The perspective shifts back to the Herta Family residence. After hesitating at the entrance, Newman finally stepped inside, having thoroughly checked himself for any signs of being under an illusion.
Either the person using Illusion Art is far more powerful than me, making resistance futile, or... is everything before me actually real?
As soon as Newman slipped off his shoes, the Little Herta beside him immediately sprang into action. To his horror, she took his shoes and neatly placed them on the shoe rack.
Newman's lips trembled slightly. Just then, footsteps approached, and another Little Herta carrying a mop walked past him into the bathroom.
"Three Little Hertas?!" The sight sparked a reasonable possibility in Newman's mind: Could these Little Hertas be clones?
But that didn't quite add up. Would anyone use magic to summon clones just to have them do housework while dressed as maids?
Gripped by intense confusion, Newman took a few more steps forward and saw Herta No. 002—the one he knew so well—standing in the living room, surrounded by three other Little Hertas dressed as maids.
Just as Newman was about to ask a question, a horrifying scene unfolded before him. The three Little Hertas—one gripping No. 002's head, another her left hand, and the third her right—proceeded to dismember her right there and then!
"Hoh—!" Newman gasped, sucking in a sharp breath of air. The strange noise seemed to draw the attention of the three maid-clad Little Hertas, who turned their vacant, lifeless eyes toward him in unison.
The scene was straight out of a horror movie, a classic trope that froze Newman in place, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
But this wasn't a horror story. A moment later, Herta Herself emerged from the adjacent bedroom, yawning and waving casually at Newman. "Make yourself at home," she said.
"Ah... ah?!" Newman remained frozen, staring at the suddenly appearing "stranger." Her casual familiarity only intensified his confusion. His gaze darted across the group of Little Hertas before settling on the unfamiliar woman lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone.
It was clear: the stranger bore an uncanny resemblance to Herta. They could have been mother and daughter, or perhaps this was simply Herta grown up. But Newman had investigated Herta's records—she was an orphan. So... he opened his mouth and addressed the Herta, "Are you Herta?"
Herta glanced up at Newman, resting her chin casually on her hand. "Not too slow on the uptake," she remarked. "As you can see, these Little Hertas are merely puppets I created. Until now, I've been communicating with you through them."
Newman's eyebrows furrowed into a sharp V. Such a short sentence, yet it contained an astonishing amount of information. The most terrifying implication was that Herta had recently exchanged blows with Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain for half an hour—using nothing more than a puppet she had crafted herself!
While Queen Elizabeth had clearly held back during the battle, Herta had done the same! Even excluding the destroyed No. 002, five identical puppets remained.
Moreover, common sense dictated that the original should far surpass any clone or puppet in power.
Newman couldn't help but imagine what would happen if Herta actually went to war with Great Britain. Queen Elizabeth would defeat one Little Herta, thinking she had won, only for another to pop out from some hidden corner.
This cycle would repeat endlessly, with the queen slaughtering waves of minions until the final boss, Herta Herself, leisurely appeared.
That's way too much of a villainous trope, he thought.
He quickly dismissed this strange fantasy and asked, "So, why did you have the puppets bring me here?"
Herta casually replied, "What do you mean, 'I had them'? I simply ordered the puppets to return home and logged off. You're the one who followed them, you know."
Newman was speechless. He watched the three maid-like Little Hertas continue dismantling No. 002 and asked, "What are they doing?"
"Upgrading its configuration," Herta blurted out, then elaborated, "This puppet ran out of power. I figured I might as well upgrade its AI system while I'm at it. That way, all the puppets can use the hundred-plus spells I just learned."
Newman fell silent again, another bombshell of information to process.
So, all the magic Herta used in her battle against Queen Elizabeth was truly learned on the spot?
And if Herta's implication was true—that she possessed far more than just these five Puppets—Newman couldn't fathom the implications. If each Puppet could hold its own against Queen Elizabeth for half an hour, what if there were ten, a hundred, or even a thousand such Puppets?
Without a doubt, no nation on Earth could withstand such an army!
But that wasn't all. As he observed the scene before him, it became clear that these Puppets could be upgraded. And since Herta could instantly master any magic she witnessed, it wouldn't be long before every Puppet possessed mastery over all the magic in the world.
Staring at the beautiful girl before him, whose flawless features defied criticism from any angle, Newman felt a chill seep into his bones, as if he'd plunged into an icy cavern. This was the emotion called fear.
When a genius aces every exam, skips grades, and effortlessly rakes in awards—or even makes a fortune by casually starting a company—people only feel envy. But when that genius invents nuclear weapons, or creates an ultimate weapon that can destroy the entire world with the press of a button...
It wasn't envy anymore, but fear.
When someone reached this level of genius, were they truly human? Or were they a god masquerading in human skin?
But in the next moment, Herta blinked her dazzling amethyst eyes and turned to Newman. "Hmm? Why are you still standing? Don't be shy—make yourself at home and sit wherever you like."
Simultaneously, a Little Herta puppet placed two steaming cups of freshly brewed tea on the coffee table in front of Newman.
The divine aura shattered. To Newman's surprise, the super-genius before him was unexpectedly approachable, even more so than her puppets.
Newman's gaze darted between Herta Herself and Puppet No. 002. "You... you're really Herta?"
Herta instantly understood his confusion. "Oh, that's because when I designed this puppet, I added a rather unreasonable module to her programming."
Newman blinked. "?"