The world did not wait. While Mirshad slept, while the island kept its silent watch, while his soul wandered somewhere no human eye could follow, his teams never stopped. From the moment he vanished into the pyramid, the Reapers, the engineers and the dreamers had taken the reins. What had once been a promise spoken on a stage became a reality beneath every sky. Across the continents, in the dust of villages and the glare of cities, the one-month promise had been delivered. In India, a man stepped into his first home. The floor was clean, the kitchen full, the air fresh. He stood in the doorway, his hands trembling. "I don't even know what this switch does," he said, "but it's mine. Because of him." In Africa, a little girl held her mother's hand as they walked into her new school. "Mama, it's beautiful. Is this real?" she asked. Her mother didn't answer. She just looked up at the sky. In Palestine, a boy who had only known sirens now slept in peace. Above his window, a digital banner scrolled in quiet certainty — Welcome Home – Protected by MRD. In Brazil, streets came alive with music and movement. People danced, waving banners that read He gave us breath. He gave us ground. Overhead, drones scattered messages like blessings — Build. Heal. Love. You are not alone anymore.
Every news network in the world ran daily updates. "MRD's transformation complete — thirty-seven million families now housed." "Global debt erased. Citizens funded to start new lives." "Education systems overhauled. Millions of children enrolled for free." "Hunger level dropped to its lowest point in modern history." Cameras captured voices from every corner of the earth. A man in Syria said, "He doesn't speak to us. But his silence changed everything." A woman in Detroit said, "We never knew his face. But he gave us a future." A boy in Kenya smiled shyly into the camera. "I don't want to be MRD," he said. "I want to work for him."
On the island, Mirshad had not asked a single question. He spent his days in quiet, sometimes on the rooftop, sometimes in the garden, sometimes simply sitting with the sword across his knees as if waiting for it to speak. Sophia was often with him. She never asked what he saw inside the pyramid, never asked about the world outside, because she knew — his body was here, but his mind was still waking. One night, the family spoke softly in the lounge. Amir said, "The world is celebrating, but he hasn't even asked what happened." Rayyan replied, "He will. He just needs to understand… where he's been." Baba's voice was low. "Or who he is."
Another night, he stood at the edge of the island alone, the waves breaking softly below, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Sophia came to his side. He spoke first, his voice quiet. "Did we do it? Did they get everything I promised?" She smiled gently. "Yes. And more." He nodded once, but his gaze did not leave the sea. "Good… because I still don't understand where I was." The world had changed, the people were saved, the storm had returned — but deep inside his heart, the question still remained.