"Chief Divine! The sunset, how beautiful! Just like... uh... blood-red cocoa?..."
As evening approached, the red sun set over the distant hills, as if casting a blood-red glow on the pyramid, with an inexplicable sense of sanctity and peculiarity. At this moment, Woodpecker Aitz wanted to recite a poem, but couldn't think of an opening line. Similarly, as he looked at the pile of 'mountain goods' in front of him, he wanted to curse, but didn't know what to curse.
"Damn it! You call these 'mountain goods'?"
"Yeah! Chief Divine bears witness! This is the mountain goods from our fifteen flag brigades, tens of thousands of people! Just say it, aren't they good stuff?!"
