"Follow me."
The man who said that swayed— And then fell over dead.
Literally.
I stared at the unsettling sight of his tongue hanging out, then looked at the others, dumbfounded.
"What, does she want us to die?"
"Looks like there was a mistake—" Before we could figure out his intention, the man stood up again.
But this time, instead of standing demurely as before, his limbs flailed about bizarrely, like a puppet on strings. As the man lifted his feet as high as his chest and walked with a strange gait, Thousand Bloods’ jaw dropped.
"This is absurd. To control him anew…"
"You call that control?"
"Yes. It seems that fellow, No. 9, isn't high-ranking enough to be our guide."
"Hm. Is that difficult?"
"Whether it's easy or hard, you, a Puppet, should know better than I. What surprises me is the act of control itself."
Thousand Bloods looked up at the sky, his eyes trembling.
"It's a month's ride from here to the Ten-Thousand Graves Kingdom. Her influence is reaching this exact spot from that distance."
"…What?"
It was so nonsensical that I scowled in disbelief.
"That sounds like you're saying Amya's world is as large as the continent."
"That's how it is. Otherwise, how would you explain that?"