Splitting turns one document into several — a hundred-page batch of invoices becoming a hundred separate invoices, or a long report cut into the sections people actually need. The document you opened is never changed; what you get back is a set of new files.
There are three ways to cut, and you pick the one that matches the job. One file per page is the simplest: every page becomes its own file. Every N pages starts a new file at a fixed interval — every two pages, every ten, whatever you set — which suits documents that come in even chunks. Cut before chosen pages is the flexible one: you name the pages where a new file should begin, and the document breaks there.
For that last mode you type the pages the way you would write them — “3, 5, 8” — and each becomes the first page of a new file. So “3, 5, 8” on a ten-page document gives you pages 1–2, then 3–4, then 5–7, then 8–10. If you name a page the document does not have, it says so rather than quietly dropping it.
The panel tells you how many files you are about to make before it makes them — “You will get 4 files” — so you are never guessing, and you can change the mode and watch that number change until it is what you want. Nothing happens until you run it.
People split for a handful of reasons, and the flow is the same for all of them: pulling one chapter out of a manual to read on a phone, breaking a bundle into the parts different people need, or separating a scanned stack back into individual documents. In each case the pages keep their order and their content, and any notes or form answers you had already made are carried along.
What comes out is named predictably. A single file downloads on its own; several arrive together as one zip, and the panel says which is about to happen before you commit.
Your original file is not modified. Everything runs in this browser, with no upload and no page limit.