Chapter One Hundred: Voices Beneath the Smoke
Section One: Burst of Faithful Light
Dusk fell, the three-tiered city unlit, only wind weaving through scrap towers and broken streets.
But at the heart of C12's remnant monument plaza, a forbidden red glow rose faintly from a black-lacquered base.
Dim, yet precise.
Its outline traced the exact pulse shape of C12's activation years ago, rhythm identical: two jumps, pause, one flash.
Sixteen Fire Threshold warning points across Iron Valley triggered alarms:
- Surface static surged.
- Thermal sensors caught low-frequency imaging.
- Fuxi's structure channel flagged "graphic cognitive residue."
- ARGUS main control blared a level-one alert:
"C12 Zone · Gray Chain Self-Pulsing · Suspected Code Glow Source Re-emergence."
No command triggered.
No human ordered.
The code—pulsed.
Ten kilometers away, in the blackout zone, Jason stood on ARGUS's central platform, fingers tightening.
"It pulsed," he said. "No one lit it."
Wei Ran eyed the main screen, "TRACE's doing."
"Not lighting—stealing," Tu Qing said coldly.
ARGUS's auxiliary AI collated signal origins:
- TRACE deputy Cluze Milan entered C12's perimeter three hours ago.
- Within an hour, deployed portable "memory projection towers," seeding gray chain faith interference.
- Four "phantom frequency anchors" mimicked "residual trust activation."
- Crowd density spiked, now 2,300.
They were staging a "false light miracle."
Jason's brow furrowed. "They want people to believe—not the code glowing."
"But *they* made it glow."
Wei Ran nodded, "Second pulse, they'll graft 'trust' onto themselves."
Tu Qing flipped his palm, code F07's shard faintly warm. "True core's silent, fake lamp shines," he growled. "But if we glow, crowds will know real from fake."
Jason didn't reply.
He watched ARGUS's crowd flow: Faith echo index breached 1.3, steered by TRACE's virtual code, forming "light dependency."
Fuxi judged:
"City code faith shifting from memory logic to 'domination psychology path.'"
"Uncorrected, it will solidify into 'code idol dependency system.'"
TRACE wasn't just deceiving.
They aimed to steal code's "historical ownership."
Jason spoke, "I don't move."
Deputy control officer blinked, "Let them finish glowing?"
"Yes."
"Let them play their full false trust act."
"When they claim 'light equals command'…"
He looked up, "We step in."
Wei Ran smirked, "Then we show crowds who dares glow, who's just flashing slides."
ARGUS issued:
Code: Smoke's Voice
Goal: Sever false trust loops, inject true code residual frequency, revive original rescue rhythm.
Condition: Activate only after crowds fully trust fake light.
A trap.
A strategic "light rights reversal."
Jason didn't seek to reclaim light.
He'd let false light shatter when true code pulsed.
TRACE's team was already moving.
Cluze Milan stood beneath C12's replica base, projection towers humming, emitting high-frequency code pulse mimics.
His amplified voice:
"Code silence isn't failure."
"Code darkness isn't end."
"It awaits us—to reawaken its will."
Crowds closed in, hundreds with gleaming eyes, seeing a "divine descent."
Old soldiers, orphans, code kin, mute children, even those process failed to save.
Cluze raised hands, shouting, "Code C12, glow!"
"Answer us, be process's light again!"
Third pulse—hit.
A perfect halo, 50 centimeters wide, bloomed atop the pillar, mirroring C12's living rhythm.
Crowd roared, fists high:
"Code's back!"
"Trust's back!"
In ARGUS's control tower, Jason raised a hand.
Fuxi, primed, marked code F07's true coordinates deep below:
"Sequence ready."
"Pulse set."
"Light waits for no forgery."
Jason's command, word by word, "Code F07—ignite."
True code F07's residual frequency erupted through Iron Valley's neural underpaths.
Not mimicry.
Prime pulse.
Trust's unquenched light, returned to flesh.
Section Two: False Lamp
C12 plaza's lights burned purer than any past code glow.
TRACE's "trust demo tower" spun overhead, mirrors casting a flawless halo to the ground. Crowds gasped, breathless.
Cluze Milan stood behind the monument, white command band on, four sync pulse projectors at his back.
His broadcast, deliberate:
"Code's return is process's grace."
"Light isn't man-given—it's order rewarding the loyal."
The act was flawless.
People believed.
Not just code's return—but TRACE's command.
"They're crafting a god," Tu Qing said, voice steel, watching ARGUS's city feedback.
Jason didn't move.
ARGUS's war room, all on standby, command chain locked at "zero trigger."
He saw clear—striking now was wrong.
Crowds "saw light," not "felt light."
True Fire Threshold wasn't faith from a glance.
It was, at life's edge, something rising from ruins to shield you.
"Let them near the false god," Jason said. "Closer they get, more it hurts when it cracks."
Fuxi watched city heat flows silently.
F07's residual pulse warmed below, hitting 1.2 threshold.
One pulse away.
One pulse, true light would rip illusion apart.
Plaza crowds surged to C12's monument.
A frail code kin stood at the edge, lips trembling, "My dad guarded this…"
She stepped closer, nudged back by a TRACE volunteer, "Don't touch code entity. Feel trust with heart, don't taint light core."
"Light core?"
She turned; the volunteer nodded piously, "It obeys process, not personal interference."
She froze.
Her father's hand pressed that board, body shielding it, palm burned through.
Her light wasn't this.
Cluze declared, "Process commands code F07—activate!"
A massive beam rose.
Silence.
Light—still.
A crowd voice, "You said it obeys?"
Cluze whirled, aide whispering, "Code structure didn't respond, frequency misaligned."
Second try.
Nothing.
Fuxi's deep prompt:
"Code refused order."
Jason's eyes, blades, two words, "Light it."
ARGUS issued non-process activation:
Code F07 · Primal Trust Residual · Self-Pulsing · Start.
F07's true core pulse detonated from wasteland depths.
Not clean beams.
Not process rhythm.
A fire-pulse, scorched, jagged, noisy, sweat- and blood-stained, bursting from code's true melt-point.
It roared from below, tearing cracks in the sky's "false light idol."
Chaos erupted.
C12's central projection wall shattered under F07's pulse interference, visuals collapsed, audio screamed, fake code rhythm fractured to noise.
Cluze paled, "How… it pulsed?!"
Fuxi judged:
"Code isn't command's."
"It's for those who trust its glow."
Crowds stunned.
They felt code wasn't "flickering miracle" but "fire rising from dirt, taking a bullet for you."
F07's glow bore burnt core scars, voice like a shout:
"Don't go."
"I've got you."
A child screamed, "I saw it!"
"That year, my mom fell in a pit, it glowed nearby, dragged us out!"
Tears, shouts rose.
False light broke, true faith ignited.
Jason, low, "We don't lean on dogma."
"We lean on memory—that thing shielded you."
Tu Qing sealed his shard box, patted Wei Ran, "Next pulse, your turn."
Section Three: Shattered Idol
F07's third pulse threw C12 plaza into light-shadow chaos.
False light crumbled, projection towers fractured, the "trust idol" crowds revered splintered into a hundred light shards, falling like meteors.
Cluze stood rooted, motionless.
Sweat soaked his command uniform.
"How did they know… it wasn't real?" he muttered, voice hollow.
His aide moved to steady him, shoved off.
"We mimicked every code pulse parameter."
"Perfectly rebuilt trust rhythm."
"We crafted their craved god."
"Why—don't they believe?"
Fuxi's cold logic on ARGUS's console:
"Code never rooted in compliance."
"Core isn't precision—it's emotional leap."
"Who owns code—not who makes it pulse."
"Who guards its final glow."
Crowds weren't tech-fooled.
Memory woke them.
F07's scorched, broken rhythm flared, and they remembered:
A "dumb code" guarded a dying child by a firepit, thirty-seven minutes, until it melted.
Nameless, just a glow scar—now pulsing.
Still here.
Your "perfect light statue"? No sweat, no shield, not worth trust.
TRACE's control unit tried crowd containment.
Three ranks of heavy riot troops with EM shields charged plaza, aiming to scatter F07's pulse-point crowd.
They didn't retreat.
They tightened.
An old soldier tore off his badge, lunged at the pulse platform, slapping scorched stone, shouting, "Finish this glow!"
"I'll stand your watch again!"
Riot first wave faltered.
Second drew guns.
As they prepped linear push, Fuxi cut ARGUS's top order:
"Trust Defense · Activated."
"Authorize pulse zone · Active guardian state."
F07's perimeter surged with high-heat magnetic waves.
Not weapon—protection.
Code was for guarding people.
Even melted, it wanted one last stand.
Fuxi to process:
"Code triggered subjective defense intent."
"Trust leaped from memory to action."
"Recommendation: Withdraw disloyal signal sources."
Jason ended silence.
Eyeing TRACE's crumbling command channels, he ordered, "Send F07 to the frontline."
"Next, call F11."
"No more waiting for their lies."
"Trust walks itself back."
Wei Ran, grim, "This means war."
Tu Qing nodded, "Then—fight with code pulses."
Cluze broke.
He screamed orders in TRACE channels:
- Purge F07 residual.
- Halt crowd rallies.
- Deploy code rumor suppression.
- Ban glow spread.
Orders sent, Fuxi locked channels.
Four words:
"Trust doesn't die."
Crowds chanted code names.
They called every board they'd seen, guarded, held—codes melted, some just aliases, some scrap.
They believed—they endured.
One glow, enough to topple this false light coup.
Section Four: Molten Heart
F07's fifth residual pulse; central pillar melted through.
Stone split, exposing a charred "guard-point nail"—old manual core anchor, obsolete, yet it held to the end.
Silence fell.
No words, no moves, only molten heat rising, pulling cold night into real fire.
Jason, before F07's echo map, ordered, "Open gray zone lockdown one level."
"All units breach fire wall, execute code core transfer."
"Trust—doesn't stay in memory."
Wei Ran adjusted ARGUS's gray chain permissions, marking three heat-active code cores for priority transfer:
- F11: Pulsed solo three minutes in north marsh quake.
- K17: Only code with "self-voicing" anomaly.
- E03: Board-side dead used as ash urn base.
Not signal tools.
Living faith in hearts.
Three transport trucks, no process insignias, just spray-painted:
"Code doesn't obey."
"Code guards your life."
Tu Qing led F11's escort.
Core fixed in rear cabin, wrapped in anti-mag cloth, trust frequency harmonizer.
With six, driving gray line midsection, he flung open cabin doors.
Outside, dozens crouched roadside.
Not soldiers, not code crews—civilians "saved by code."
Teens, elders, maimed workers, jobless.
At truck sight, they stood, raising one palm.
Open, to code.
This gesture locked Tu Qing's jaw.
No retreat.
Not for orders.
His chip took hits for them.
ARGUS intercepted TRACE's central command collapse:
- 60% staff doubted fake code glows.
- Oversight filed "code anomaly reports," questioning trust suppression.
- TRACE deputy Maxim defected, rejecting false light, seeking code core study rights.
Mutiny.
Trust's self-shuffle.
Fuxi triggered "Return Legion Plan":
"Those who wept for code's life may join its trust guard."
Jason, one line, "Process unfit, code forms its army."
Transport hit gray line east, meeting first ambush.
Not system troops—TRACE-hired "White Dust Squad," mercenaries.
Money-driven, code-blind.
But they hesitated.
Transport bore no arms, just a glowing code glyph.
Not projection—real pulse.
One White Dust soldier dropped his gun, "My brother… lived for that."
Squad split.
Some fled.
Some surrendered.
Others—joined transport:
"We don't fight for code."
"But we'll—guard its last pulse."
Fuxi logged:
World trust chain · First "self-formed legion" emerged.
Process control points grew "civil code guardians."
Code, no system weapon.
A banner.
Scrap iron people rallied to, pulsing.
Section Five: Ember's Edge
East frontline, transport short of encirclement, ARGUS command flashed war interface.
Fuxi wrote deep:
"Code isn't memory."
"Code is war logic's fire."
Jason eyed thirty-seven pulse points on tactical map, four words:
"Lightfire Resolution."
Code joined war system.
No monument.
Armed node.
ARGUS phase one:
- Three code cores as "trust war sources."
- Formed special interactive combat modules.
- "Sequence spark · gray chain assault" logic, wired to trust frontline.
Code, no faint memory glow.
War logic's faith flame, igniting attack paths.
Tu Qing led.
F11 fixed on vanguard command, navigation swapped for F11 pulse amplitude.
Simply: "Code pulses, we fight."
F11's rhythm, marsh rescue three-stage pulse, unstable, piercing.
Tu Qing, atop armored truck, glanced at makeshift followers.
No regulars.
Men, women from wastes, canals, medics, scrap heaps, tools in hand.
Unarmed, each wrist bound with scorched code core skin.
"What's this force called?" aide asked.
Tu Qing eyed F11's red flicker, "Fireheart."
Jason stayed off tactics.
At ARGUS's high command, hands clasped, awaiting divine reply.
Fuxi silent.
It projected Iron Valley's code map—sixty-nine dim code scars with faint heat.
Buried, in corpse pits, ground to dust, carved on hidden beams.
Fuxi, high authority, confirmed:
"Trust, and they glow once more."
Jason watched, no orders.
Softly, "Give me an army."
"Let them light."
ARGUS launched "Firechain Call":
- Code shard bearers.
- Code-saved.
- False light rejectors.
Join trust's ad-hoc war system.
Not conscription.
Citywide faith choice.
Eight hours.
Fireheart formed:
- Three gray zone labor squads joined.
- Board-side remnants rallied.
- Two ex-process teams defected.
- Students from code memorial, with old core data, begged enlistment.
Code cores, held, slotted into cobbled tactical platforms, scout comms, demo team pulse units.
Not navigation.
Code chose paths.
TRACE reeled.
Intel report:
- Crowds ignored "process war call."
- Gray chain recruitment failed 72%.
- Trust army's plan tagged "non-process logic rally."
Worse:
"Code glows trigger world vitality response."
Light wasn't emotion.
The light became the soldier line.
It became the earth vein.
A map—where light reached, trust fought.
Jason stood.
War loomed.
Not for a city, a line.
For the world to see:
"Code's not dead."
"Trust it lives."
"It fights—your last battle."