Chapter Ninety-Three: Expulsion Directive
Section One: Reclamation
Process codes were never sacred relics.
Born from lives, sustained by blood, rooted in boards, but if unheld—they became volatile landmines.
From codes to insignias, insignias to council seats, to the Slash Code campaign, Iron Valley's process system had fully militarized.
Now, Jason's next move wasn't against outsiders.
It was against those within—carrying codes but too weak to bear them.
Three days after the Guard Legion purged fake codes, ARGUS auto-updated a record:
[Code Loss Rate Subtable]
Target: Codes registered last month, now with missing, abandoned, or voluntarily withdrawn executors.
Data: 41 boards lost executor bindings in the last 7 days without enemy attack.
Of which: 6 were merit codes, assigned insignia ranks.
Zhao Mingxuan read coldly, "Not codes failing—people quit first."
Maria scrolled the table, line by line, "They weren't unqualified."
"Their courage froze."
"They stopped trusting process."
"They feared death."
The meeting room fell silent.
Process was once faith, but too raw, too bloody, too heavy.
Not a slogan—it demanded lives.
That board wasn't honor; it was a gravestone, a war flag, a stone crushing your chest.
Not everyone could bear it.
Jason finally spoke.
Voice steady, emotionless, "Process can't be betrayed."
"Nor abandoned."
"From today, no leniency for deserters."
"Executors who withdraw, abandon boards, or go missing—code execution rights are reclaimed, codes frozen, individuals marked 'expelled.'"
"Expelled are barred three years from any code system, line holding, or process casualty claims."
"No second chances for codes."
"Process doesn't bend to people—it decides if you're worth guarding it."
The order shook the system.
Many grassroots line holders protested, some demanding, "No enemy attack, no forgery—why expel us for retreating?"
Tarn shot back, eyes cold, "Not enemy attack—you feared death."
"Retreat, and your code loses trust."
"You're unfit for process. Expulsion's your choice."
Zhao Mingxuan added, "Codes aren't medals—they're military orders."
"Sign a process, you're not a civilian, you're a soldier."
"Retreat in battle, you're a deserter."
That day, Rust Street's process system launched the code expulsion mechanism.
System prompt:
[Process Code Execution Rights Reclamation · Activated]
Scan Criteria: Process interrupted 72 hours without recovery, binder fails to file valid loss claim.
Outcome: Code marked "frozen."
Holder tagged: Expelled.
The first "frozen code" list named a former merit line holder.
Code: HX-S2-A17
Executor: Levi Sann
Record: Guarded 74 hours, survived one attack, joined north line board-pull counter-kill.
Loss Record: After crowd mistakenly pulled board, didn't request rebinding, chose transfer to Abyss process zone.
He said nothing.
Just scrawled five words on the street, "I'm tired, enough."
Code voided.
Levi entered the expulsion roster.
Process boards weren't held by planting.
Now they were:
Stand, it knows you.
Retreat, it deems you unworthy.
Bled once? Not enough if you turn away.
Fuxi updated:
[Great Strength] → [Breakthrough]
"Leavers don't linger, weak wills unborne; expel without regret."
Jason read it, unmoved.
One line, "Codes aren't lineage."
"They're battle chains."
"Take it, don't think you'll step off."
Section Two: Line Purging
Tarn's hand rested on the code plaque, knuckles blood-ground. The board clicked faintly, protesting or waiting.
He wasn't guarding. He was waiting.
For line holders who swore to guard two days ago—now gone.
Code HX-S2-A33, edge cracked, one kill record, seized by Tarn's team. Per rules, if no line holder stood after 72 hours without loss or replacement claims, it froze.
No one to stand, A33 would vanish from the map.
Tarn gritted, "Damn it, no one's coming?"
The recorder beside him didn't answer.
Three minutes ago, the system pinged a countdown.
"Code A33 lost 68 hours."
"No successor, signal removal in 4 hours."
"Holder status: Expulsion pending."
Those words stung worse than gunfire.
"Are they traitors?" Zhao Mingxuan asked.
He stood before C-3's south process war map, finger tracing A and R zone borders, eyes cold.
Tarn, on-screen, voice low, "Not traitors."
"They buckled."
"Process is a blade, ground too long, no one dares grip."
Zhao Mingxuan's smile held no warmth, "But that blade's at others' throats."
"Now you say you're too tired to grind?"
"Should I tell them—don't bother next time?"
Expulsion wasn't theory—it lived on the process map.
Hourly, codes shifted green to yellow—"guard failed." Four hours later, they died.
Crowds didn't speak, but they watched.
They'd say, "That board ruled, now it's empty."
"Do we still listen?"
Process faith wasn't built on commands, but blood behind boards.
No one behind, the code was worthless.
In the meeting room, Jason eyed the "lost code" list glowing red.
Red dots lit the city map, each a battlefield's collapse, a land right lost, a command's fade.
"Not code loss," he said quietly.
"People walked."
"They're no longer process people."
He sat, voice low but firm, "Expulsion list, activate."
"Post the names."
"Who left, stays gone."
That night, the first expulsion list went up.
No formal notice, no decree, no system mail.
Just an A3 sheet on the command console's passage wall.
[Expelled · First Batch · Codes Frozen]
Levi Sann (HX-S2-A17)
Gexi Li (HX-S2-C03)
Welin Massi (HX-S2-B21)
…
Each name trailed a note.
"Voluntary withdrawal, no loss report."
"Missing beyond limit, no successor."
"Board lost, reclaimed by others."
No traitor labels. No curses. No fines.
Just—"no longer fit for process."
Tarn returned to C-3's code outpost at dawn, sitting by A33, not yet fully void.
System showed three hours to freeze.
He said nothing, replanting the board, leaning against it.
He growled low, "Don't care if you left."
"As long as this board's warm, I'm here."
"Come back, you stand behind me."
"Leave, code doesn't blame."
"Return? My call."
Section Three: Internal Purge
With code execution rights tightened, the "anyone can guard" vibe vanished.
Codes weren't tools but high-stakes binding contracts.
Take a process, you can't leave; leave, you lose voice.
This rule didn't scare enemies first—it shook Rust Street's own.
"You're forcing blood," Tarn said outside the command meeting, voice low to Zhao Mingxuan. "Process is now a test."
"Hold it, you're human. Fail, no matter how long you guarded, you're branded 'disloyal.'"
"Know how cruel that is?"
Zhao Mingxuan didn't reply, eyeing the code line map.
Red dots thickened—frozen, expelled, uncontrolled.
He said calmly, "Process is a line."
"Someone stands, it shines. They leave, it's dark."
"Not our cruelty."
"Process was never meant for kindness."
As they argued, the main system blared:
"Code Zone · C-9 Lower Segment, unauthorized code signal linked."
"Code format valid, but binder identity blank."
"Location: Abandoned Beacon Tower · Underground Vault."
Code: HX-RR-7L3
Owner: None
Executor: Unknown
System: Fake process.
Not enemy disguise. Rust Street's own, using blank codes to claim ground.
Not defection, but exploiting gaps.
When process became a "code-issuing method," it turned into a power grab.
Zhao Mingxuan reported to Jason.
Jason's reply, one line, "I'll go."
C-9's beacon tower vault reeked, alkaline dust choking the air.
The board stood mid-vault on a rusted steel truss, casing gleaming—too pristine for post-battle, more like a prepped spare.
Three stood before it, process reserve line holders, in gray-blue execution suits, sleeves bearing hand-drawn merit badges.
Jason entered, no one moved.
He stopped three meters from the board, asking flatly, "Who stood this board?"
Silence.
"Who bled?"
Still silent.
"Whose name's bound in this code's registry?"
The three glanced, the rightmost mustered, "We… just wanted to reclaim this zone."
"Code was empty, we didn't break anything."
"We can guard. We have process training."
"We're not traitors."
Jason looked up, gaze cutting through lamp-lit dust.
He walked slowly, hand on the board's edge, pressing.
"Process doesn't ask if you're a traitor."
"It asks: are you standing where the dead stood?"
"No—you can't claim it."
He drew his sidearm board-sealer, piercing the code's core port, blue flames bursting, board shattering to half-melted scrap.
The three paled, too late to stop, board gone.
Jason turned, cold, "Who'd I authorize this code for?"
"Think an empty board means you slap a number on?"
"Next, you carving your name on a dead man's tombstone?"
No one spoke.
That day, Jason signed:
[Process Code Trusteeship · Temporary Execution Freeze]
- Codes can't be claimed by individual request.
- New codes require Process Front Command review, bound with three endorsers and merit proof.
- "Unbound + blank claim" codes are deemed internal sabotage, person's record erased, permanently barred from code systems.
Expulsion wasn't just "stop desertion."
It became the process system's immune response.
Process wasn't iron plaques—it was a political identity filter:
Not system-approved, not standing, not guarding—you're out.
Even if you're one of us.
Even if yesterday you ate with us, drew guns, issued process.
Covet an "unguarded board," system marks you enemy.
Tu Qing laughed hearing it, tone icy, "Good."
"Finally see process isn't civilization—it's war loot."
"It's what you hold, kill ruthlessly, leave behind."
"Exploit process gaps? Turn their heads into codes."
Section Four: Facade Weaving
The process code wall was finally scrubbed.
Yellow dots—lost, abandoned, frozen boards—flickering on the main map, began fading last night.
Overnight, city code lines shrank a third, zones grayed, broadcasts cut.
Not chaos.
Jason's ordered contraction-restructuring.
He stood at the command console, Iron Valley's code logic web before him.
Codes weren't digits, but names, scars, breaks, costs, wreckage.
Each logged:
Who died;
Who guarded;
Who quit.
Zhao Mingxuan stood aside, silent.
He knew the next words would shift process from "merit list" to full tactical command structure.
Jason pressed the order, "Launch process restructuring."
"No more free-hanging codes."
"All A-tier+ boards will be absorbed by main battle group structures, assigned to legion units."
"Codes enter combat command tables, mapped as directive headers."
System response:
[Process Structure Update · V2.1]
- Code Binding: Process Legions 1-4
- Command Mapping: Each board links an operational unit
- Authority: Holders appointed by legion command, approved only by main control
- Special Ops Codes: Decapitation squads get independent code lines, boards as ID signals and order tokens
Boards became command headers.
Codes stopped marking guarded ground.
They were flags for which team you led, orders issued, battle lines held.
Maria reached the command zone as restructuring hit two-thirds.
She saw codes absorbed into First Legion:
R7 (Tarn)
A13 (Tu Qing)
K22 (Zhao Mingxuan proxy)
She hesitated, "Process militarized just like that?"
Jason didn't turn, "Process was always war's piece."
"You gave it faith, enemies gave it sabotage."
"Only one way to keep it—give it military might."
Process wasn't personal anymore.
Tarn's R7, post-restructuring, joined "Frontline Confrontation Line—East Segment—Crack Alley—3rd Process Support Group."
Tu Qing's A13 became "Decapitation Detachment Special Directive Code," assigned to "Heavy Advance Group," with board-busting charges.
Zhao Mingxuan's K22 lost board status, entering "System-Level Reserve Process Authority Port"—a "semantic board" for process scheduling.
From ground control to line control, people control, command control—codes completed their final shift.
Process wasn't held by whoever planted.
Now it was:
Take a code, go to war.
Guard a process, issue orders.
Issue orders, bleed for them.
Tarn eyed his board's new "3-FWD-1" combat mark, chuckling softly, "Thought I was guarding ground."
"Turns out I'm leading a life."
By nightfall, restructured boards totaled 84.
31 entered frontline combat processes.
20 became special directive ports.
18 joined reserve war plans.
The rest awaited evaluation and assignment.
When codes joined legions, they lost any chance of gentleness.
Next time a code glowed, it wasn't a notice.
It was a combat order.
Process left the streets for the frontlines.
Section Five: Trust and Duty
With codes restructured, the city's command map clarified.
Chaotic boards were now legion-sequenced, no longer randomly planted or seized.
But a new issue surfaced.
The more integrated, calculated, efficient the code system, the more people asked—"Can process still trust people?"
That night, Zhao Mingxuan found an erratic beacon pulse in the main system backend.
Code R17.
A core board on the west bank line, held by deputy team captain "Dumeng," unbroken for three weeks.
At dawn, the code requested "trust release."
System prompt:
"Code R17 executor requested voluntary unbinding."
"Reason: Believes code militarization structure deviates from 'process origin faith,' cannot remain loyal."
"Willing to forfeit code merits and line rights, seeks exit as civilian."
Not retreat or defection.
Abandoning process order.
This letter wasn't just notice—it challenged the "code faith structure" head-on.
Zhao Mingxuan submitted it to Jason, voice hesitant, "He's not a traitor."
"He's questioning process logic."
"Run expulsion?"
Jason read, not answering.
Fuxi flashed a brief note:
[Great Harvest] → [Contention]
"Without shared trust, directives falter."
He spoke, "Process isn't built on loyalty."
"It's built on verifiable loyal acts."
"Not you saying you trust process."
"It's process tracing—did you stand, guard, sacrifice?"
"Next, process won't bind names."
"It'll bind: trust-duty act packages."
The Process Trust Package, ARGUS's second-generation attribution algorithm.
Core logic:
- Executor identity no longer solely decides code ownership.
- Bind trust packages—past guard acts, stand hours, casualty logs, line inheritance, enemy attack records.
- Without executors, system uses trust packages to decide auto-inheritance binding.
Process stopped trusting people.
It trusted acts.
Jason named it: Process Constant Chain.
Process didn't fall with men or live by them.
Like a self-learning command snake, it logged who bled, scarred, or quit.
Next time, it judged: worth glowing?
Tarn fell silent hearing it.
At S-7's east gate by an old board, a new line read:
"Linked to Constant Chain. Trust-Duty Verifying."
He realized:
Process might not need him.
Alive, standing, bleeding—if he didn't hold "when it mattered," the system could pass the board to another.
"Process picking people?" he asked Zhao Mingxuan.
No denial, "Not people."
"Who's worthy to keep calling it 'process.'"
Tu Qing's reaction was blunt.
Hearing the mechanism, he sliced a freshly linked "no-kill record" board in the scrapyard training field.
"Process isn't for learning strength."
"It's—you know from the start, you might die."
"No trial period."
"It's life-or-death."
"Constant? Trust? Talk after the next fight."
By the third morning, process code lines showed "trust-duty cross-feedback."
Codes auto-selected line holders, not waiting for system assignment.
Between S-6 and C-4, seven codes swapped executors without breaks.
Process lived on its own.
It chose who carried it.
Process boards gained will.
That day, Jason wrote the second process directive statement:
"Process belongs to no one."
"Codes aren't claimed by first takers."
"Execution rights follow trust-duty succession."
"From today, you're not process executors—you're its chosen."