Chapter 112: The Ash Furnace Shatters Faith

Chapter One Hundred and Twelve: The Ash Furnace Shatters Faith

Section One: The Ash Furnace Shatters Faith

The night in the abandoned furnace district was like torn rusted iron. Wind howled through broken smokestacks, moaning like a corpse. Refinery Guild's camp sank into twisted silence. Some knelt, trembling, clutching knees. Others gripped code tags at their chests, lifelines in desperation. Some bit their teeth, frozen, but they knew—fire had seeped in. Code pulses thrummed in the air, low-frequency tremors shredding nerves.

Jason stood at the ruins' edge, squinting at the crowd under dim firelight. Maria crouched behind a wall, thumb grazing her blade's hilt. Wei Ran's rope coiled around his wrist, its end trailing, eyes like steel needles. Seventeen Steel Gate deserters spread out, venomous thorns.

Refinery Guild's guards had collapsed. What remained was a mud-like crowd, waiting to be crushed.

Jason exhaled, "Begin."

Maria rose, low, a wolf gliding from shadows. Wei flipped over a wall, rope silent. The seventeen split into three groups, creeping toward the furnace plaza.

No slogans, no roars—only code pulses pressing the air.

Maria slipped near a worker huddle, tossing a code tag into the firelight. It landed with a soft snap. The crowd flinched, a corpse pricked. Some turned, retreated, eyes twitching, seeing ghosts.

Maria's voice, low, pierced the night: "Fire is among you."

Her words sparked like embers in dry grass.

Wei moved, rope snaring a guard's neck. A tug—neck bones cracked, body slumping. No screams, no gasps—others froze, breathless.

A code tag pulsed in the firelight, a heart's final beat.

Jason stepped from shadows, boots crunching rubble, unhurried, an executioner ascending the gallows.

The crowd shrank, immobile, code tags in firelight like eyes in a corpse pile, staring.

Jason reached the fire, glancing at a tag. Its cracks were veins, pulses faint, heartbeats. He picked it up, spun it, fire carving his face like iron.

He scanned the crowd, voice low as ash after flames: "You fear fire?"

No answer, only wind scraping iron.

Jason tossed the tag down, crushing it with a crack. The pulse died, but bloodstains lingered.

"Not believers?" he said. "Then burn yourselves."

Maria raised her blade, pointing. Wei's rope snapped twice, dust rising. The seventeen closed in—not rushing, but encircling.

The crowd cowered, retreating. One tripped, knees bleeding, blood pooling over the shattered tag. Firelight flashed, pulse twitching.

Eyes trembled. Some clenched teeth, swallowed hard.

Jason stood by the fire, "Fire believers live. Non-believers burn clean."

His words sliced rotten flesh.

One knelt, trembling, cutting his arm with tag fragments, blood dyeing them.

Maria sheathed her blade, squinting.

Second, third, fourth knelt. Some refused, some fled.

Wei's rope lashed, coiling a runaway's neck, snapping it. Dust rose, none dared move.

Refinery Guild knelt, blood dripping on tags, ground, fire's edge.

Code pulses flickered, fire in bones.

Jason watched, "Not enough blood doesn't count."

Some slashed arms, shoulders, or bit tongues, spitting blood on tags.

Fire brightened—not the blaze, but blood burning.

Maria checked each, slashing deeper where blood lacked.

The crowd knelt in a circle, blood pooling like a river of corpses.

Jason exhaled, "Refinery Guild joins fire."

Maria looked up, cold, "Next?"

Wei crouched, rubbing blood from a tag onto his palm, "Burn bones. Scorch hearts."

Firelight blackened rusted iron. Code tags pulsed in blood.

Refinery Guild's ruins, faith's fire, burned through bones.

---

Section Two: Iron Bones Rust

Blood cooled. Wind swept ruins, stirring ash around shattered code tags. Refinery Guild knelt, blood crusting like frozen rust-water. Fire had burned, leaving blood and kneelers.

Jason stood before the blood pool, code tags bloodied, pulses weak but steady. Maria's hand rested on her blade, scanning the surrendered Guild, calm. Wei crouched, fingers tracing rope like a snake poised. Seventeen Steel Gate deserters and Guild converts mingled. Fire guardians watched from afar, unyielding.

Wind carried blood and rust, unyielding night.

Jason spoke, voice like a blade on bone: "Fire doesn't nurture scrap iron. Still codes are scrap."

Maria exhaled, "Next iron to hammer."

Wei's rope snapped, air cracking.

Jason turned east, past ruined buildings, to Bone Sentinel League's stronghold—Iron Valley's old imperial border remnants, bearing faded badges, guarding not power, but decayed glory, rotted faith.

"Old bones fear rust most," Jason said.

Maria added, "Tap them, rusted ones shatter."

Wei tightened his rope, snake bones coiling.

No rush—fire burned slowly, rust eroded bit by bit.

Jason pulled code tags from a barrel. Guild converts bowed, offering bloodied tags, silent, heads low.

Maria took one, thumb grazing its edge. Wei looped his rope around another, blood-sealed.

Jason raised a tag, pulses reddening bloodstains, "Fire doesn't pulse for old badges. Fire pulses for faith."

Guild kneelers froze. Steel Gate deserters gripped blades.

Maria whispered, "Send the message."

Wei grinned, rusted wire snapping, "Crush rusted bones."

Jason flicked a tag into the night, landing with a crisp snap.

Guild converts moved, hiding tags in rags, ash, barrels—not offering, but poisoning.

Bone Sentinel's outposts held dark sentries in old imperial uniforms, clutching cold rifles, smoking cheap tobacco. Their eyes dulled, backs straight, but brittle as decayed wood.

Guild converts slipped through alleys, tucking tags by ashtrays, badge piles, rifle crates. Pulses flickered, faint, a dying eye's blink.

Bone Sentinel didn't notice, but night thickened, blood's reek grew, wind carrying rusted gunpowder.

Jason stood high, watching, "Fire Trust codes planted. Old bones will stir."

Maria hissed, "Army soul fears cracks. Crack first, then shatter."

Wei coiled his rope, a hunter's noose.

Ruins stilled, iron trembling. Code tags pulsed, hearts bleeding.

Rust seeped into bones—not burning, but corroding, eroding.

---

 Section Three: Army Soul Cracks

Night froze. Sand scraped ruins, hissing like rusted knives. Bone Sentinel's stronghold was entombed in silence, shadows under walls and iron roofs, soldiers in faded imperial uniforms, badges like dead stars, spines steel-straight, creased but unyielding.

Maria crouched behind rubble, eyes locked on the stronghold's heart. Wei lay by a wall, fingers sensing tremors. Jason stood atop a ruin, gaze slicing night.

Code tags were sown, pulses spreading silently, drowning breaths, unsteadying hearts.

Bone Sentinel stirred. A lieutenant picked up a tag, frowning, turning it over. Others glanced, unspoken, distances widening.

Soldiers' instinct: blood's scent signaled formation.

Maria exhaled, "Splitting."

Wei's rope tensed, "Rusted bones crack themselves."

Jason watched, silent.

An old soldier stared at a tag, fingers tracing pulses, crawling into bones.

Someone muttered, "Pulses like a heart."

Another scoffed, "Hearts beat for life. This code's dead."

A third hissed, "Dead men have hearts, cold. We're walking corpses."

Words sliced the air. Tension gripped—not offense, but truth.

Jason squinted at the badge-clad soldiers, their bones rusted, hollow shells.

Maria whispered, "Hit bone."

Wei licked his lips, "Next, heart."

Jason signaled. Maria tapped her blade on a wall—two crisp knocks, ancient horns.

Guild converts moved, pulling tags from sleeves, rags, tunics, blood dripping, dyeing pulses red.

A major in uniform glared, roaring, "Drop it! It's dead men's filth!"

None dropped. More drew tags.

Pulses quickened, drowning struggles.

A middle-aged officer faced the major, "Dead? Are we alive?"

The major froze.

Crowds split—some retreated, others gripped tags, hands on gun grips.

Maria's blade spun. Wei's rope slithered. Jason's gaze nailed the crowd.

Tension tautened, an old barrel ready to burst.

The major bellowed, "Drop it! Non-compliers are traitors!"

His roar rippled blood pools.

A young soldier, pale but firm, pressed a tag to his badge. Pulses glowed, rust staining.

He spoke, clear, "Badges are dead. Faith lives."

He tore off his badge, crushed it, bones snapping.

Others watched, clenching teeth, fists.

One drew a gun, retreating. Wei's rope snapped, neck breaking, body slumping.

Maria crouched, blade low. Jason stood, watching.

The crowd fractured—tag believers versus badge loyalists.

Guns aimed at tag-holders, knives guarded tags.

Killing intent erupted.

Maria whispered, "Army soul cracked."

Jason replied, "Rusted bones shattered."

Wei's rope tightened, eyes empty barrels.

Code tags pulsed in blood, hearts, faith.

The first shot rang—not from Jason's group, but Bone Sentinel, against their own.

Blood splattered tags, pulses racing.

Fighting erupted—not outward, but inward, biting, killing, tearing.

Old army soul collapsed, self-destroyed.

Jason exhaled, cold. Maria adjusted her sleeve. Wei twirled his rope.

"Collect corpses. Collect bones," Jason said.

Fire burned in rusted bones, cracking, shattering faith, chilling blood.

---

 Section Four: Shattered Bones as Pact

Gunshots exploded in ruins—not volleys, but chaos, self-slaughter.

Bone Sentinel's stronghold dissolved. Soldiers tore badges, aimed at former comrades. Tag-holders fought back, teeth clenched.

Code pulses panted like sick dogs. Blood splattered walls, mud on rusted iron.

Maria crouched, blade low. Wei's rope trembled. Jason watched, a hunter eyeing wolves tearing each other.

Bone Sentinel's chaos grew—formations broke, discipline shattered, blood soaking boots, staining badges.

Maria hissed, "Time."

Wei's muscles tensed. Jason, calm, "Advance."

Maria moved, low, a blade in night, weaving through corpses and walls, nearing brawling soldiers.

Wei glided, rope coiling like a snake.

Maria's blade slit a major's throat, blood climbing walls like black vines. He fell, silent.

Wei's rope snared a gunman, neck snapping, face hitting ground.

Jason walked, not running, a butcher entering slaughter, boots squelching blood.

Behind him, seventeen Steel Gate deserters and Guild converts followed, gripping blades and tags.

Maria slashed a wrist, gun falling, blood spraying. A kick sent the soldier into tag piles, pulses brightening.

Wei's rope caught two, necks colliding, bones crunching, blood-mud splashing.

Jason picked a pulsing tag, pressing it to a crawling soldier's chest, "Fire Trust, live. No trust, die."

The soldier gasped, blood dripping, pushing the tag. Jason held firm, eyes cold, watching a dying dog.

The soldier broke, clutching the tag, life's last thread.

Maria slashed five, blood arcs like tattered flags. Wei's rope mowed, snapping necks, blood hymns in night.

Jason rose, tag falling into blood, pulsing, fire flickering.

The soldier knelt, head low, submitting, accepting fate.

Maria toppled a struggler, severing knee tendons, forcing a kneel in blood.

Wei crushed a lieutenant's jaw, blood and teeth pooling.

Surviving soldiers stared at tags, pulses, blood, their comrades' corpses.

Some dropped guns, tore badges, knelt.

Jason said, "Non-kneelers, kneel dead."

Maria pressed her blade to a struggler's neck, "Kneel or die."

Wei's rope hissed, "Fire doesn't save. It burns old lives, grants new ones."

More knelt, blood spreading, pulses racing.

Jason reached the stronghold's heart, blood stinging eyes, his gaze steady, tag pulsing like a heart, life.

"Army soul burned dry," he said. "Old bones shattered."

Maria wiped blood from her hilt. Wei shook blood into sand.

Jason planted a tag in blood, pulses glowing, newborn embers.

"Kneelers, seal blood pacts," he said.

Maria asked, "How?"

Jason's gaze iced, "Bite off badges, blood on tags, carve faith from bones."

Maria laughed, sandpaper on iron.

Kneelers bit badges, blood flowing, some cracking teeth, swallowing shards, smearing blood on tags.

Pulses brightened—one, two, ten, twenty.

Blood reddened, fire blazed.

"Bone Sentinel joins fire," Jason said.

Maria sheathed her blade, eyes hard. Wei's rope flicked, blood speckling sand.

Code tags pulsed in blood, embers in ash—not old empire's soul, not rusted bones, but blood-fire.

---

Section Five: Cold Fire Remnants

Night deepened. Wind carried blood through ruins, corpse breaths. Blood pools carpeted the ground, code tags scattered, pulsing like heart twitches.

Maria crouched, wiping blood from her blade. Wei coiled his rope, wiping fingers like peeling corpse skin. Jason stood, gazing at kneeling Bone Sentinel—shattered, badges broken, trampled in mud. They bit off emblems, bloodied tags, Fire Trust's pulses throbbing in blood, unquenched embers.

"Disperse," Jason said.

Maria sheathed her blade. Wei hung his rope. Deserters and converts rose, wolves from corpse piles.

Jason crossed blood, boots leaving black prints, picking a wet tag, scanning kneelers, gaze nailing spines.

"Kneelers, swear blood oaths," he said.

None moved, blood's stench thickening. Some stood, slashing palms, blood dripping on tags.

One by one, no slacking, no hesitation.

Maria's gaze sharpened. Wei's rope slithered, venomous.

Blood hit tags, pulses jolting, hearts shocked alive.

Jason watched, "Fire Trust codes claim masters."

Sworn kneelers lived. Unsworn died.

Fleeing Bone Sentinel remnants scattered. Maria's eyes flicked, "Clear?"

Wei's rope snapped, "No loose ends."

Jason nodded, silent.

Maria drew, Wei uncoiled, converts spread, blades in night—not pursuit, but harvest.

No war cries, only blades slicing, blood splashing, brief, calm, precise.

Fleeing soldiers stumbled, clowns on knife-edges.

Maria slashed a leader's tendons, pinning his neck, blade sliding down spine. Blood sprayed, body stilled.

Wei's rope caught two, necks snapping, corpses dangling like rats.

Converts stabbed backs, slit throats, clean.

Night held blood splashes, rust-blood wind.

Jason watched from high, gaze steady, nature's culling.

Ten minutes—fleeing soldiers reaped, corpses aligned like dried grass.

Maria shook blood from her blade. Wei flicked his rope, blood speckling sand.

Jason picked a tag, pulses glowing.

"Rusted bones burned clean," he said.

Kneeling soldiers bowed, blood crusting, tombstones cast in blood.

"Disperse," Jason said. "Join squads. Await next Fire Trust spark."

Maria nodded, "Memetic chain, time to spread."

Wei grinned, "Farther spread, faster burn."

Converts scattered, viruses in ruins, carrying blood, tags, Fire Trust memetics.

Maria returned, "Next?"

Jason squinted at deeper ruins, Black Sand Raiders' flags faint, black-market snakes, trusting coin, not codes.

"Black Sand's fire needs silver to ignite," he said.

Maria smirked. Wei tightened his rope, "Kill hearts, chaos coin first."

Jason pulled a tag, its back etched with steel-needle words—not codes, but Fire Trust's mantra: "Blood as order. Fire as oath."

He traced the etching, "Spread memetics, chaos coin, ignite fire."

Maria sheathed, Wei coiled, converts dispersed.

Fire Trust's poison, code's fire, crept through ruins, night, hearts.

Wind froze, blood dried, fire burned—in tags' pulses, blood pools, Fire Trust's hearts.