"Wait!!"
Herta #33 quickly pointed at Herta Ninety-Nine in the distance.
Herta Ninety-Nine was alternating between tears of joy and smashing her magic hammer into everything around her.
"Deputy Chief of the space station!! I'm the Deputy Chief of the space station!! I'm the only one granted a name—Herta Ninety-Nine!!"
"I've made it! I've finally made it! Herta Ninety-Nine is no longer just some marginal puppet stuck on the platform!"
The puppets exchanged glances.
"Is Herta Ninety-Nine's system malfunctioning?"
"Looks like she's gone mad. If I remember correctly, there's a classic Xianzhou novel character in a similar state."
"Should we call Madam Herta?"
Herta #3156 quickly stopped Herta #33, who was about to contact the real Herta.
"Let me try. She's just gone crazy with joy. Maybe a good beating will fix her."
Herta #3156 stepped forward and swung her hammer at Herta Ninety-Nine.
"You? Deputy Chief of Herta Space Station?! Herta #99, who do you think you are? Stop dreaming!!"
Bam.
Herta Ninety-Nine caught the hammer with one hand and crushed it effortlessly. She glared coldly.
"How dare you?! I am the Deputy Chief of Herta Space Station! Attack me, and you'll be formatted and sent to the platform by tomorrow!"
Herta #3156 stumbled back, terror on her face.
The other puppets jeered.
"Don't lose face!! Herta #3156!"
"Yeah, Herta #3156, show some spirit!"
Herta #3156 gritted her teeth and shouted at the spectators.
"Stop watching and help me! Her system's fried, her mind's scrambled—but her power's increased! I can't take her alone!"
The other puppets raised their hammers and advanced on Herta Ninety-Nine.
Hundreds of puppets unleashed their ultimate techniques simultaneously.
"Never seen—"
Herta Ninety-Nine cast them a cold glance.
Bam. Bam.
"Spin around!!"
The puppets went flying. Wherever she walked, they fell, groaning.
Herta #33 watched the fallen puppets, murmuring to herself.
The Deputy Chief really is untouchable. But she's so cool. So beautiful. Almost as ridiculous as Madam Herta herself.
Herta Ninety-Nine approached. Herta #33 gazed at her adoringly.
"Ninety-Nine, I'm on your—"
Bam.
She didn't finish. The hammer struck her down.
Herta #3156 surveyed the devastation. Broken puppets everywhere. Mechanical voices whimpering, "System error. Damaged."
"Summon Madam Herta and Station Master Asta!!"
Herta #11 shook his head helplessly.
"Madam Herta is with Ruan Mei. No one can bring her back now."
"Then call Asta."
"Yes!"
Minutes later, Asta arrived with Peppy. Ruin stretched before them—puppet parts scattered, walls crumbling.
Peppy commented.
"Woof... woof woof." (This... this is terrifying. The new Deputy Chief has gone mad?)
Asta sighed helplessly.
"Sigh. Let's find her first."
Peppy shook his head.
"Woof." (No need. Look ahead—the one tossing puppets around.)
Asta spotted Herta Ninety-Nine in the distance. She gasped.
"Ninety-Nine? It's you?!"
Herta Ninety-Nine turned.
"Asta? No. You will address me as Deputy Chief Herta Ninety-Nine."
Asta blinked. Her system's corrupted?
Peppy spoke first.
"Woof." (Are you insane, Herta Ninety-Nine? Asta is the Station Master. You're the Deputy.)
Herta Ninety-Nine froze mid-laugh.
"Station Master Asta?"
Asta waved a hand.
"Just Asta is fine. Herta Ninety-Nine, are you alright? Should I check your system for errors?"
"Station Master... Asta... I... I?!"
Bam.
As her eyes closed, she wondered if it had all been a dream.
A puppet, stuck on the platform too long, finally fantasizing?
Ruan Mei and Herta knew each other for countless Amber Eras. Why would she confess just a few months ago?
And her advising, scheming, earning Herta's praise, rising so fast...
---
Asta examined her carefully.
Peppy looked confused.
"Woof." (Asta, is it really just a system error?)
Asta shook her head.
"Puppet programs and system are both normal. Strange."
Herta #3156 and the others protested.
"Asta, look again! She's definitely broken!"
"Yes! She's acting too human!"
Asta could only sigh.
"Sigh. We'll wait for Madam Herta to return."
At the mention of Madam Herta, every puppet fell silent.
They knew: Herta Ninety-Nine's rise was Madam Herta's doing. Her choice. Her tacit approval.
"Forget it. Our loss."