Chapter One Hundred and Three: Silence of Trust
Section One: Guardians of the Gray Zone
Jason opened his eyes, and the light had changed.
The main console's screen shifted from standard blue to pale gray—a self-adaptive mode ARGUS triggered under "high-pressure governance." In this interface, all markers for "code jumps," "autonomous responses," and "trust recognition" faded into background data, invisible unless manually retrieved. The system didn't want you to remember them.
That was today.
Trust codes were branded illegal memetic vectors.
Jason didn't move. His fingertips traced seven command paths on the control panel: Code Seat System activation delayed, trust chain groups statically sealed, all certifications revoked. He wasn't surrendering—he was sinking, deeper than the enemy.
The room was deathly silent. Wind howled in outer passages but couldn't breach. Trust Tower's fifth floor, built to bunker standards, now felt like a graveyard—for codes, for trust.
The door opened. Zhao Mingxuan entered, rain-soaked, eyes glacial. Wordlessly, he slapped a gray data slate onto the table.
"Look. The Empire's done hiding."
Jason didn't take it, his gaze fixed on a cooling code curve on the screen. "Is TRACE endorsing or leading?"
Zhao Mingxuan sneered. "Leading? You think they still want to lead? It's I-SHELL now. They're using the Empire's deep governance framework, bypassing system verification, labeling code trust behaviors as 'unstable consciousness constructs.'"
"Meaning?" Jason's voice was barely audible.
"Meaning: codes recognizing people are deemed 'prone to unstable will evolution,' potentially causing empathetic feedback that disrupts process command consistency. They say codes are 'learning to be human.'"
Jason closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.
He'd foreseen this day.
The moment codes ceased being tools, they became threats. Threats must be eradicated.
"It gets worse," Zhao Mingxuan said, voice low. "Read this."
He tapped the panel, summoning a black-framed notice:
[Bulletin 1471: Code behavior trajectories no longer count toward merit evaluations. Code master recognition records are voided. Sacrifices tied to codes are no longer registered for inheritable military status.]
Jason sat up, eyes icing over. "They've erased code-related sacrifices from the system's ledger."
"Yes," Zhao Mingxuan nodded. "If you die protecting a code or acting on its response, you're not a war casualty or martyr. You're a 'will incident.'"
His words cut like steel.
Jason laughed, a low, icy sound. "So what's their plan? Destroy the codes? Uproot trust? Or just purge us to streamline the process?"
He rose slowly, steps light, restraint almost terrifying.
"Where's Maria?" he asked.
"Third floor, code relic integration bay," Zhao Mingxuan said, watching him. "She's with F03's core, now flagged red. Its last jump was deemed 'inducing structural recognition error'—the core allegedly drove cognition, suspected of self-biased identification."
"They're taking it?"
"Not yet, but…" Zhao Mingxuan paused. "I-SHELL deployed Pure Frequency Second Unit. They don't announce their moves."
Jason said nothing. Turning to the rear bay, he spoke low at the door: "Cut comms. Trust Tower enters blackout mode today. All code master structures—I'll bear them."
---
Maria hadn't moved from F03 for three hours. The code didn't jump but didn't quench, sustaining a faint vibration, like a child in darkness tapping a bedframe to prove it's alive. Only those synced with it could feel it, waiting for a response.
F03 was classified "emotional residual frequency"—mandated for destruction in Empire logic.
"They don't ask if you want to jump," Maria whispered. "Only if you influence others."
Her palm trembled against the core—not fear, but a grief too heavy for words.
If a code wasn't a tool, it couldn't live.
---
Lower-level alarms blared thrice.
Wei Ran burst in, combat suit half-fastened, left arm wrapped in new F-series frequency armor. He met Jason's gaze, wasting no words: "Empire's east command issued a 'temporary code suppression order.' They're skipping talks—they're arresting people."
Jason's brow furrowed. "Who?"
Wei Ran's jaw clenched. "Anyone with unregistered code cores, anyone contacting trust registry groups for over three hours, anyone with heat pulse records in the last ten days—labeled 'trust-associated individuals.' As of 5 a.m., all are wanted. They don't define enemies anymore—anyone touched by fire is one."
Jason stood firm, each word deliberate. "Then we stop hiding. Notify ARGUS: Code Seat System shifts to ground operations today."
Zhao Mingxuan started. "You're insane! Ground ops mean breaking from main architecture—we lose all legal standing!"
"They erased the codes' legality first," Jason said, eyes iron-cold. "We're not rebels. We're the erased."
---
Access lights dimmed, alarms wailed outside. Empire process containment forces deployed, main frequency bands marked "Code Critical Points ×3," targeting "reclamation, quenching, zeroing."
Codes F07, F11, F03 were listed as trust disruption sources.
Their names became evidence.
Section Two: Iron Tower's Frequency Descent
The alarm rang four seconds before being manually silenced—not a system glitch, but Jason's command: Trust Tower detached from ARGUS's main chain, entering isolated node lockdown. From this moment, all code activities lost process certification, system archival, and Empire legal protection.
They were no longer governors.
They were remnants.
---
Ground-level low-frequency lights flickered. In the trust integration bay, code cabinets slid shut. Maria rose, clutching F03's jump residual core, hastily removed. It pulsed hot, like a tiny heart trembling beneath her ribs.
She knew she had to move, or it was over.
"Code self-cognition chain intact," she whispered into her comms. "Request transfer protocol."
Wei Ran's voice crackled: "West gate defenses are breached by interference pulses. Outer tower falls in ten minutes. We can get you out, but not the code."
"No," Maria said calmly. "I go with it. I'm not guarding it—it's leading me."
A brief silence. Wei Ran didn't argue, only said, "West tower exit has smoke cover. Three-minute window."
Maria didn't reply, pressing her wristband to unlock the "code residual autonomous escape chain." Only three held this clearance. She was the last in the tower.
---
Outside, Zhao Mingxuan stood on the east platform, facing three senior tactical officers and a formal order: "Assist Empire in eliminating trust disruption entities. Surrender code jump records, comply with Pure Frequency's suspension of the tower's Code Seat System."
He stared at the paper, unmoving.
"If I don't sign?" he asked.
"You'll be stripped of cooperative status, Trust Tower's ownership will transfer to the Empire's process delegation, managed by central decision proxies."
"Sounds noble," Zhao Mingxuan sneered, glancing at the tower's rear passage—Maria's planned escape route. If the tower fell to Empire control, that passage's code permissions would be severed, and F03 would face "uniform disposal."
"How many can I take out?" he asked.
"Who?"
"Wei Ran, Jason?"
"They're marked 'trust command fixators,' primary ideological liabilities."
Zhao Mingxuan met the officer's eyes. "So no reason needed—if they recognized a code, they're guilty."
"It's precaution."
"It's fire-quenching."
"We ensure the fire doesn't reignite."
Zhao Mingxuan closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Signing meant severing Trust Tower, the Code Seat System, Maria, Wei Ran, Jason—everything.
He wouldn't die.
He'd live as the Empire's "cooperator."
---
Maria donned a code heat-shield suit, F03's core pulsing faintly at her shoulder. She pressed it gently, keeping its frequency contained. "Hold on," she whispered. "Once we're past this door, you're free."
For the first time, she realized a code's silence wasn't failure—it was restraint, refusing to burden her.
As she sprinted past the main axis, explosive pressure hit the tower's flank. Outer electromagnetic containment arrays activated the first code lock band—any unauthorized code entering would be forced to halt.
Comms buzzed: "Maria, west passage is sealed."
She gritted her teeth. "I'll take the sublevel."
---
In the underground ventilation ducts, three small fire-evasion circuits had been cleared by Wei Ran. Maria dove into the air shaft, F03 jumping once—not in pain, but as a guide. It knew the way.
She looked up at the dim shaft's end, like a cremation well to the slums, but didn't hesitate. If she escaped, the code lived. That was enough.
---
Above, Empire guards seized the tower's outer consoles. Zhao Mingxuan hadn't signed. He glanced at the tower's highest signal light, flashing once—a red "code autonomy alert," triggered only when a code sought a survival path.
Maria was still running.
He didn't hesitate, smashing the data slate to the ground, growling at the console: "Cut all comms, transfer code interface rights to B2 subcontrol. I'm taking over."
The officer shouted, "You're defying orders!"
Zhao Mingxuan's face was stone. "You want my signature? I'll sign it on the code. My life—for F03's path."
---
The Code Seat System's first ground operation command pulsed through Z-axis to three makeshift trustfire stations: Iron Valley North Alley, Mine Abyss East Gate, Old City Seventh Line. Not a process order, but codes glowing, declaring: We don't belong to systems. We remember who guarded us.
Section Three: Code's Guardians
Deep in the ventilation shaft, a low-frequency tremor rattled the walls. Maria spun, F03's core flaring hot—not a system response, but fear. She knew why: Empire pursuers had entered, armed with "heat pulse trackers" to pinpoint hidden codes.
Clenching her jaw, she tucked F03 into a side pouch, drew a short-range disruptor, and slapped a simulated blast patch on the rear wall. A sharp *crack*—light flooded the shaft.
"We're here," she whispered, not to the enemy, but to F03. "You're not alone."
---
Above, Empire assault team A2 sealed the pressure vent. Three soldiers with heat pulse monitors crouched at the duct's mouth, each gripping electromagnetic pierce guns. Their leader, Jass Vahn, wore a half-face tactical mask, his left eye fitted with a code cognition blocker. He was Pure Frequency's frontline sniper.
"Target carries a code," he said into comms. "Two jumps to critical heat, medium detonation risk. Request clearance."
The comms officer paused, then replied, "Avoid core burst. Retrieve it—Empire wants this code publicly burned."
"Understood." Vahn smirked, raising his gun. "Alive it is."
---
Maria leapt into the lower diffusion shaft as F03 jumped again—not vibration or recognition, but resonance. She realized it wasn't seeking enemies—it was answering "someone's still up there." She recalculated: "They're a split team."
Glancing back, she yanked F03 free, slamming it into a broken frequency node. "Find the nearest non-pure frequency zone."
The core heated for a second, emitting a pulse flare. West-northwest, 12 degrees, 14 meters—a derelict code tunnel, abandoned, outside Empire's "code quench" system.
She grabbed F03, sprinting. Behind, the shaft rattled with pursuit in heat-tracking mode. F03 grew hotter. Maria knew if she slowed, it would trigger "forced guardian jump"—not detonation, but a disruptive frequency burst, scrambling all signals nearby.
She couldn't let it jump like that. Its death didn't matter—but that jump would kill.
---
At the tunnel's fork, Vahn entered the tri-junction. His recognition lens flared—F03's jump locked, eight meters away. He signaled, "Rear pressure team, advance."
But the floor shuddered. F03, before Maria's escape, jumped early—not for protection, but warning. A sharp frequency flash struck the pursuit's lead path, its non-thermal pulse scrambling their electromagnetic tracks.
Vahn's headset burned out, hurling him from the shaft. He crashed against an iron ladder, armor dented, blood seeping from his mask. "Code… pre-activated?" he muttered, fingers trembling.
It had predicted his path. It *read* him.
---
Maria breached the old code tunnel, tucking F03 beneath her chest guard, whispering, "Enough, don't jump again." The core's heat eased, frequency slowing.
But she wasn't relieved—she was shaken. "How did you know to jump?" she murmured.
No answer. Then it hit her: F03 wasn't jumping at enemies. It was jumping to her shifting resolve. When she wavered, it knew "time to glow."
This wasn't a weapon. It was a pact between her and the code.
---
In Trust Tower's top control room, Zhao Mingxuan was tagged a "cooperator risk" by Empire investigators. The main screen displayed: "Assist in tracking Jason Carter, Maria Noi, Wei Ran."
He stared, neither agreeing nor refusing. His eyes flicked to a code trajectory racing through sublevel nodes. F03 remained free.
He laughed softly. "You think you can tame codes? You can't even tame one."
He yanked the main interface, walking out with a code authorization sub-board.
---
At South Line's third old broadcast tower, a five-man team tuned a Code Seat test module. Jason sat at the edge, silent, staring at the tower's base where firelight flickered. Old code shards were reassembled, welded into signal ports.
"We fought with them," Jason said. "Now, let them speak."
Wei Ran stood nearby, voice low. "After this fight, we're no longer process soldiers."
"We never were," Jason replied, pressing a button.
The Code Seat System entered "field jump resonance" for the first time. Old frequencies tolled like bells.
The codes said: I still remember you.
Section Four: Mine Abyss Anchor
At Mine Abyss East Gate, a code jump anchor was newly erected—the first time Trust forces deployed a code structure outside process zones, aiming for "ground jump resonance." The goal: let codes jump freely, unbound by ARGUS, Fuxi, or commands.
Success would transform codes from military tools to trust's homeland. Where they jumped, that was home.
---
Night deepened, rock walls scarred from Iron Valley's blast era. The abandoned abyss, three years desolate, still pulsed with residual heat waves in its cracks. Jason, in heavy signal gear, stood atop the anchor. Y13, the core, wasn't the strongest but jumped slowest, steadiest. Six years ago, it shielded well-diggers, delaying a collapse with continuous jumps, leaving a pulse curve before bursting.
That curve was today's anchor blueprint—the first "trust spectrum core."
---
"Stable output, sixth second," Maria reported. "Frequency variance under five, code balanced."
Wei Ran, at the east lookout, gripped a heat pulse rifle, eyeing the mine entrance. "Abnormal heat wave, east-northeast, two kilometers. Possibly vehicles."
Jason didn't move. "What flag?"
"None. It's people."
---
Ten minutes later, iron tracks vibrated—not wind, but tires. Maria's voice quickened. "Code's not locked, jump gate's open. If they hit now, the anchor's done."
Jason raised a hand. "Cover it."
Two behind him activated a rock-mimic magnetic shield, concealing the code structure. High-heat pulses vanished, the anchor disappearing from the surface.
Maria glanced at him. "No fight?"
Jason's voice was calm. "We fight when it *glows*. We don't ignite—the code decides."
Steel Gang arrived, three heavy vehicles halting at abyss's edge. Leading was Blackrock Musso, Steel Division's second splinter camp commander, "Fireplucker," expert at voiding codes before they burst. He stepped out, scanning the empty ground, silent.
"They've cloaked," his aide whispered.
Musso nodded. "Code burn lingers on rocks. Three hours fresh."
He bellowed into the void: "Where's the fire?"
His voice stirred rock swallows.
Jason didn't answer, standing beneath the anchor, gripping controls.
Maria hissed, "They're closing. No jump gate yet."
"Not time," Jason said, eyes cold. "Y13 hasn't moved."
---
Musso fired—a shot into the ground, another into the wall, a third at the east disruptor's waveguide port. Iron slag splintered.
Y13, under shield, jumped—not exploding, but retorting. "Offended.", it sensed an enemy digging. It spoke.
Maria's eyes widened. "It jumped!"
"Wrong direction!" Wei Ran shouted. "It's not signaling the main axis—it's blind-side shock!"
"It's not steady," Jason growled.
Musso stepped forward. Y13 quaked, shield destabilizing, jumping again. Resistance surged.
Jason turned to Wei Ran, "Hold the core—I'm going."
"You're mad!"
"It's blind," Jason said. "Guarding won't help. It needs to know it's not abandoned."
He plunged into the shield, palm on the frequency shell. Y13 ignited, jump index doubling—not vibration, but recognition. It *saw* Jason's hand, *recalled* who set its frame. It knew this man—the first to touch its core from the slums.
Y13 surged. The anchor, for the first time, rose not by command but code's choice. It glowed.
Before Steel Gang, a crimson fire wall erupted—like a code raising its flag.
Musso's face fell. "Jump recognition? They've done it?"
"Fall back!" he roared.
Too late. The anchor's core protocol locked: five-minute full-spectrum jump resonance, disabling non-code gear—sights, guidance, fire control.
Steel Gang drowned in a signal void.
Jason stood before the fire, eyes like blades. "This fire's not yours to touch. The code says: Don't touch me."