There were no violent conflicts, no painful struggles; it was as if someone had just flipped a switch and opened a few windows, and a soul had completed its own transformation.
Just then, Tribbie lowered her hands, took a few steps forward, came before Black Herta, and then—opened her arms and gently hugged Black Herta.
"Mom."
She buried her face in Black Herta's shoulder, her voice coming through muffled.
Black Herta's body stiffened: "...Huh?"
She was completely bewildered.
Wasn't she liberated? Hadn't her cognition been restored? Why was she still calling her Mom?
Was she addicted to being a junior?
However, before Black Herta could sort out her thoughts, Tribbie had already released her, stepped back, a relieved smile on her face, looking at her with clear eyes, and said in a light tone:
"Just kidding, Madam Herta."
She tilted her head, a flash of long-lost liveliness in her eyes, which immediately turned into sincere gratitude, "And... thank you. Really."
Black Herta: "..."
She looked at the young girl before her, whose temperament was now completely different, carrying intelligence and a hint of playfulness, and recalling the hug and the joke just now, her mouth finally couldn't help but twitch several times.
"Click."
The door behind her was pushed open again.
Anaxa walked in; he had put away the deep, profound posture from the doorway and returned to his usual seriousness.
He glanced at the transformed Tribbie, his gaze lingering on her clear eyes for a moment, then nodded, giving a brief assessment: "Looks like there are no problems anymore."
Tribbie looked at Anaxa, her smile becoming even brighter: "Thank you, Mr. Anaxagoras."
Her tone was natural and kind, carrying sincere gratitude.
Anaxa merely emitted an ambiguous "humph" from his nose as a response, but his eyes softened considerably.
Watching the smooth and familiar interaction between the two, Black Herta held her forehead, feeling that the amount of information was a bit overwhelming.
"Can someone explain to me what exactly is going on?"
She looked at Anaxa; intuition told her this guy was the key.
Anaxa crossed his arms; this time it wasn't to act cool, but a habitual action.
He met Black Herta's gaze, his face once again displaying that "I know a lot but I'm only going to say a little" expression, his voice deliberately drawn out, appearing very... well, "stylish":
"No rush—"
Black Herta's brow twitched.
Anaxa acted as if he didn't see it, continuing in that tone: "—there's more."
Black Herta: "...?"
Her expression was finally no longer blank.
"What's the situation? There's more?"
Anaxa didn't answer directly, just turned sideways and made a "please" gesture toward the door.
The Astral Express.
Soft light shone through into the carriage, and the atmosphere was peaceful.
But the combination of people sitting in the carriage right now was slightly peculiar.
Madam Herta sat on her usual sofa, holding a cup of coffee just brewed by the system, took a light sip, her gaze carrying scrutiny.
And Anaxa sat brazenly on the single sofa in front of Black Herta, legs crossed, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers against his chin, once again in that "I am pondering important questions" pose.
Big Tribbie was standing in front of the viewing window, leaning forward slightly, curiously examining the points of light from distant nebulae outside the window, her azure eyes filled with novelty, a relaxed smile on her face.
She seemed to have completely adapted to the transition of space, and even quite enjoyed this feeling of "being outside."
In the corner, a figure wearing a large hood was squatting on the ground, looking left and right at a small table with a potted plant.
Under the hood, a pair of furry cat ears twitched from time to time out of curiosity, and a similarly furry cat Tail with ringed patterns swayed gently behind her.
She reached out with her fingerless-gloved hand, carefully touched the leaves of the potted plant, leaned in to sniff the air from the Astral Express's air conditioning vent, and made "tsk tsk" sounds of amazement, as if seeing these ordinary things for the first time.
It was Cipher.
That swift-footed star thief.
She had actually been brought out too.
Black Herta withdrew her gaze and placed the coffee cup gently on the tea table, the ceramic hitting the glass with a crisp "ding."
She leaned forward slightly, her purple-black eyes locking onto him, her tone calm but carrying a sense that would not tolerate evasion:
"Alright. Explain, Anaxa."
"How did you do it? In less than two days, you successfully persuaded and liberated two Golden Descendants who were both in quite special states?"
Hearing this, Anaxa put down his crossed legs, the deliberately deep expression on his face diminished slightly, but there was still a hint of self-satisfaction between his brows.
He didn't immediately begin to explain, but instead slowly and methodically reached into his sleeve, fumbled for a moment, and then pulled out a palm-sized, complex polyhedral device with miniature starlight flowing on its surface, placing it gently on the low table in front of him.
Black Herta's gaze fell upon it, and she recognized it at a glance—it was a simplified "simulated universe" entry device she had earlier placed into Anaxa's containment space.
It lacked the full functionality supported by the supercomputer array in the Herta Space Station, and was more like an interactive "sandbox" and encyclopedia terminal with customizable basic parameters, designed to help Anaxa quickly understand this universe.
"Time."
Anaxa pointed at the device, spitting out the two words concisely.
Black Herta understood.
The simulated universe, as the great creation of Genius Society member Herta, had one of its core features as the controllable adjustment of the internal time flow rate.
This point was indeed mentioned in the plan provided by the system, and theoretically, it could accelerate the "learning" or "adaptation" process of the trapped, but...
"You used it to artificially and significantly slow down the internal perceived time relative to the flow rate of the external main space."
Black Herta stated, her fingertips gently tapping the sofa armrest, "Using an extremely short 'instant' in the external world to trade for a long 'time' internally to conduct... communication?"
Anaxa's head tilted back in a subtle, slow motion, his chin slightly raised, his gaze seemingly piercing through the ceiling of the carriage, looking toward some invisible monument of achievement.
He didn't speak, but that posture clearly said: "Correct, exactly so."
Black Herta watched him in this state, her mouth twitching uncontrollably.
"You..."
She deliberated on her wording, but still felt it was better to be direct, "Is there something wrong with your brain?"
From the moment at the door, his temperament had exuded an indescribable... awkwardness.
It was as if he was trying hard to look unfathomable and meritorious, but it always felt a bit overdone.
"Pfft—"
A stifled chuckle came from the corner.
The cat-eared girl who had been squatting there studying the potted plant—Cipher—had already stood up lightly at some point and strolled over.
The cat pupils under her hood twinkled with mischievous and joyful light, her Tail swaying leisurely behind her.
------------------------
I've posted 70+ chapters in advance on Patreon.
Webnovel updates will still be daily, as usual.
It might not seem tempting right now but who knows what the future holds?
[email protected]/SolyuraMT
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"