003 The Code

The shouting is so penetrating that it makes Meph’s ears buzz.

Who sent you? The next trial is on, yet Meph has barely gathered any useful information, or even understood how he passed the first one. The temperature didn’t drop, because “Alice found”? Is this the truth of the high death rate of the Soul Trial? It kills without giving a fair chance?

It can’t be. If there is one thing the Soul Trial is known for, it’s fair.

The Soul Trial is created by magic. When World War Three destroyed the world, The Archangel Gabriel, along with ten angels at his disposal, sailed Noah's Ark down to the human realm. In the last corner where humanity clung to existence, they established a protective barrier and named it Eden. The Ark itself is the field of the Soul Trial. The Trial operates without human control, without emotion, without error. It is pure magic.

It is the most unshakable rule in the world. It’s granted by God.

There must be a solution, no matter how clueless a puzzle.

Think! Meph, think!

In the buzz of the flat voice left and the shrill shouting of the rabbit, Meph closes his eyes with his freezing palms over his ears. The loud noise is giving him a severe headache, but just with a deep breath, he manages to shut out all the pain and distraction and focus on his train of thoughts.

His alexithymia has never come in handy so perfectly.

So, he was thrown down the rabbit hole, the entrance of Wonderland, just like Alice. The bottom of this rabbit hole is a locked room, and according to the rabbit, Alice had the key. Now, Alice is still in the room, somewhere invisible to Meph’s eyes, and the White Rabbit, herald of the Red Queen, is demanding answers by the door.

His trial are questions, and his ability is manipulating the temperature--

The temperature dropped when he showed up, and each time Meph ignores his questions or answers wrongly, it drops again. It would only be worse if he breaks in.

Problem-based trials are the simplest type, because the trial must provide sufficient information, and the answer must be derivable from this established information.

What information was given, so far?

The setting of the room indicated the theme of the trial -- the raven desk, the cake and potion with the cards of “eat me” and “drink me”.

What about the posters? They are part of the settings, but they didn’t indicate “Alice” or anything else related to this fairy tale in anyway. If there is any information unused in this room, it’s them!

Meph shoot his eyes open, dashing toward the wanted posters on the wall.

They are different images of the same girl. Blue laced dress. Cute little red hoodie. It could easily be the little red riding hood, and one can only know that she is Alice after the information of the trial’s name was given. So now, knowing it’s Alice, what do the posters say?

WANTED. WANTED. WANTED.

All the posters are different periods of Alice, wearing the same dress, different hats, and in all kinds of positions. One even with only a leg taking up the whole picture. Expanded, maybe?

But only one stands out.

The only one with two figures in it. Alice, and the Red Queen. With the latter putting a golden key, embellished with intricate embossed designs, on Alice’s neck.

“Who sent you?!” The rabbit at the door burst into a shout and the temperature drops again! “Who sent you for Alice?! Who sent you for the key?!”

The second round of question, with information! The info is who wants the key, and the answer…

The Red Queen!

Without even thinking, Meph charges up to the door. The moment he touches the lock, pain penetrates the tip of his fingers — it’s icy cold! All senses would turn into the signal of pain when it reaches an extreme level. It hurts so much that Meph could barely hold the little golden lock between his fingers, let alone twisting the little gears.

But that’s not all.

A shadow splits from the utter darkness at the slightest wave of light and crawls onto Meph’s wrist in a utter surreal way when he touches the lock. No movement of any light in the little room could cause this shadow. And it won’t appear, unless his fingers touch the lock. And the moment it crawls onto Meph’s wrist, it shakes off the shackles of light and tangles itself around his wrist, a tiny snake head forms into shape as it bites its own tail.

Staring at the slim, pitch-black shadow on his wrist, Meph is struggling between opening the lock and dodging this mysterious, weightless, harmless-looking shadow.

The door shakes even more now, almost falling off its hinges. Every second the rabbit would break in. The rabbit looks feeble even before he turned into the skeleton he is, yet those hands are showing incomprehensible power on the door that was stuck sturdy before.

Concept deity.

That’s the only explanation. And the worst type of game.

It means that they run on rules, not strength. If the rule is, the rabbit kills the person who answers wrong, then he would be able to kill no matter how powerful the player is, so long as they answer wrong.

It was already hinted, by the drop of temperature. That kind of change on temperature is not realistic, but a change on the rule itself!

Meph has no intention to test the frantic power of the rabbit with his flesh. Gritting his teeth, Meph forces his fingers back on the work, ignoring the omen shadow around his wrist.

U. E. E…

“Ahh!” Meph burst into a painful shout before he could turn the last gear —

The shadow on his wrist burst into a glow, burning as if some invisible hot iron suddenly clenched around his wrist, so tight with the sole goal of snapping it clean off!