episode_0021

was performed alternately three or four times.

And finally, when all the knights within the fortress had finished watching without exception,

“Cough!”

“Damn it! Run away!”

“Why are those guys acting like that all of a sudden?!”

On the northern front, the desperate screams of the demons suddenly began to echo.

The Paladin unit, which was clearly in a state of decline not long ago.

Because their fighting spirit suddenly soared to explosive levels.

“Wowwoww-!!!”

Knights wielding swords, shields, maces and axes run wild across the battlefield.

Inside the solid helmet, a fierce gaze filled with fanaticism burns like a flame.

In a frenzy that was almost like a demonstration, they kept chanting one slogan.

“A person with strong faith-!!”

“Cutting the sea with a stick Aaaah-!!!”

“, what the hell are you talking about all of a sudden, ugh!!”

The demon soldiers, unaware of the knights’ true intentions, simply wander around in confusion and get cut down.

Of course, some units were so enthusiastic that they allowed the enemy to surround them.

I was so excitedly cutting and striking that I ended up going too deep into the enemy territory.

But even though the demons blocked their retreat, the knights were not afraid at all.

“Wow-!!”

“Dolgyeooo-!!!”

Rather, they rushed to the forefront and charged straight toward the encirclement.

He broke through the enemy lines by force and escaped, reproducing the miracle of the Red Sea on his own.

A crazy tactic also known as ‘Shimazu’s Retreat’ in the original world where Phantom lived.

What made this possible was not a burst of courage or martial arts honed over years, but a single word:

“Those who have strong faith-!!”

“Cutting the sea with a stick aaa-!!!”

As a result of these crazy records accumulating, the situation has turned completely around from a few days ago.

Now, we have reached a point where we have to worry about the Demons being pushed back and losing their stronghold.

Thanks to this, the Demon Clan leaders, who had thought they would soon be able to break through the iron fortress, could not help but be greatly embarrassed.

“Cutting the sea with a stick? What the hell is this nonsense!”

Boom! The enraged commander slams his fist into the conference table.

He growled, his pitch-black eyes flashing with the characteristic glow of the Demon Race.

“Just two days ago, they were half-dead corpses! But why did they suddenly turn into these killing machines!”

“I’m sorry, but even the curators have a way of finding out the details… … ”

“Oh, shit!”

The commander was gnashing his teeth, as there was no way to overcome the division.

The unified prediction of the staff was that even if it was not possible, a southward advance would be possible within this year.

Didn’t even the staff members, whose strategy hit rate was as high as that of a pair of tongs, all agree with this?

What kind of variable came into play to completely ruin everything… …

Then one of the adjutants reported as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him.

“Commander! According to our intelligence, Saint Beatrice has brought someone to visit the Iron Fortress! ”

“Who? Who on earth did you bring?”

“That, that’s not certain… … If it’s as the spy claims, it seems like they performed some kind of strange ritual! They say that unidentified music and songs flowed out of the fortress every day! They even heard cries for God!”

The demons mistook the choir’s singing, the actors’ lines, and the knights’ cheers for some strange ritual they didn’t understand.

In fact, this misunderstanding was not entirely without foundation.

After all, theater is an art form that originated from a sacrificial ritual to communicate with nature and the divine.

Ancient people sang songs praising the gods and danced in hopes of receiving blessings.

A series of actions that pray for the prosperity and peace of the community gradually became systematized and established as a genre called theater.

Didn’t even the knights who watched literally go crazy and howl as if they were going to faint?

There would be few people who would hear this and not misunderstand that some kind of suspicious ritual had been performed.

“Consciousness? Consciousness? No way… … !”

The corps commander’s face turns ashen after hearing his subordinate’s report.

He muttered in a furious voice, his fists shaking.

“Humans, have you succeeded? Research on ancient magic that can brainwash people into doing what you want by shackling their minds?”

When I think about it that way, everything is explained surprisingly well.

The more distant the spell was completed, the more fearsome and powerful it is.

We’ve heard many stories about people struggling to restore past magic that was lost in the Magic Tower.

However, this is a trick that even the best magicians of the Demon Tribe have a hard time using.

Moreover, aren’t humans a species with a shorter lifespan and a severe lack of talent compared to the demon race?

It was predicted that it would take centuries to even attempt to crudely imitate, let alone restore, the ancient magic.

“… … For now, let’s give up on this stronghold. The brainwashed knights will soon finish regrouping and come rushing in. ”

The commander glares, trying hard to suppress his anger.

He looked around at his subordinates and gave instructions in a solemn tone.

“And hurry up and organize the situation and report it to the higher-ups! A wicked magician who can control the minds of humans has appeared! We must quickly identify him and prepare countermeasures!”

The Phantom who wrote the religious play at the request of Saint Beatrice.

Without even knowing it, he was labeled as the most dangerous person by the demons.

“You’ve worked really hard, Phantom.”

The day we safely completed the performance schedule and returned to the capital.

The saint approached me with a warm smile and bowed her head gently.

“I guess it was a good idea to leave the job to you. Now the northern front will boast an ironclad defense for at least a century. The knights have all regained their former morale.”

“That’s fortunate.”

To this I replied with a bewildered smile.

Now, wherever you go, it is an iron fortress where only ‘Hallelujah!’ and ‘Immanuel!’ loudly echo.

I was a little confused as to whether I should like the Paladins who were so motivated that they were almost over their capacity.

In particular, the catchphrases shouted as if they had been brainwashed after seeing Moses’ miracles were truly amazing.

‘You can’t divide the sea with a stick, you rascals.’

Although they openly encouraged over-immersion, I was worried because it far exceeded expectations.

Aren’t you all just believing in miracles that don’t happen and getting hurt?

Or do you just jump off a cliff without thinking, thinking that you won’t die if you just have faith?

“But Phantom? Have you ever studied theology in the past?”

“Theology?”

“You have implemented the miracles that the ancient saints are said to have performed in a more creative way than I thought. Since it is such a fragmentary case, it would be knowledge that only priests who have studied the Bible would not know.”

The saintess, lost in ominous thoughts, looked at me with her eyes slightly open and asked.

“Well, it is said that in the distant past, saints used the power of the gods to cause landslides and hurricanes, and even cause earthquakes on the bare ground.”

……omg?

“The existing natural objects are included in the providence of God. Therefore, it is theoretically possible to reconstruct the natural objects based on faith. Of course, it would require a lot of holy power to divide the vast ocean like Moses.”

“… … ”

“Well, it’s an ancient event with unclear records. If it were possible today, the priests would have gone out and subdued the demons outside the fortress. Right?”

“Hahaha, I see, I guess so.”

Landslides, hurricanes, and earthquakes?

It’s scary, the ancient saints of this world. Even if they’re not Moses-level, they’re almost like living nuclear weapons.

“… … The pen is mightier than the sword, ra. I think I finally understand what you meant, Phantom. ”

Looking at that day, the saintess said quietly.

“The fight between Moses with a staff and Pharaoh with a sword. In the end, Moses won. And the story of Moses also created miracles in real life. The power of the sword cannot be ignored, but sometimes, a pen that seems insignificant is more powerful.”

No, well. I didn’t write it with that kind of profound idea in mind. I just reproduced the actions of Moses in the Old Testament as they were.

Still, I didn’t feel bad because I felt like I was being treated like a famous philosopher.

From the selection of materials to the final result, it’s all a series of coincidences, but don’t they say that when coincidences overlap, it’s fate?

“Right. Do you remember, Phantom?”

At that moment, the saint clapped her hands as if something had just occurred to her.

“If you are satisfied with this work, you said you would give me additional non-material compensation?”

“Oh, yes. I remember.”

“I will definitely keep my promise. So please continue to work on your works in the future. Got it?”

“Of course. I will definitely do that.”

Leaving the smiling saint behind, I moved to the location where the teleportation circle was located.

There’s probably nothing left to see in this cold, barren fortress.

Because I wanted to return to the warm and cozy Bronde dormitory as soon as possible.

Phantom.

A man who was deeply imprinted in her heart by this one incident.

Beatrice silently grasped the jeweled cross, repeating his name.

“There was definitely an unusual reason.”

Now I realize why his soul was taking on a form I had never seen before.

He was a being who carried out God’s calling with a pen.

Some spread miracles through the gospel, some through pilgrimage, and some through the sword.

If I had to name him, Phantom would be a savior who preaches miracles with a sharp pen.

‘Perhaps Moses is more than a reinterpretation of an ancient saint; he is his own self-portrait.’

Moses and the staff, and the Phantom and the fountain pen.

In fact, I had a strong suspicion that the play itself might be a sophisticated metaphor for his own calling.

… … If the Phantom himself had heard it, it would have been a leap of logic that would have made him faint, but for Saint Beatrice, it had already become a certainty.

‘It would be too small a thank you to catch a few copycats.’

Siluk. Beatrice raised the corners of her lips in satisfaction and placed both hands on her chest as if praying.

“If it is a reward that suits you, it would be an even greater honor.”

“… … What did you just say?”

“Hmm, that’s what I mean.”

A few days after returning from the northern fortress of Iron Wall.

Maurice holds out something with a bewildered expression, as if he himself can’t believe it.

A small parcel arrived from the Imperial State Post Office.

The guy spoke carefully as he opened the package with a letter cleaver.

“You’ve officially registered as a candidate for the warrior?”

Sparkling. An elaborate medal made of orichalcum, the most precious of precious metals.

On its surface was written a single line of scripture along with a quill design in relief.

The pen is mightier than the sword.

‘Pen’s’ warrior (candidate), Phantom

No, what on earth is the warrior of the pen doing?