I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy – Chapter 21

✦  Chapter 21 – Moses (5)  ✦

「Translator – Creator」

𒋝𒋝𒋝𒋝𒋝

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<Exodus> was performed over the course of several performances.

And finally, after every single paladin within the fortress had watched the play….

“Gah!”

“D-damn it! Retreat! ”

“What’s gotten into them?!”

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

Not long ago, the paladin unit had been demoralized and wilting.

But now, their fighting spirit was a force to be reckoned with.

“Forwaaaard!”

They charged into battle, their swords, shields, maces, and axes flashing in the sunlight; their eyes, visible through the slits in their helmets, burned with a fanatical zeal.

In their divinely inspired fervor, they chanted a single phrase over and over again.

“Those with unwavering faith—!”

“Can part the sea with a staff! ”

“W-what are they talking about— Agh! ”

Confused and overwhelmed, the demons were cut down in droves.

Some paladins, overcome by religious zeal, charged too deep into enemy lines, allowing themselves to be surrounded.

However, even when the demons blocked their retreat, the paladins showed no fear.

“Charge—!”

“Break through—!!!”

Instead of surrendering, they doubled down, smashing through the enemy ranks and escaping back to their own lines, reenacting the parting of the Red Sea.

It was a strategy that, in Phantom’s original world, was known as the “Shimazu Retreat”, a reckless but effective tactic.

What made it possible wasn’t courage or skill, but a single, powerful phrase—

“Those with unwavering faith—!”

“Can part the sea with a staff! ”

Due to the accumulation of these bizarre achievements, the situation on the battlefield completely reversed from just a few days ago.

Now, it was the demons who were being pushed back, losing ground and scrambling to defend their strongholds.

Thanks to this, the demon high command, who once thought they could breach the impregnable fortress any day now, were left in utter confusion.

“Part the sea with a staff? What in the abyss are they talking about?!”

Bang—!

The legion commander slammed his fist on the table, his black eyes burning with rage.

“Just two days ago, they were half-dead walking corpses!! How did they turn into such bloodthirsty killing machines?!”

“We-we apologize, Legion Commander. But… we haven’t been able to determine the exact cause…”

“Damn it!”

Frustrated and unable to vent his anger, the legion commander gnashed his teeth.

The unified expectation of the strategists had been that a southern advance would be possible within the year.

Even the top strategists, who had an almost uncanny knack for accurate predictions, had agreed.

What had gone wrong? What kind of unforeseen variable had thoroughly messed up everything…

Then, one of the adjutants suddenly spoke up, as if he had just remembered something crucial.

“Legion Commander! According to our intelligence, Saint Beatrice visited the Iron Wall Fortress, bringing someone with her!”

“Bringing someone? Who in the world did she bring?”

“W-we’re not entirely sure, but… according to our spies, it seemed as if they performed some kind of bizarre ritual. Strange music and chanting echoed throughout the fortress for days! They kept shouting about finding God!”

The demonic spies had mistaken the choir’s hymns, the actors’ lines, and the paladins’ cheers for a strange and suspicious ritual.

Their misunderstanding wasn’t entirely unfounded. 

Originally, theater was born from ritualistic ceremonies intended for communication with nature and deities.

Ancient people sang hymns, danced, and hoped for divine blessings.

Those series of movements, praying for the prosperity and peace of their communities, gradually became systematized, eventually establishing the genre of theater.

And hadn’t those who watched <Exodus> actually fallen into a frenzy, screaming and wailing as if possessed?

It wasn’t hard to imagine why the demons would misinterpret it as a ritual.

“A ritual? A ritual, you say?! Could it be…!”

The legion commander paled.

His fists trembled with rage as he spat out, “Those humans… did they actually succeed? Did they manage to complete their research on that ancient magic—the one that allows them to brainwash people and control their minds?!”

If one thought that way, everything made an astonishing amount of sense.

The older the spell, the more fearsome and powerful it was.

Stories had circulated about efforts to restore ancient magic that had been lost in the magic towers.

However, it was a magic that even the most skilled demon mages found difficult to wield.

And the humans? They were a short-lived race, lacking the magical talent of the demons. He had assumed it would take centuries for them to recreate, let alone emulate, the ancient magic.

“…We’re abandoning this outpost. Those brainwashed paladins will regroup and attack soon.”

The legion commander, barely containing his anger, glared at his subordinates.

“Send word to headquarters immediately! Tell them a human mage who can control minds has appeared! We need to identify this mage and find a countermeasure! ”

Phantom, who had written <Exodus> at the request of Saint Beatrice…

…had unwittingly become the demons’ greatest threat. 

✧ ❅ ✦ ❅ ✧

“Thank you for your hard work, Phantom.”

On the day we safely completed the <Exodus> performance schedule and returned to the capital, the saintess approached me with a warm smile, bowing her head slightly.

“I think it was a great decision to entrust the task to you. The northern front will boast impenetrable defenses for at least a century. The paladins have all recovered their morale.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

I replied with a somewhat bewildered smile.

Now, wherever I went in the Iron Wall Fortress, all I heard were shouts of “Hallelujah!” and “Immanuel!”

Seeing the paladins not only regain their morale but overflow with enthusiasm made me wonder if this was actually a positive thing.

Especially witnessing them chant catchphrases as if they’d been brainwashed by the miracle of Moses was a sight to behold.

‘You can’t part the sea with a staff, my friends.’

Although I had encouraged them to immerse themselves in the performance, their reaction far exceeded my expectations, leaving me slightly worried.

What if they all started running wild, believing in miracles that wouldn’t happen, only to end up hurt?

What if they recklessly jumped off cliffs, claiming that with faith, they wouldn’t die?

“By the way, Phantom, have you ever studied theology in the past?”

“Theology?”

“The way you creatively depicted the miracles of ancient saints was quite impressive. It’s fragmented knowledge that only priests who’ve studied the scriptures would be well-versed in.”

While lost in these unsettling thoughts, the saintess eyed me curiously, asking the question.

“You see, it is said that the saints of ancient times borrowed Divine One’s power to trigger landslides and hurricanes, and even cause earthquakes on barren land. I think I heard they once dried up a part of the sea, similar to Moses?”

…Huh?

“Existing natural objects are included in Divine One’s providence. Therefore, reconstructing those natural objects through faith is theoretically possible. Of course, parting a vast ocean like Moses would require a great deal of holy power.”

“……………….”

“Well, those are just ancient events with unclear records. If such things were possible today, priests would have personally set out to subdue the demons outside the fortress, wouldn’t they?”

“Hahaha, y-yes, I suppose so.”

I laughed and replied, but I was a bit taken aback by her words.

Of course, I knew that the prophets of the past had performed various miracles with their faith.

That was why I thought Moses, who had displayed similar acts, would be an even better subject matter.

But even so…

‘Landslides, hurricanes, and even earthquakes…’

The ancient saints of this world were terrifying. Even if they weren’t on Moses’ level, they were practically walking nuclear weapons.

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

The Saint said this to me, with a hint of admiration in her voice.

“The battle between Moses, armed with a staff, and the Pharaoh, wielding a sword. In the end, it was Moses who triumphed. And now, his story has created a miracle in the real world. While we cannot dismiss the power of the sword, sometimes, a seemingly insignificant pen can be even stronger.”

Well… I wouldn’t say my intentions were that profound. I simply recreated the story of Moses from the Old Testament.

Still, being recognized as a brilliant philosopher, even unintentionally, was quite satisfying.

From the choice of subject matter to the final outcome, it was all a series of coincidences. But, as they say, coincidence repeated often enough becomes fate.

“Oh, by the way, Phantom, do you remember?” the Saint clapped her hands, as if suddenly remembering something.

“I mentioned I’d give you an additional reward beyond the material one if I was satisfied with this work, didn’t I?”

“Ah, yes. I remember.”

“And a promise is a promise. So, please continue your creative endeavors. Alright?”

“Of-of course. I’ll… I’ll keep writing.”

Leaving the Saint behind with her cheerful smile, I headed towards the teleportation circle.

My work in this cold and desolate fortress was done.

It was time to return to the warmth and comfort of my dorm room in Bronde Academy.

✧ ❅ ✦ ❅ ✧

Phantom.

The man who had left an indelible mark on her heart.

Beatrice clutched her jeweled crucifix, his name echoing in her mind.

“No wonder he’s so… unique.”

Only now did she understand why his soul had a form she had never seen before.

He was a man who channeled Divine One’s will through his pen.

Some spread the word of Divine One through gospel, others through pilgrimage, still others through the sword.

And Phantom? He was a savior who, in a manner of speaking, used his sharp pen to spread miracles throughout the land.

‘Perhaps Moses is… a self-portrait? ’

Moses and his staff, Phantom and his fountain pen…

Could it be that <Exodus> was a subtle, metaphorical representation of Phantom’s own calling?

…Of course, Phantom would probably be horrified by her interpretation. But for Beatrice, it had become an unshakable truth.

‘Catching a few art forgers… that’s hardly a fitting reward.’

A smile played on Beatrice’s lips as she clasped her hands together in prayer.

“The reward you deserve… it must be something far greater.”

✧❅ ✦ ❅ ✧

“…What was that again?”

“Ahem. Well… you see…”

A few days after returning from the northern fortress, Maurice approached me, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief. He was holding a small package.

“It’s from the imperial post office,” he said, carefully slicing open the package with a letter opener.

“It… seems you’ve been officially registered as a Hero candidate.”

He handed me a gleaming medal, crafted from orichalcum, the most precious of metals. A stylized quill had been engraved on its surface, alongside a single, bold inscription—

The pen is mightier than the sword.

Hero of the ‘Pen’ (Candidate), Phantom

Hero of the Pen? What in the world was that supposed to mean?

— End of Chapter —

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