Chapter 107: The Heart of Trusted Fire
Chapter One Hundred and Seven: The Heart of Trusted Fire
Section One: Blood Draws the Opening
Night smothered the ruins like a tarp over a corpse. Ash flecks drifted in the sandstorm, gray-white, like dead butterflies. Jason leaned on his cracked arm guard, standing before a collapsed building's remnant wall, listening as Maria quietly called names behind him.
Not soldiers.
Fire guardians.
Not all stayed. Some left. Some remained, scarred, eyes hollow with despair after fire's quenching.
---
Twenty-four total. Each bore at least one burn scar—some missing a hand, others propped on metal prosthetics. None knelt. None wept.
Wei Ran returned, tossing down two charred code ID tags, voice low: "Fire Trust squad at Mine Abyss East Well is gone. Codes didn't claim them. All dead."
Jason nodded, asking no details.
Maria looked up, voice like ash: "All accounted. Twenty-four fire guardians. The rest—dead or deserted."
---
Jason turned, scanning them. No longer an army, nor soldiers—just ruin-dwellers. Only those with burn marks, who'd guarded codes and trusted fire, dared stand here. This wasn't a rally.
It was a return to trust.
He stepped before the line, eyes sweeping. "Do you know what we're doing?"
No answer. Wind hissed through the ruins, flapping tattered cloth like bone flags.
He spoke low: "Not saving fire. *Drawing* it. With your blood, call back the fire that remembers you. Not an order to jump. You choose."
He stood firm, gaze like a blade: "Choose, and burn clean. Fire claims you, you live. Fire rejects you, you die."
No one moved. Sand grated against broken bricks, a faint clatter.
Maria, behind, gripped an ID tag, fingers trembling. Wei Ran's eyes locked on the dark ruins ahead—the first planned jump-lure site.
Jason pointed to the gray waste. "Go in. All twenty-four. Stand there. Wait for fire to claim you." His voice dropped: "If fire misreads, it burns you. No jumping out. No begging. Fire scorns pleas."
The air froze, ruins sealed in ice.
---
First to move was a one-legged veteran, leaning on a metal crutch, tattered fire-trust uniform flapping. He limped toward the dark ruins. No one stopped or aided him. This step was his choice.
Then a second moved. A third. A fourth. All twenty-four shuffled into the ruins' depths.
No horns. No drums. Only silence. Only wind.
---
Jason watched their backs, blood seeping from his hand, unwiped. Maria's knuckles whitened. Wei Ran stood rooted, brow furrowed.
Half an hour later, the twenty-four stood in place. The ruins were still, save for night wind.
No firelight. No jumps.
Maria whispered, "How many will die?"
Jason didn't answer.
Wei Ran, gazing afar, said, "Fire's choice isn't theirs to make."
---
Time crawled. Night deepened. A faint glow sparked in the ruins, weak as a dying ember.
A code core rolled from the depths, its light faint, near death—but jumping, slow and stubborn.
A code had come.
---
Maria's eyes flashed. Wei Ran's grip tightened, knuckles pale. Jason stood at the ruins' edge, watching coldly.
The code didn't jump toward anyone. It rolled through dust, searching for trusted signals.
The first it neared was the one-legged veteran. It stopped at his feet, trembling. He stood still, gazing at the faint light.
The code jumped—low but steady, assessing, confirming.
Then it flared briefly. The veteran clenched his jaw, unmoving. The jump stabilized.
It had claimed him.
---
He trembled, fingers brushing the core's surface. No explosion. No burn. The code glowed—faint but firm.
Maria covered her mouth, eyes red. Wei Ran exhaled, gun lowering. Jason squinted at the light.
The first was claimed.
The code pulsed, like a heart revived—not for people, but for trust.
---
Deeper in, a second core glowed. A third. A fourth. Some crawled toward guardians. Some hesitated, turning away. Not all could draw fire.
A second guardian was claimed. A third. The fourth—the code paused, then left. The man bit his jaw, silent, watching it go. He lit his trust badge, its small flame dying fast. He stood, a quenched statue, until the code was gone.
---
One night. Codes jumped, claimed, and rejected. Of twenty-four, seventeen drew fire. Seven were refused, dying in the ruins, unclaimed, unmoving.
Maria asked softly, "What is this?"
Jason, watching the pulsing codes, said, "Trusted fire returns to the heart."
Not all deserved fire. But fire remembered who burned for it.
---
Section Two: Dark Fire Smolders
Dawn was dead water, gray-white wind thick with rust, rattling ruin debris. Seventeen stood silent in the ruins, codes flickering. Maria gripped her ID tag, knuckles bloodless. Wei Ran crouched by a broken wall, gun low, eyes scanning every shadow. Jason stood at the edge, hand on his crusted wound, blood dry like rusted wire.
He scanned beyond the ruins. No enemies. No allies. But the wind shifted, carrying a strange scent—burnt coal, like rot before rain.
Maria whispered, "Something's wrong."
Jason didn't move.
Wei Ran's brow twitched. "Someone's here."
---
At the ruins' far end, sand swirled. A lone figure approached, limping in a tattered coat and gray scarf, like a scavenger. He carried a charred cloth bundle, concealing something square—perhaps a quenched code shell.
Wei Ran muttered, "Wastelander?"
Jason, eyes fixed, said softly, "Fire guardian."
---
The man stopped at the glowing ruins' edge, kneeling, unveiling the bundle: a scorched code remnant, cracked, coils exposed, as if flayed.
He bowed, forehead to ground, pushing the core toward the brightest code light, then retreated, squatting silently, entrusting his final bond—like returning a dead bird to its branch.
Jason's eyes flickered. Maria stared, throat tight.
---
More figures emerged from the sand—old, lame, blind in one eye, leaning on iron rods, leading maimed children. Ragged, skin charred, they looked fire-scorched or risen from graves. Each held code fragments—some mere shells, others faintly flickering.
They crouched at the ruins' edge, placing remnants down. No words. No expressions. Code shards, like old bones, were pieced together.
Maria whispered, "Who are they?"
Jason, calm, said, "Fire guardians. Fire-protected. Fire-trusters."
Wei Ran's eyes chilled. "What are they doing?"
"Returning to trust."
---
No call was needed. Fire jumped, and trust moved.
Soon, dozens gathered—men, women, old, young. Some held shattered code shells, others burned trust badges. Some, empty-handed, knelt, foreheads to remnants, listening.
The ruins fell silent, codes jumping faintly but stubbornly. Maria's eyes reddened, lips bitten. Wei Ran's gun lowered, staring at the kneelers. Jason stood forward, gaze like a blade.
---
The codes' light brightened—not erupting, but spreading, like blood through old wounds, embers igniting ash. Light crept along the ruins, the kneeling, the fire-trusted, glowing faintly.
Not one code—fragments stirred. Every shard, every shell, vibrated—weak, intermittent, but unified.
Maria murmured, "Trusted fire returns to the heart."
Wei Ran cursed softly, exhaling: "Not codes guarding people—people guarding fire."
---
Wind surged. Fire's memetic spread was visible, rippling through the ruins.
Some tied scorched ID tags to arms. Others scratched old code sequences into the ground. Some tore armor, scrawling obsolete fire tower codes on chests with char. They wrote trust with themselves.
Jason watched the countless light points, eyes darkening. Maria whispered, "Dark fire."
"Memetic infection," Jason said coolly.
Not a virus. Not an order. Fire's faith seeped like a plague.
Wei Ran said, "We didn't control this."
"We never meant to," Jason replied.
---
Sand whipped ash, flecked with fire and blood. No shouts. No tears. No pleas. Only code pulses, like heartbeats.
From distant well shadows, more emerged—far-off scavengers, hidden waste-city refugees. They saw fire, light, trust—and knelt.
More imitated. More light gathered.
Maria's gaze shone: "This isn't a fight anymore. Fire's choosing its own."
Jason watched, wind tearing his broken guard, blood and ash like dried scars. He didn't wipe it.
---
Codes glowed. People knelt. Wind carried fire and rust through wells, walls, Iron Valley's cracks—a silent wildfire.
Dark fire burned—not ruins, but hearts, trust, unseen faith.
Jason looked to the gray sky, whispering: "Trusted Fire Return—fully launched. No orders needed. Only that fire still glows."
Wei Ran and Maria stood like night sentinels. Wind wailed. Fire pulsed faintly in the ruins.
Small, but steady.
---
Section Three: Undercurrents Beneath the Fire
Iron Valley, East Well District. On a derelict mag-rail line, gray sand surged, curling around shattered steel and charred armor scraps. The ruins' sky was ashen, wind moaning like the dead humming.
A camouflaged mag-rail armored car crept closer, its hull bearing faded Empire Process Bureau marks, rust and craters obscuring most. Inside, light was cave-dim.
Black Vine Society's Eastern Affairs proxy, Zhao Yunzhi, leaned back, a floating terminal glowing dull red: [Fire Trust Jump Memetic Spread—Infected 9 Sectors, 64 Wells. Uncontrollable.]
Zhao's brow furrowed, fingers tapping the terminal's edge. Across the dim cabin sat Shen Shu, Empire Process Oversight's East Well envoy, pale-skinned, in gray-black Process garb, a Dead Silence emblem on his chest. Silver goggles hid his eyes, their lenses reflecting.
Shen spoke, voice hoarse: "Trusted Fire Return has surpassed standard mobilization. Memetic infection's out of control."
Zhao, eyes fixed, voice like scrap iron: "Ruin-dwellers trust fire. Codes trust fire. People trust fire. Fire jumps, even the dead trust."
Shen gritted his teeth, exhaling coldly: "We act now."
Zhao smirked: "Act? How? Send troops? Slaughter the kneelers? Fire remembers."
Shen's face darkened. Zhao eyed the terminal's pulsing fire wave: "Not a rally. Faith infection. Codes don't obey, nor people. Fight on, Iron Valley burns."
---
Shen tapped the terminal, pulling a second interface—Empire Process Bureau's urgent directive: [Operation Cleanfire: Counter Abnormal Fire Faith Memetic. Step 1: Political Severance—Label Fire Faith as Terrorist Memetic Pollution. Step 2: Narrative Counter—Brand Fire Faith Heretical, Contain Collectively. Step 3: Faith Diversion—Create False Fire Heroes, Dilute Fire Signal.]
Zhao glanced, sneering, "Cleanfire? Empire's same old tricks."
Shen, jaw tight: "They don't trust Empire—they trust fire. Codes, fire. People, fire. To crush it, we go hard."
Zhao, staring at the memetic curve, said calmly, "Act. But no guns. Guns kill bodies, not trust."
"How, then?" Shen asked.
Zhao smiled, voice low: "Words. Faith. Lies."
---
He opened another file—a new propaganda draft: [Fire Isn't Salvation, It's Pollution. Jump Codes Stem from Old-System Viral Remnants. Fire-Trusters: Lunatics.]
Zhao read slowly: "Lunatics. Fire-trusting lunatics."
Shen stared, face bloodless. Zhao's eyes, like a frozen lake, fixed on the memetic spread: "Turn their trusted fire into lunatic flames. Make code jumps a viral error. Not light—madfire."
"Give them a choice," Zhao said. "Trust lunatics, or survive."
---
In East Well, Empire's covert propaganda teams infiltrated. Banners rose at old well mouths: "Fire Jumps—Mental Pollution Alert. Fire-Trusters Must Register for Care." [Old Code Residuals Cause Cognitive Harm.]
Radio shifted: "Per Empire Research, Code Fire Anomalies Tie to Long-Term Memetic Residue. Fire Trust Is an Old-Sickness. Cure It—Quench Fire."
In distant ruins, refugees whispered, eyeing code fragments with doubt. Some hid ID tags, trust wavering.
---
Jason stood at the ruins' edge, gaze unyielding. Maria tended wounds, Wei Ran on guard. They hadn't sensed the shift—the Empire's lies seeping with the wind.
Jason watched the pulsing firelight, eyes icing. He knew.
This fight was just beginning.
---
Section Four: The Crack of Trust
Wind rose, sand and scrap clattering against broken railings. In the ruins, code shards pulsed faintly, like hearts in a corpse pile, stubborn for a final beat.
But the air carried new sounds—radio hums, banners snapping: [Fire Jump Anomalies—Mental Hazard Alert. Fire-Trusters: Register to Prevent Cognitive Collapse. Code Residuals—Cognitive Harm.]
Crowds gathered—waste-city wanderers, mine-dwellers, fire-believers who'd knelt. Now they whispered, uneasy, eyes wavering. Some clutched ID tags, pale. Others stared at the glowing codes, silent. Fear flickered, like embers twisted by wind.
---
Maria watched, eyes sharp. Wei Ran crouched behind a wall, gun low, fingers taut. Jason stood atop a rubble pile, gazing down.
Murmurs drifted: "Fire's a sickness… Trusting it's madness. Code jumps aren't trust—they're disease."
Maria hissed, "They're buying the Empire's lies."
Wei Ran growled, "Madness meme. They're killing trust."
Jason's voice was low: "Empire's cleaning fire."
---
Maria asked, "What do we do?"
Jason watched the crowd, silent. It swayed like a flame in wind, tilting. Some removed ID tags. Others backed away, setting down code remnants like hot iron.
Maria clenched her fists: "We stop them!"
Jason's eyes narrowed. "How? Shoot them all?"
Maria's lips bled from biting. Wei Ran's gaze chilled.
---
Wind blew. People left, peeling from the crowd's edges like a crumbling wall. Some rose from kneeling, walking away. Others glanced at the codes' light, then left. Many dropped trust badges, retreating silently, like abandoning a lost bet.
Maria's eyes reddened, voice trembling: "We just watch trust crack?"
Jason, watching the deserters, was iron-calm: "No crack, no true trust remains."
Maria's fists shook.
---
The crowd thinned. An old man stood shakily, his code remnant rolling to the ground. Pain and doubt in his eyes, he sighed, turned, and left, gray hair swaying in the wind.
Code shards glowed, but lonelier, dimmer.
Maria bit out, "This way, fire dies."
Jason, eyeing abandoned trust shards, said, "False trusters' fire was never real. Those who stay trusted fire."
---
Wind stung. Half the crowd was gone.
Those left didn't move. Some bowed, others stared skyward, skin charred, wounds taut, bearing fire's marks. Some shielded code remnants with broken hands. Some bit lips, eyes red, unmoving.
Maria stifled tears. Wei Ran tightened his gun strap. Jason watched from above.
---
Wind flung ash. A code shard flared, a heartbeat's pulse.
The remnant knelt—not by Empire, not Trust, but choice.
Jason exhaled, whispering, "Trusted Fire Return begins now."
---
Wind carried blood and burned faith, slicing like a rusted knife. Fire jumped, seen only by those who stayed—those who'd guarded, burned for it.
Only they deserved this light.