The aftermath was eerily quiet.
Sector Zero dimmed to a soft pulse, the once-blinding energy now humming at a steady frequency. Outside the station, the void began to calm—no more dimensional tears, no more screeching Rift creatures clawing at the seams of reality.
Trần Hoàng Nam stepped back from the console, his chest heaving. He felt as though something ancient had passed through him—a force older than war, older than mankind's claim to the stars.
Lan leaned against the wall, her breathing shallow. "Did we... did it work?"
Nam looked up at the monitors. The Rift had collapsed into itself—folded, sealed, silenced. "For now."
They both knew the price of such a victory. The signal from the station had not just activated a long-dead defense grid—it had echoed across the known galaxy.
Across the bridge of the Hệ Tinh Vân flagship Nemesis, alarms blared. General Bùi Hữu Hoàng stared at the incoming transmission with disbelief.
"That's impossible," he hissed. "Sector Zero is operational?"
His lieutenant nodded grimly. "And the Reclaimer Protocol has been triggered. All outer sectors are responding. Ancient Earth codes."
Hoàng's eyes narrowed. "Trần Hoàng Nam is alive."
Back at Sector Zero, a new signal began broadcasting. Not from the Rift, but from beyond it. A frequency untouched by human hands. Strange patterns filled the screens—symbols, sounds, a language no one had heard before.
Lan stared. "That's not us."
Nam stepped closer. The signals pulsed rhythmically—mathematical, deliberate.
"It's a message," he murmured. "From... the other side."
Lan's voice was hushed. "The Rift was a door."
Nam nodded slowly. "And now... they know we're here."
Far across the void, on a world no map had ever marked, something stirred. Machines buried beneath crystal skies hummed with awakening power. A civilization forgotten by time, hidden by design, had heard Earth's voice again after millennia.
And they were responding.
The Voiceless Universe was no longer silent.