like glue. He couldn't remove his confounded footwear, just as his clothes clung to him.

[My stupidity knows no bounds, apparently... shoepidity, heh.]

His play on words did not go unheeded, as he chortled in response. Even as pain radiated from his foot, his own pun made him laugh even if it was horribly made.

[Silly me.] The boy still snickered as he remembered his own joke. [That's enough of that, I think.]

After calming down, he focused on adapting other methods, yet they showed no new findings for him to extract.

[No dice...] He sounded upset over his lack of comprehension. His efforts yielded nothing to him. [Everything I think of just leads to brute forcing, dammit!]

Having spent a few hours on studying the door for clues, he gave up. There was no use in maintaining his attention towards a futile task, especially when there was nothing to be made from it.

To forgo his current burden in favor of a more fruitful endeavor, was something better that could be done.

[Guess there’s no other choice then, brute force it is...] He yielded on finding a new approach.

He approached the door once more, trying to see if there was anything he missed.

Alas, there was nothing else he could glean from the thing that had stumped him. If there were other approaches, he would have attempted them already.

The gate stood strong, its elaborate cipher still unsolved.

[I can vaguely remember something, hold on a minute...] He pried a vague memory from his mind. [It's on the tip of my tongue...]

The door of gold, with its intricate clockwork and labyrinthine complex was his to unravel.

As he remained seated by the structure's side, he impelled his intellect to reveal what it held. He would not let himself be stopped by the sophistry of his mind, as he found it to be obscuring certain knowledge from him.

And he succeeded, the tidings of his understanding as he found it to be. In the form of a reverie for him to see.

|||

November Cipher [Inheritance]:

A series of symbols, presented as an astrolabe diagram housing various symbols for a total of 26 characters. A dial-point stands at its axis, fixated at each of the engraved markings.

It is a simple substitution cipher, one modeled after the standard Latin Alphabet, though its apparent complexity obscures further information.

While the cipher contains a mere 26-character encrypted scheme, each symbol is said to shift its denotation with every misguided pass, elevating the number of attempts into figures reaching a 27-digit list of possibilities.

As such, it is safe to assume that the cipher is a polyalphabetic one, where each character deviates from its original identification via the introduction of a pseudo-random generator.

And of course, the curiosity of many have lead people to unravel this behemoth of a cipher. Though this numeral cipher has halted the strivings of most cryptographers due to its mosaic nature.

Historians have tried to interpret this fabled puzzle for countless centuries, as the cipher prohibitively contains a comprehensive amount of information that is nearly impossible to compress within a physical medium, though its creator had succeeded nonetheless.

And, after centuries worth of efforts, cryptographers have realized what it entails.

That the language of November is derived from this golden riddle, and that it continues to be in use as of today.

This cipher is a system of communication that has been discovered to be the predecessor of many languages around the world, a fact confirmed to be true after linguists have traced their source to it.

Though its origins are yet to be confirmed, its creator is largely acknowledged to be the [Storyteller]; an individual who disappeared not long after its immediate discovery.

---

Excerpt from; [Akashic Records - Archived]

[Modifiers]
+ It is one of the worldly gifts.

|||

[Ack...]

He was unwilling to this forceful interference of knowledge, for he did not know where it came from.

He lurched forward, sustaining himself by the door, as he clutched his head in pain.

[My head hurts...]

He succeeded in prying a particular mote of familiarity; the string of words appeared no more than in his mind, yet it appeared to be recognizable to him. It carried knowledge previously unknown, and his gains correlated with his current predicament.

Yet it did not seem to elaborate on anything else.

[No... vem... ber... cipher?] While the newfound knowledge carried new meanings, he could not see how it complimented what he currently knew. [I don't know how that's going to-]

Before he could reveal his distate, the boy's mind ached once more.

:::

+ November Cipher [Inheritance] can be acquired.

:::

[Agh...] The sensation invaded him, a preclude to what he wanted to say. His body fell to the floor, as he twitched and squirmed in agony. [Stop it... please...]

His misery lasted for a few seconds, clueless of what he did to deserve such pain. He simply wanted to decrypt the mysterious cipher, only to be met with torment that buried his thoughts. It hurt too much to think properly.

And though the pain faded with time, the damage had been done. He was as confused as one would think him to be; bewildered by the events that unfolded.

[I-Is it gone?] He feared the possibility of another surge, though his fears were unfounded. Nothing followed his battle of attrition. [What w-was that?]

His confusion was appropriated, brought with the unforeseen circumstances that he weathered through.

The brief spell of pain he experienced was abrupt and suddenly occured without prior notice.

It was understandable that he still held misgivings over his current condition. The boy didn't know whether it would reoccur to him.

[It's not happening again, so that's good...]

He reaffirmed his safety, as there did not seem to be an epilogue to his troubles. While the experience had shaken him for a bit, what he learnt took the entirety of his attention.

[Something popped up too...]

He brooded over the knowledge that he acquired. While their origins were still arguable to him, he didn't bother with their dubiousness as his insight of the puzzle expanded.

Over this strange 'November Cipher', he regaled his recent apprehension over the enigmatic puzzle.

[November Cipher... Astrolabe... Latin Alphabet... and Storyteller...]

He ruminated over the different concepts he had no knowledge of. Beyond the cipher, the words saw no meaning to him.

[These words are foreign to me, and yet they seem familiar somehow, hm.]

He speculated on their significance to him, pondering over what they meant.

His knowledge of basic concepts did not apply to these new words, as while he saw them to be familiar, they were foreign. His reaction for them were nothing more than a peculiar sensation; one that was irrational for him to presume.

The familiarity may be nothing more than a false alarm.

[As much as I'd like to find out what they mean, there's still this stupid door here.]

He delegated his efforts to be led towards the cipher.

[I need to solve this damn thing, anyhow.]

While his knowledge of the puzzle had become extensive, it only extended to the cipher's origins.

It did not yield any practical information regarding its decryption, which led to his current problem. He gained knowledge from the painful ordeal, only for it to be impractical.

In effect, he gained nothing valuable from it.

[I expected to get something out of that mess!]

He could only abide by his futile efforts, no matter the consequence. Though with than in mind, he still felt aggravated.

[Not like my screaming would do anything too, dammit.]

Aware that his dejection would do him no good, the boy focused on the task at hand. He only knew little about his circumstances. If he had an ounce of what his mind hid, then perhaps he wouldn't be in such trouble.

And in the end, he would need to interpret this complexity.

There was none to be done of his situation, and engaging with the cipher would be his only way out of this prison.

[Alright then, substitution first.]

He began the arduous task of decrypting the cipher. He expected it to be grueling labor, that he would remain here until the cipher was solved.

[Here's to hopeless endeavors.]

He began to solve the riddle of gold...

:::

[Inheritance]
+ Worldly Gifts
+ November Cipher (Acquired)

:::

... as a a strange situation came to unfold.

[Wait-] In his confusion, the boy stood still. Stilled by the blinding lights that haunted his eyes. [What's happening to... me?]

A world of emerald numbers, where symbols floated past. His vision flooded with numerical forms, countless integers that drowned his beryl sight.

The lines and shapes that conceived his visionary became digits, encompassing what he saw. His mind saw change, as it handled the burden with unease.

This was the realm of imaginary numbers, as he gazed upon it.

[What's... this?] The boy tottered back, as his mind fell with disbelief. He despaired at the frightening sight, with a world deluged in green. [My eyes?]

The boy displayed immediate fright at the strange new world he saw. His hands, the walls, and even the cipher, they became numbers for him to perceive.

Numbered sums, of shapes and lines, and colors once abundant, were now represented in green.

And while the boy sought to remove this visual dissonance, his mind took another burden.

To gaze, to look, and to behold, then solve the riddle of gold. The cipher's secrets did it withold, as the boy saw it all.

[I n-need help...] In his despair, he resorted to appeal for help, yet he was alone. No one would come to his aid. [Someone... anyone...]

The flood of beryl hues did not cease, as they spread upon his emerald sight. A tide of numbers, engulfing everything he saw. Other than the numeral influx, his thoughts manifested none but what his view allowed him to see.

[My head...] The boy's legs gave in, his brain trembling at the sight. [It hurts...]

That his mind spared no effort in the cipher's unravelling; that it would be resolved soon. He knew nothing of the matter, however.

For the November Cipher had already unravelled itself and he knew no such thing about its resolved form, lest he approach the door once more.

Unwittingly, the boy solved it by himself. His mind took action without his acknowledgement, as if it was a foreign entity. He was oblivious to the thoughtless changes his mind brought.

A fractured part of his fragile self, witholding secrets from him.

[It's... stopping?]

The cause of his distress began to dissipate, as the colors returned to their rightful hues. The pain he once felt, now fading with time.

[I don't know what's happening to me...]

He saw the world for what it once was; of typic nature and normalcy. The lines and shapes, a visual flicker of the material realm as they once appeared to him. His surroundings returned to their previous vivid state.

Everything returned to normal, so there was no cause for concern.

The same golden gate with its cardinal cipher, as a riddle that distinguished itself.

Yet something suggested that the puzzle before him had changed, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

[It seems different now...] He observed the engraved enigma, attentive of what saw change. Then he realized variance in its appearance. [Huh?]

Of the 26 written symbols, each had been rendered to its given form. The cipher was translated, now a fathomable set of engravings that stood out from the rest of the structure.

Supposedly, he accomplished what he set out to do. This was his goal, to translate the November Cipher.

But the boy thought differently. He didn't do anything.

[Did I... do this?] The revelation, though beneficial to him, did not incur his joy. He couldn't rejoice at this strange happenstance, where he did nothing. [How?]

And as for his bewilderment, the boy had already solved the puzzle. The cipher, which he presupposed to undertake within days, weeks, or months even, was unravelled.

By none other than him, he assumed. When he pleaded earlier, no one lent their aid to him. Only he could resolve his predicament.

His mind, of whom hid memories from him, was responsible in the cipher's undertaking. And he didn't know that.

[What the hell...] He fell to the floor, quivering in fear as one in alarm would do. [What the hell just happened to me?!]

The boundary’s cipher, which held information impossible for a normal mind to pry, was now rendered useless, as he glanced at its comprehensible form.

Its previous, obscure meanings were now gone, replaced by legibility coherent to him. He understood the symbols it beheld.

A feat that he only attempted as an assessment to probe the immovable cipher, something which was impossible for a normal person to perform, had been done in by the frightened youth.

It terrified him.

[I’ll just solve this...]

The realization seemed to have a taken a toll on himself, as he steered his thoughts elsewhere. He found it better to fixate himself on prying the cipher's tidings.

[It’ll be alright...]

The symbols on the dial structured themselves into what came across as a few sentences. With the symbols now translated by the information that riddled his thoughts, he worked on the ones on the dial.

He still shivered from the strain that made him wither, though he knew better than to reject what he learnt.

After a couple of seconds, the dial’s cipher revealed its hidden message. He understood what the words meant to convey. It was a poem.

{|}

Fallen King:

Alas, while weeping angels dance.
And forlorn ravens sing.
Continuing this soulless prance,
thus sleeps our fallen king.

{|}

He recited the poem in a monotonous tone, his words being what appeared to be synthesized.

From a pitiful beggining to its forlorn end, he maintained the lifeless manner of speech, uttering the words with the merest amount of effort he required.

And then, with a mundane pause, he finished.

[It's done...]

As he awaited change, the door’s intricacies moved, stirred by the poem he narrated. Gears, springs, and other mechanisms actuated themselves. Pistons and pillars constructed of tempered steel, as they shed from the immaculate construction.

The manner in which they wove through reminded him of a timepiece, impeccably made and done.

Until, the door opened.

A large hall lay before him whose end was not visible, foreboding in its appearance. The boy stood there, still perturbed by the previous events.

[The door stood guard to keep someone in...]

The throne room's construction provided implications that it served a terrifying purpose, and he found out that it functioned as a prison of sorts. The arrangement of everything within closed doors, it held someone in.

[... It never was to lock people out]

His hesitation, though brief, was enough to unnerve him aside. He was unaware of what could transpire outside the bleakness of the throne room he found himself in.

He could remain where he once roused from, by the throne of goldeen filigrees and then of velvet cloth.

Perhaps staying there would be the best choice for him.

[What happened to me back then...] His mind ran afoul of the previous events, as he knew nothing of what it did. [Someone tell me please...]

Faced with psychological strife, he stood by the open gate. It lay before the tormented youth, a gaping maw that represented a choice for him to make.

He could stay here, therefore keeping himself safe from unknown threats. It would be the most secure option he could align with, though he wouldn't be able to sustain himself as there were needs to be met; mainly of social necessity and biological demands.

He yearned to speak with someone, and his body might not hold from hunger.

He knew little about his physique, what with the black box that caged him in, and the strange sensation of tendrils that seemed to grasp his mind.

He found no clues regarding thirst and starvation, as his body did not exhibit any need to sate itself at the moment, so perhaps he could stave it for some time.

His second choice, one of braving the unknown, further frightened him. From this room alone, he endured mental anguish that pried deep into his mind. It held memories not favorable to him, as the experience was enough to inflict dread upon the boy.

He wanted to leave this place.

[I’ll be alright...] The boy tried to comfort himself, sounding unconvinced by his own words. [Everything will be okay...]

With steps that faltered, he made passage of the gate as it held ajar by his efforts, though he wasn't if it was true; that he was responsible for its denouement.

Nothing stopped him from approaching the door, as the cipher no longer hindered him from doing so. He was free to do as he wished, and he chose to move away.

To leave, towards the terrifying unknown.

[You are a lapdog of reality...] He muttered while shuffling down the hallway. It compelled him to ask a single question. [Why?]

And he may ask himself again, though it would yield nothing in return. He truly knew nothing at all, nothing.

Of his identity that continued to elude him, of the emerald world where numbers fell, and how everything tied itself to him.

He was as clueless as when he roused from his regal seat of gold, unaware of what fate set out for himself.

[Who... am I?] As he went deeper still, the words came out. [Who am I...]