Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword
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Over the course of three or four performances in total, Exodus was staged in rotation.
And at last, once every Holy Knight in the fortress had watched it without exception...
"Gahk!"
"D-Damn it! Run away!"
"Why the hell are those guys suddenly going crazy?!"
Suddenly, the agonized screams of demons began echoing across the northern front.
It was a Holy Knight unit that had been utterly demoralized just a few days earlier.
But their fighting spirit had exploded to unprecedented heights out of nowhere.
"Raaargh-!!!"
The knights rampaged through the battlefield, swinging swords and shields, maces and axes with abandon.
From within their sturdy helmets, eyes blazing with fanatical fervor burned like flames.
In a state bordering on possession, they chanted just one slogan over and over.
"Those with fervent faaaiiith-!!" "Part the sea with a staaaaff-!!!" "Wh-What nonsense is this, graaah!!"
The demon soldiers, clueless about the Holy Knights' true intent, could only flounder in confusion before being cut down.
Of course, some units got too carried away and allowed themselves to be surrounded by the enemy.
They'd charged in so enthusiastically, hacking and slashing, that they plunged too deep into enemy lines.
Yet even with their retreat cut off by the demons, the Holy Knights showed no fear whatsoever.
"Raaargh-!!"
"Chaaarge-!!!"
Instead, they vied to lead the vanguard, smashing straight through the encirclement.
They broke the enemy formation by sheer force and escaped, recreating the miracle of the Red Sea themselves.
A mad tactic known in Phantom's original world as the "Shimazu Retreat."
What made it possible wasn't abundant courage or years of honed martial prowess, but a single slogan.
"Those with fervent faaaiiith-!!" "Part the sea with a staaaaff-!!!" As these bizarre feats piled up, the tide of battle flipped completely from just days ago.
Now the demons were the ones being pushed back, fretting over losing their strongholds.
The demon high command, who had thought the impregnable fortress would fall soon, was thrown into disarray.
"Part the sea with a staff? What kind of nonsense is this!"
Bam! The legion commander slammed his fist on the conference table in rage.
His pitch-black demon eyes flashed as he growled.
"Just two days ago, they were half-dead corpses on the brink! How did they turn into those killing machines overnight?!"
"M-My apologies. However, we have no way to ascertain the details..."
"Tch, damn it!"
Unable to contain his fury, the legion commander ground his teeth.
His staff had unanimously predicted a southward advance within the year.
Even the strategists with pinpoint accuracy had agreed.
What variable had slipped in to ruin everything so thoroughly...?
At that moment, one of his aides reported as if struck by sudden inspiration.
"Legion Commander! According to intelligence, Saintess Beatrice visited the impregnable fortress with someone!"
"With someone? Who the hell did she bring?"
"W-We aren't certain, but... if the spy's report is accurate, they performed some bizarre ritual! Unidentified music and singing echoed from the fortress day after day! They heard cries invoking the divine as well!"
The demons mistook the choir's hymns, actors' lines, and Holy Knights' cheers for some suspicious rite.
In truth, it wasn't an entirely baseless misunderstanding.
Theater had originated as ritual sacrifices to commune with nature and the divine.
Ancient people sang praises to the gods, danced, and prayed for blessings.
Those communal rites for prosperity and peace evolved into the structured art of theater.
Besides, the Holy Knights who watched Exodus had literally gone into a frenzy, howling like madmen.
Anyone hearing that would suspect some dubious ritual.
"A ritual? A ritual, you say? Don't tell me...!"
The legion commander's face paled to an ashen hue upon hearing the report.
He muttered in a voice thick with outrage, fists trembling.
"Those human scum... did they succeed? In researching that ancient magic to bind human minds and brainwash them into obedience?"
It all made startling sense when viewed that way.
The older the completed spell, the more terrifying and potent it was.
He'd heard tales of the mage towers struggling to restore battle-tested ancient magic.
But this was sorcery even skilled demon mages hesitated to wield.
Humans, with their short lifespans and inferior talent compared to demons, no less?
They'd predicted it would take centuries just to imperfectly mimic it, let alone restore.
"...We'll abandon this outpost for now. The brainwashed Holy Knights will regroup and swarm us soon."
Forcing down his anger, the legion commander glared fiercely.
He turned to his subordinates and issued grim orders.
"Compile the battle report and send it to the higher-ups immediately! A vile human mage who can manipulate minds has appeared! We must identify them swiftly and devise countermeasures!"
Phantom, who had penned the religious play Exodus at Saintess Beatrice's request.
Unbeknownst to him, he had been marked as the demons' top threat.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "You truly worked hard, Phantom."
On the day he safely completed the Exodus performances and returned to the capital.
The saintess approached with a warm smile and bowed her head deeply.
"I knew entrusting it to you was the right choice. The northern front will now boast ironclad defenses for at least a century. With all the Holy Knights back to peak morale."
"That's a relief."
I replied with a dazed smile.
The impregnable fortress now echoed with nothing but "Hallelujah!" and "Emmanuel!" everywhere you went.
Watching Holy Knights overflowing with zeal to the point of overload, I wasn't sure whether to be happy or not.
Especially that catchphrase they shouted like they'd been brainwashed after Moses' miracle.
'You can't part the sea with a staff, you lot.'
I'd deliberately pushed for total immersion, but this exceeded expectations by miles, which worried me.
What if they hurt themselves chasing impossible miracles?
Blindly leaping off cliffs, convinced faith alone would save them?
"By the way, Phantom? Have you ever studied theology in the past?"
"Theology?"
"You depicted the miracles of ancient saints with remarkable creativity. They're such fragmented accounts that only priests who studied scripture would know them well."
As ominous thoughts swirled, the saintess eyed me slyly and asked.
"It's said ancient saints invoked landslides and hurricanes with divine power, even triggered earthquakes on barren ground. One even dried up a sea like Moses, I think?"
...Huh?
"Natural phenomena are part of divine providence. Thus, reconstructing them through faith is theoretically possible. Of course, splitting an entire ocean like Moses would require immense holy power."
"..."
"Well, it's all from vague ancient records. If it were possible today, priests would march out and crush the demons outside the fortress themselves. Right?"
"Haha, y-yeah, of course."
I laughed and answered, but her words left me a bit rattled.
Of course, I knew from common knowledge that past prophets wrought miscellaneous miracles through faith.
That's why Moses, with his similar feats, seemed like prime material.
But still.
'Landslides, hurricanes, and earthquakes.'
Scary stuff. This world's ancient saints were practically living nukes, even if not quite Moses-tier.
"...'The pen is mightier than the sword.' I finally get what you meant, Phantom."
The saintess said softly, gazing at me.
"Moses with his staff versus Pharaoh with his blade. Moses emerged victorious. And his tale wrought miracles in reality too. We can't dismiss the sword's power, but sometimes, even a seemingly humble pen proves stronger."
Well, no, I didn't write it with that much profundity. I just recreated Moses' Old Testament feats as-is.
Still, being hailed as some profound philosopher didn't feel bad.
It was all a chain of coincidences from material choice to outcome, but coincidences piling up become inevitability, right?
"Oh, right. Do you remember, Phantom?"
The saintess clapped as if just recalling.
"I said if you were satisfied with this work, I'd give extra immaterial rewards?"
"Ah, yes. I remember."
"I'll keep my promise. So keep creating works steadily from now on. Understood?"
"O-Of course. I will."
Leaving the beaming saintess behind, I headed to the teleportation circle.
With all my business in this cold, barren fortress done.
I wanted to return to the warm, cozy Brond Academy dorms as soon as possible.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Phantom.
The man now deeply etched in her heart from this incident.
Clutching her jeweled cross pendant, Beatrice whispered his name.
"So that's why you're no ordinary soul."
She finally understood why his soul took such an unprecedented form.
He was a being who enacted the divine call with his pen.
Some spread miracles through gospels, others through sermons or swords.
Phantom—if named—was a savior preaching miracles with his sharp pen.
'Perhaps Moses is his self-portrait.'
Moses and his staff, Phantom and his fountain pen.
She strongly suspected the play Exodus itself was a highly metaphorical expression of his calling.
...A leap of logic that would make Phantom faint if he heard, but to Saintess Beatrice, it was already conviction.
'Catching a few plagiarists is too trivial a reward.'
A pleased smirk tugged at her lips as she placed both hands over her heart in prayer.
"The honor befitting you demands something grander."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "...What did you just say?"
"Uh, well, you see..."
A few days after returning from the northern impregnable fortress.
Morris, wearing a dazed expression like he couldn't believe it himself, held something out.
A small parcel from the Imperial State Post Office.
As he slit it open with a letter knife, he spoke cautiously.
"You're officially registered as a Hero Candidate?"
It gleamed brilliantly—an exquisite badge of orichalcum, the most precious of metals.
Engraved on its surface was a quill motif alongside a single maxim.
🏅 Hero Badge The pen is mightier than the sword
Hero of the 'Pen' (Candidate)
Phantom
What the hell is a "Pen Hero," anyway?