Chapter 108: The Oath of Trust
Chapter One Hundred and Eight: The Oath of Trust
From today, there's only one chapter a day.,Wrote so many chapters.,And I didn't sign a contract.,I don't know if this book doesn't work.,So there's no motivation to update.,I'm sorry everyone.,First do a daily update to deal with it.
Section One: Fire's Rift Ignites
Ash and sand lingered, the ruins pressing the sky low and dark. Code fragments pulsed on rubble heaps, their light faint, like dying embers. The crowd around them had dwindled to thirty-seven—stripped from thousands of fire guardians to these blood-and-bone remnants. They knelt by the ruins, clutching code shards, heads bowed, silent. Wind tugged their tattered clothes, rattling scorched armor.
Maria stood behind a broken wall, fingers bloodless. Wei Ran crouched nearby, eyes locked on distant movement. Jason sat atop a steel beam, hand braced on his cracked arm guard, gaze deep as a dry well. The wind carried a chill, like frost seeping from long-dead bones.
Beyond the ruins, more gathered—not kneeling, but watching. Wrapped in rags, heads bound in gray cloth, they gripped rusted batons or broken rifles, standing, staring, neither approaching nor advancing.
Maria whispered, "Who are they?"
Wei Ran sneered, "Iron Valley wastelanders. Non-believers in fire. Believers in Empire broadcasts."
Jason watched, unmoving.
---
A wastelander raised a metal megaphone, shouting toward the ruins: "Fire-trusters are lunatics! Fire's an old virus! Follow fire, go mad! Empire has medicine—cures fire-sickness!"
No response. Code fragments pulsed faintly. The thirty-seven knelt like stones, still, as if dead—or long resigned.
Maria's eyes reddened, teeth clenched. Wei Ran's fingers tightened on his gun, but he held. Jason shut his eyes, pressing down some inner surge.
Another shout: "ID tags spread infection! Wear them, you're mad! Kill the lunatics, Iron Valley's clean!"
The crowd stirred. Some picked stones. Others gripped rusted guns, eyes burning with hate.
Maria drew her blade, glaring. Wei Ran's gun rose, targeting the agitators. Jason stood slowly, hand on the charred beam, gaze like a blade: "Not time to act."
Maria hissed, "If we don't, they'll charge."
Jason, eyes on the kneeling thirty-seven, said, "Act, and they scatter."
Wei Ran muttered, "Then what?"
Jason looked to the horizon, sky gray like rotted cloth. "Swear."
Maria froze. Wei Ran squinted, silent.
---
Jason descended, boots crunching rubble. He faced the thirty-seven, scanning each. Ragged, skin charred, eyes like dead water—but listening.
He spoke, low and calm: "Fire-trusters, kneel. Non-believers, stand and leave."
Wind howled. None moved.
He nodded. "If you stay, swear."
He drew his blade, slicing his palm. Blood dripped onto a code shard. Its light flared faintly, as if recognizing.
Maria's eyes sparked. Wei Ran's gaze fixed on the blood.
Jason raised the blade, pointing at the shard: "Trust fire, cut your hand. Blood is trust. Kneelers choose. Non-kneelers leave."
The thirty-seven were silent. Some looked up, some clenched jaws, some trembled.
---
First to move was a boy, one eye blind, in a scorched miner's suit, hand scarred with burn blisters. He stood, drew a rusted dagger, and slashed his palm. Blood splashed near the shard. Biting his jaw, he knelt, blood seeping into ash.
Next, a lame woman, face burned, hands shaking, cut her palm. Blood mixed with rubble, merging with the code's pulsing light.
Third, fourth, fifth—each of the thirty-seven cut, bled, and knelt. Blood fell on bricks, shards, ruins. The firelight brightened, pulsing faster.
Maria watched, eyes burning. Wei Ran cursed softly, knuckles white. Jason stood by the blood pool, staring at the kneelers.
---
Thirty-seven knelt, blood staining the ground. No slogans. No vows. Only blood, fire, and pulsing trust.
The wastelander crowd stilled. Some dropped stones. Others lowered heads, retreating. The wind whipped banners: [Fire Faith Is Pollution. Fire-Trusters Are Lunatics.]
No one shouted.
Maria asked softly, "Enough?"
Jason, eyeing the blood-soaked shard, said, "Enough."
Wei Ran aimed at the crowd's front, but didn't fire.
The wastelanders dispersed—not fleeing, but ebbing, silent as a receding tide.
Code shards pulsed steadily. Fire endured. Trust endured.
But the cost was blood.
Jason stepped into the pool, staring at the dark red. "From now on, Fire Trust Seat demands oaths—blood oaths. No blood, no guarding. No guarding, no jumping."
Maria's fingers tensed. Wei Ran bit his jaw, silent.
---
Iron Valley's night deepened. Fire pulsed in the ruins—not burning, but trust in blood.
---
Section Two: Blood Oath's Undercurrent
Night thickened, wind colder. Gray clouds pressed like an iron lid, stifling. Code shards pulsed erratically, like a dying elder's breath. Blood congealed beside them, dark red, thick with a rancid tang. The thirty-seven knelt, hands bleeding, heads bowed to the earth.
Maria stood at the ruins' edge, eyes red, staring at them. Wei Ran crouched by a wall, gun low, fingers taut. Jason leaned on a beam, gripping his scorched arm guard, bloodied blade in hand.
All seemed frozen.
---
Beyond the ruins, shadows slunk through distant streets—not wastelanders, but armed figures, chest plates marked with Black Vine's gray sigils. They didn't mass, but prowled like wolves, sniffing for weakness.
Farther off, faint lights blinked—a makeshift broadcast tower, its frequency stuttering like a drowning gasp. It droned: [Fire Faith Is Old Memetic Frenzy. Fire-Trusters Are Ruin's Lunatics. Follow Codes, Follow Fire, Never Leave the Waste.]
The voice was hoarse, like a rusted saw on dry wood.
Maria's gaze chilled. "They won't come head-on."
Jason, still, said, "Empire won't let us win clean."
Wei Ran growled, "Black Vine's doing Empire's dirty work—stabbing trust, not bodies."
Jason nodded, voice like sand: "Fire Trust swore blood. They want the oath to crack itself."
Maria eyed the kneelers. Thirty-seven, flesh and blood—not steel. They'd burned, guarded, knelt, bled.
But they feared death. They wavered. They could betray.
Empire and Black Vine needed no guns—just one to stand, to break.
Wei Ran asked, "How do we stop it?"
Jason squinted at the broadcast tower, sand blurring his view. "We don't."
Maria blinked. Wei Ran frowned.
"Unstoppable," Jason said softly. "Fire Trust burns deep. If it doesn't, burn it clean now."
Maria's lips paled.
---
Black Vine's scouts moved, infiltrating subtly, like ants gnawing blood's seams. Figures in wastelander rags, faces veiled, feigned exhaustion, and slipped among the kneelers.
Wei Ran hissed, "Infiltrators."
Jason nodded. "Don't spook them."
Maria glared, fingers white on her blade.
---
A middle-aged kneeler looked up, knees red, blood dried. His eyes held doubt, fear—cracks. Another shifted, nearly standing, as an infiltrator whispered in his ear. The kneeler's hand shook.
Maria's hand gripped her blade. Wei Ran's gun rose, restrained. Jason watched, stone-like.
The middle-aged man braced to stand. A fellow kneeler pulled him down, whispering. He hesitated, stared at the blood, then the gray sky, and sank back, fingers clawing earth.
Maria's eyes burned, tears held back. Wei Ran cursed, gripping his gun.
Another kneeler wavered, then sat. Footsteps faded. Black Vine's scouts retreated, ants sensing a guarded nest.
Jason eyed the broadcast tower. "Trust Fire isn't numbers. It's fewer betrayers."
Maria trembled, "This is burning clean?"
Jason nodded. "No falseness in fire."
---
Wei Ran stared at the kneelers, blood dry, fire pulsing. The broadcast droned, wastelanders dispersed, and Iron Valley smoldered like a dying furnace.
But its core glowed, pulsing, burning.
Dark fire sank—not quenched, but hidden, gathering.
Jason turned. "Next plan."
Maria bit out, "What plan?"
Jason descended, voice like ice: "Fire Trust returns to heart. Dark fire seeps to bone. Fierce light waits. Now, we tear."
---
Section Three: The Cleanfire Gambit
Night was an iron lid, sand swirling through ruins, walls peeling, bones exposed. At the ruins' heart, thirty-seven knelt, code shards pulsing slowly, stubbornly. Blood crusted on bricks, air thick with rot and iron. Tattered trust badges spun in the wind, like broken knots.
Jason stood by a broken wall, hand on his scorched arm guard, gaze unyielding. Maria tended wounds, Wei Ran on watch, gun low, intent sharp. The thirty-seven were still—monoliths, bones.
But Jason knew bones cracked. Monoliths fell. Firelight hid fear, doubt, betrayal.
Maria looked up. "More purging?"
Jason nodded, voice like night wind: "Cleanfire. Unclean, no return."
Wei Ran asked, "How?"
---
Jason walked to the ruins' center, steps crunching. The thirty-seven looked up, eyes on him—blood, hate, silence.
He stood, voice calm as a stone sinking: "Codes don't misread people. Fire doesn't misread trust. But people do."
He tossed a code ID shard to the ground, its clink sharp. Fire pulsed, flinching like a stabbed heart.
"Fire-trusters, kneel," he said. "Non-believers, stand. Kneelers' trust lives. Standers' trust dies—killed."
Maria gripped her blade, knuckles white. Wei Ran's gun aimed at the crowd's heart.
No one moved. Wind stung like needles.
---
First to stir was a middle-aged man, leg bound in cracked armor, face scarred. His hand shook, half-standing, then kneeling again.
A young woman, neck wrapped in charred cloth, bit her jaw, hands clawing ash, blood dripping.
Third, fourth—none stood.
Jason watched, eyes like a blade at a throat. "Fire Trust isn't persuaded. It's burned in."
He handed his spare blade to the woman. She took it, trembling, and slashed her palm. Blood hit the shard, fire pulsing, accepting.
He moved to the next. Blade, blood, pulse—one by one, they bled, fire answering.
Cleanfire wasn't steel—it was blood, a knife through old flesh.
---
The last cut done, the shard's light flared, like a dying torch catching new breath. Jason scanned them. "This is fire—yours, not mine. Betray, fire remembers. Bleed, fire remembers."
Maria asked, "You trust fire remembers?"
Jason, eyeing the pulsing light, said, "If not fire, blood remembers."
Wei Ran's gun lowered, gaze like a buried blade.
---
Beyond, Black Vine stirred, erecting frames—not fire towers, but fake jump devices mimicking code pulses to trick trusters, splintering faith.
Maria hissed, "They'll fake fire to fool trust."
Jason sneered, "Fake fire—aren't they afraid it'll burn them?"
Wei Ran growled, "Not fake fire—unsteady trust."
---
Wind chilled. The fake device glowed, mimicking a heartbeat. Maria asked, "Act?"
Jason, eyeing the false light, said, "Draw them out."
Wei Ran activated a wrist-jammer. Maria readied her blade. Jason faced the thirty-seven: "True fire burns flesh. Fake fire burns hearts."
He tossed a jammer, rolling to the fake device's node. It sparked, then died. Code shards pulsed, unfooled.
Black Vine scouts reacted, retreating. Maria's blade nailed one's chest. Wei Ran's shot exploded another's head.
The ruins dimmed. True fire pulsed, steady, unbetrayed.
Trust Fire held.
---
Jason exhaled, staring at the bloodied shards. Fire glowed brighter. Wind buried corpses, not light.
Trust Fire was clean, but cracks lingered.
"Trust Fire Return lives," he said. "Now, the damned die."
---
Section Four: Blood-Oath Alliance
Night crushed the ruins like breaking bones. Wind whipped code shards, their light pulsing like a throttled heart. Thirty-seven knelt, blood crusted on hands, faces, backs—ancient inscriptions carved in blood.
Black Vine's dead scouts were gone, only bloodstains remaining, blackening in sand. The broadcast tower's signal was cut, night hollow as an emptied chest. But Jason knew—this was the first wave.
The real assault loomed.
---
In the ruins' makeshift Seat zone, a wind-blocking frame of wire and tarp stood like a gray war banner. Dozens of mid-tier Trust officers sat, armor charred, wounds bandaged. Code guards patrolled, guns low, faces cold. Maria and Wei Ran flanked Jason, scanning the zone.
Jason stood central, hands clasped, armor cracked. "Trust Fire Return lives," he said, voice low as buried iron. "But it's cracked—not fire, but trust. Fire jumps, but trust splits. Split, we die."
No one spoke. Wind snapped the tarp.
He held a thin, yellowed file, its sharp text reading: [Fire Trust Death Oath].
The zone stilled, breathless. Some gasped, some frowned, most sat silent, fear suppressed.
"From today," Jason said, "Fire-trusters swear—not words, but blood."
He paused, colder: "Swear, bleed, stake life, guard fire. Betray, die."
Maria's eyes shone, fixed on him. Wei Ran's lips twitched, silent.
---
Jason set the file down, a heavy thud. "Fire doesn't know people—it knows trust. Codes don't know oaths, but fire knows blood. Sign. With blood."
Maria asked, "All Seat members?"
"All Fire Trust systems," Jason said. "Code guards, fire teams, dark fire nodes—all."
Wei Ran asked, "Blood on what?"
"Code shards," Jason said, voice like stone.
Maria bit out, "If codes reject?"
Jason's smile was iron: "Rejection means weak trust. Weak trust doesn't live."
The zone chilled.
---
No one argued. They knew Jason wasn't jesting—and there was no retreat.
Maria stepped first, baring a cracked wound, slashing her palm. Blood dripped on a shard, fire pulsing, accepting. She signed, blood and ink merging.
Wei Ran followed, cutting, bleeding, signing. Fire pulsed.
One by one—guardians, officers, nodes—cut, bled, signed. No ceremony, only cold blood.
---
One hesitated, hand shaking before the shard. Maria's hand rested on her blade. Wei Ran's gun lifted. He cut, bled, and fire accepted. He signed.
Jason went last, slashing his palm. Blood hit the shard, fire flaring high, like a final gasp. He signed.
The Fire Trust Death Oath was sealed—not faith spoken, but sworn in blood, allied in life.
---
Maria stood by the shard, eyes bright. Wei Ran aimed into the night. Jason eyed the bloodied shards. "Fire knows. People know. Betrayers burn."
Beyond, Black Vine spied the glowing shards, unaware faith was rooting into flesh.
They saw fire jump, but not blood flowing.
---
In Black Vine's rear command, Zhao Yunzhi stared at the memetic spread, brow deepening. Shen Shu whispered, "Fire Trust Death Oath is live."
Zhao sneered, "Death oath? If they don't fear death, let 'em live mad."
He sent a command: [Operation False Fire Betrayal—Launch.]
Black Vine moved. Empire moved. Iron Valley's fire burned into bone.
But would bones crack? Would faith madden?
The Fire Trust game was heating up.