"The Dark Moon Pope of Ilyushil, his timing is quite precise indeed."
MacDonald's chubby face was scrunched up into a grin as he respectfully bowed his head towards the coffin, whispering softly to Archbishop Louis beside him.
This archbishop was rather short, only reaching MacDonald's height when he wore the religiously significant white crown.
Unlike MacDonald, he didn't like to wear a smile.
But at this moment, a faint red glow was visible in his eyes.
"The timing is one thing..."
Louis responded softly to his colleague.
"But whether he transformed Ilyushil into its proper form in the plan is another matter entirely."
"Ah, Louis. You should have more faith in Shalivan," MacDonald seemed quite confident in the Dark Moon Pope. "He is truly our 'brother' sharing the same faith."
And the object of their faith was now crawling out of the coffin.
