The Name That Cut the Sky
The system had remained silent for twenty-four hours after the Cut. Military transmissions, analysis forums, automated reports... all repeated the same question: who did it?
Until, without warning, the central network of the Survival System issued a global notification visible on every high-level terminal, observation screen, command room, and public civilian network:
[Entity Eliminated: S+ Beast / Oceanic Turtle with Hexacellular Shell][Ability Used: Void Blade – Rank SS+][Registered Operator: ROB – GUARDIAN OF THE SOUTH]
There was no music. No anthem. Just white letters on a black background.But the world… changed.
In Japan, a history teacher stopped her class when she saw the transmission. She silenced her students with a gesture. On the floating screen at the front of the classroom, Rob's image appeared between lines of data and a compressed recording of the exact moment the turtle was split in two.
"Children," the teacher said, her voice trembling, "that's Rob. The one who did it."
No one spoke. Only one boy, tears in his eyes, whispered:
"I thought he was just a legend."
In Germany, the Munich bastion held a silent vigil. No instructions. No government. Just citizens of all ages sitting in front of the central dome's screen, watching the same Cut on loop.
An elderly woman held her grandson's hand and murmured:
"Now we know his name. Now we know there's hope."
In Egypt, a young Guardian with the Solar Reflection ability fell to his knees in the middle of training.
"At last..." he said with a trembling voice. "At last we know who he is. The one we were waiting for… was already here."
From a floating observation station in the southern Indian Ocean, a group of refugees from Brazil —a country erased from the map— watched the broadcast.
One of them, a curly-haired teenager, clutched his chest as tears fell.
"He was from the South… like us."
In a secluded ancient base in the Himalayas, Alex —the powerhouse warrior who once fought beside Rob in a past life— shattered his training bar upon seeing the Cut.
"No way…"
Thea, the field strategist, slowly approached. She didn't speak at first. She just watched the replay —the precision of the Cut, the steadiness of the gesture.
"It's him," she murmured. "Rob."
Alex clenched his teeth, caught between anger, admiration, and shame.
"He never stopped fighting… not even when we did."
Atop a tower in Montreal, the Canadian Guardian for territorial defense dropped his ceremonial sword to the ground.
"The one who cut the sky… has a name. And he's no god. He's a human."
And in a small command room in northern India, an emotional technician typed a single line into his personal terminal:
"Thank you, Rob. For cutting through the darkness."
Across every corner of the world, Rob's name stopped being an unknown. It stopped being a rumor.It became a symbol, an anchor, a beacon.
And with that… it began transforming into something even more powerful than fear:Inspiration.
Reactions from the Guardians
In the world of Guardians, respect isn't earned through words, but through actions.And Rob's Cut… was an act that thundered across every bastion on the planet.
In a U.S. underground dome, General Naomi Rains —known as "The Fortress of Kansas"— watched the system's recording on repeat. Her A+ ability, Dynamic Mass, allowed her to control gravitational fields, but even she couldn't comprehend how a single man had split an S+ creature without visible physical effort.
"That cut…" she whispered. "It redefines everything. From today on, we don't train to survive. We train to reach him."
In the ice temple of Novosibirsk, Russia, Guardian Alexei —wrapped in a thermal cloak made of nanofibers and frost— clenched his fists before the altar of his bastion.
"Thank God…" he said in a deep voice. "We're not alone."
In Egypt's White Desert, Commander Salma al-Khatib, protector of the Oasis of the Sun, summoned a circle of solar fire around herself. The heat was suffocating, but her gaze remained fixed on the frozen image of the Cut.
"Finally," she said, as tears evaporated before reaching her cheeks. "Someone who doesn't seek power… but justice."
In the ruins of Brazil, where no bastion remained, a group of survivors watched the footage on a salvaged monitor. One of them, a young exile named Thiago, placed a hand on his chest.
"That man came from the South… like us. And he showed the world that we can still rise."
At a hidden fortress in the Himalayas, Alex and Thea —Rob's old allies— were still processing the truth. They had seen the Cut. They had felt it. Not just in the image, but in their souls.
"Rob... is alive," Thea murmured, her eyes wet.
"And stronger than ever," Alex added, with a mix of pride and pain. "We left him alone. And still…"
Thea shook her head, swallowing hard.
"He never left us. He just kept going."
In northern Norway, at a hidden academy nestled among glaciers, a red-haired teenager with light eyes watched the footage for the first time.
His name was Erick. Son of a fishing family, orphaned since the early days of the Collapse, he had trained as a Guardian out of necessity —not choice.
But upon seeing that Cut… a lone man facing the terror of the world and walking away with no glory, no arrogance…
"For the first time," he whispered, gripping his improvised spear, "it feels worth it. That… I can change something too."
No one answered. But in his chest, something lit up.And that spark… was igniting in thousands —in tens of thousands— across the planet.
Rob, without knowing it, had done more than cut down a beast.He had united the Guardians of the world with a single question:
"What would happen if we walked toward him… instead of competing against him?"
Between Envy and Hope
The impact of the Cut didn't just stir the hearts of the people or ignite the spark in young Guardians.It also shook the shadows of politics.In sealed rooms, soundproof bunkers, and encrypted video conferences, emergency meetings multiplied.
At the Ottawa Bastion in Canada, six regional leaders debated behind closed doors.
"This isn't a celebration," said one of them. "It's a strategic problem. If one person can do that…"
"…they can also overthrow any authority," completed a white-haired woman. "No matter his intentions. The symbol is already out of control."
"The real issue," sighed another, "is that he's done nothing wrong. He doesn't lead, doesn't impose. He just protects."
Silence.
And for all of them… that was the most frightening part.
In South Korea, Guardian Cho Min-seok —renowned for his advanced thermal manipulation— watched the footage of the Cut in silence.He was competitive, methodical, proud.For years, he had viewed all Guardians as rivals, only worthy if they could fall in battle.
But that image… that calm… that pure, clean justice...
"It wasn't a show of power," he murmured. "It was a declaration of principles."
One of his apprentices asked if he thought he could surpass Rob.
Cho didn't reply immediately. For the first time in years… he had no automatic answer.
"Maybe it's not about surpassing him," he finally said. "Maybe it's about understanding him."
In South Africa, a reconnaissance Guardian named Ayanda summoned her colleagues at the Cape Bastion.She had always been skeptical.She didn't believe in heroes.She didn't trust redemption.
But something in that scene… in that lone man facing the impossible… moved her.
"Maybe…" she whispered, "maybe there's still room for faith. But not blind faith. The kind you earn."
In a secured base in Finland, Henrik —a mental-type Guardian known for being cold and calculating— crossed his arms as he watched the global reactions.
"This Rob…" he said with cynicism, "has the world enchanted."
But his voice lacked its usual hardness.His tone wasn't so firm anymore.Because, though he wouldn't admit it aloud… something inside him had cracked.
And deep in his consciousness, Henrik thought:
"What if I've been wrong all this time?"
In public and private circles, a phrase began to spread.No author. No source. Just a message echoing everywhere:
"It's not about being like Rob. It's about being the best version of ourselves."
And that thought… was changing the world more than any Cut ever could.
Murals, Songs, and Letters
Not all echoes of the Void Cut manifested through uniforms or training.Some were simpler.More human.
In destroyed neighborhoods and underground shelters, in isolated stations and the ruins of vanished cities, ordinary people began to speak… to create… to sing.
In the Philippines, in a partially flooded fishing village, a nine-year-old girl painted on a cracked wall using natural pigments.Her mural depicted a black figure with a glowing sword cutting through a storm.Above it, she wrote:
"The one who cut the sky also opened the way for us."
The image was shared by a rescue operator.Within an hour, it was projected in public squares on the other side of the world.
In an underground shelter in Mexico, a group of children organized an improvised play.The narrator, her voice trembling but steady, said:
"Once upon a time, there was a man who didn't seek fame… but the sky listened to him anyway."
The adults who watched it cried without knowing why.
In Canada, at a semi-buried base in the northern ice, a girl wrote a letter with a trembling hand:
"Hi Rob. I don't know if you can read this. But thank you for not disappearing like the others. Thank you for continuing."
Her mother helped digitize it and send it through the global open channel.The letter was viewed by more than eight million people in a single day.
In India, a rural community renamed its informal bastion.Previously called "Eastern Resistance," they now baptized it:
"Fortress of the Void."
A village elder explained:
"We don't do this out of worship. We do it because if a man can cut space itself to protect us… then we can cut through despair to survive."
In Rio de Janeiro, among ruins and ashes, survivors remained.Exiles. The silenced.
One of them painted a mural on a half-collapsed wall.He didn't use color.Only charcoal.
It was Rob, sword descending.Behind him, a mother protected her children.Above them, an inscription:
"We are not what we lost. We are what we decide to keep becoming."
And so, without Rob knowing,his name became a hymn,a canvas,a source of comfort.
And the world, which until then had only been a witness,began…to respond.
The Light of the South
At the central base of South America, the atmosphere was a strange mix of reverent silence and contained emotion.The broadcast of the Cut had arrived without warning. Everyone had seen it.Over and over again.The moment Rob stepped forward.The black blade.The sky splitting apart.And then… silence.
Victoria was sitting in the communications room, Amélie on her lap and Matthew at her side.Despite the constant repetition of the images, they didn't grow tired of watching.
Amélie, with her soft little voice, looked at the screen and then at her mother:
"Mommy, Daddy is amazing, right?"
Victoria smiled, tears in her eyes, and hugged her daughter.
"Yes, sweetheart. The best!"
Matthew, with a gaze more mature than his age should allow, clenched his fists.
"I want to be like him."
Victoria looked at him.
"Then start by being brave, by taking care of others. That's also being like your dad."
Outside the command center, technicians, medics, and Guardian apprentices had gathered spontaneously.Some cried.Others applauded silently.A nurse placed a candle in the center of the main courtyard with an improvised inscription:
"Thank you for giving us one more day of peace."
José, Rob's old companion, watched from a high railing.Beside him, María, his wife, held a muted communicator.
"Where do we go from here?" she asked.
José smiled faintly.
"Wherever he leads us. But for the first time… not out of necessity. Out of choice."
That night, in the intimacy of her room, Victoria and Rob spoke via direct call.Not about strategies.Not about Guardians.Just about them.
"Did you get the children's letters?" she asked.
"Yes," Rob replied warmly. "And I cried like a child when I read yours."
"You didn't go looking for another woman in the middle of all those travels, huh?" Victoria teased.
Rob laughed.
"Another woman? I only have eyes for you. It's always been that way."
Victoria closed her eyes, smiling.
And for a moment… the world felt human again.
The Shadows That Still Don't Speak
While Rob's name spread like wildfire across nations and hearts, there were still corners of the world where silence ruled.
In Antarctica, in a base completely disconnected from the system, a tall, solitary figure watched the footage on an old device.His face was hidden by a metallic mask.His eyes, invisible, glowed behind the lenses.
"So… it was him."
There was no hatred in his voice. But neither was there devotion.
"It's not time yet," he murmured."But if he has awakened… then I will soon as well."
In Central Africa, beneath a temple buried by the jungle, a glowing core began to pulse.The walls breathed.The system's symbols lit up without any human control.
[Dormant Entity: Root Core][Estimated Awakening: 37 days]
An old man sweeping the temple's entrance stopped as he felt the change.
"The world has been shaken by a cut… but it hasn't yet seen the true edge."
In a dark room, deep inside a deactivated satellite, an artificial intelligence long classified as dead reactivated.
[Initiating Alternative Observation Protocol][Unit Analysis: Rob – Incomplete][Possibility: Cycle-ending Catalyst Agent]
And in a plane belonging neither to the physical world nor to the digital one, a formless shadow watched as humanity began to rise.It didn't speak.It didn't move.It just waited.
Because while everyone celebrated Rob…
The true enemy had yet to reveal its face.
The World That Stands Up
In every bastion, every shelter, every region where life still endured, something had changed.It wasn't victory.It wasn't euphoria.It was something deeper. Older.
Willpower.
In Japan, an elderly woman who had lost her entire family took her cane, stepped out of her tent, and began sweeping the entrance.When asked why, she replied:
"Because if he keeps fighting, then I can keep this ground clean for those who survive."
In Germany, a five-year-old girl convinced her older brother to organize a "training" session to protect their street.With wooden sticks, they mimicked Rob's cutting motion.Each day, more children joined.
One day, one of the parents cried upon seeing them.Not from sadness.But because, for the first time... they heard real laughter.
In the devastated region of East Africa, a group of survivors decided to rebuild a fallen tower.Not for defense.But as a symbol.They named it: "Tower of the South."
A handmade sign was placed at the front:
"The sky spoke. We listened. Now we respond."
In the old underground tunnels of Norway, where hope was thought to be lost, a young Guardian named Erick trained alone.Until that day, she had never felt it was worth it.
But after seeing the cut… hearing Rob's name… witnessing how the world had changed from a single just act…
She smiled for the first time in years.
"Now I know why I get up."
In France, a former skeptic turned envoy wrote in his report:
"It's not just Rob's power.It's the echo he left behind.It's the echo of those who thought they were alone…and discovered they were not."
From every corner of the planet, messages began to flood in—requests, communications, voice notes, even drawings.Some asked if they could train in his name.Others simply said:
"Thank you."
And in the system, for the first time in weeks, a non-forced change appeared:
[Global Cooperation Module – Manually Activated][Interconnected Bastion Network: 24 / 82]
The world hadn't won.But now, it no longer crawled.
It was standing up.
And high atop his bastion, gazing at the sky with his sword sheathed, Rob thought:
"We're no longer echoes of the past.Now… we are the voice of tomorrow."
(End of Chapter 28 – The Name That Shook the World)