Proclaiming the Word (2)
When Luke was seven years old, he wrote down the words of Lord Deus. His father saw them and was greatly astonished. "Child, why have you written such things?"
And the child Luke said unto him, "These are the words of Lord Deus. Do you not know that this is the gospel which must be spread throughout the world?"
But his father did not understand the words he spoke.
The character I possessed, Luke Perseino, was the third son of Grand Duke Leopard Perseino.
He had two older sisters above him: the eldest, Siren Perseino, and the second, Meiru Perseino.
Both were playable characters who shone in Deus ex Machina—ones I held dear.
By contrast, this Luke Perseino I now inhabited was an extra who never even appeared in the story.
In the game, there was a mention of Siren and Meiru losing a sickly younger brother in their childhood.
That was probably this Luke.
And from what I'd heard, before I opened my eyes in this body, it had lain bedridden for a week, on the brink of death.
The original Luke must have died right around then.
I'd simply possessed his already-departed corpse.
Thinking of it that way eased my guilt toward the original Luke. It wasn't like I'd erased him and stolen his body for no reason.
...That said, I had my own problem: this body was frail.
Thankfully, it wasn't some incurable disease or anything like that.
But when it came to swordsmanship or magic...
This body had zero talent. It was utterly feeble.
No matter how hard I trained, it could never grow strong like a normal person.
That dream of starting rigorous training as a child, building power, and adventuring with Deus ex Machina's main characters? Shattered.
No way this weak frame could handle the game's brutal adventures.
Well, now I was scheming a way to get into the academy, at least.
"...Get lost, you trash. Don't dirty my eyes first thing in the morning."
Anyway, the sister standing before me now—Luke's second-eldest—was Meiru Perseino.
She utterly despised me.
"Morning, Meiru sis."
"Who do you think is ruining my mood? Get out before I lose my patience."
"...Yeah. See you later, sis."
She reached for the sword at her hip, so I bolted back to my room.
Our relationship hadn't always been this bad.
No, it used to be great.
I knew what she liked, so winning her favor was easy. And she had a sweet personality that doted on her cute little brother.
What wrecked things between us? That book I wrote.
Bible for Continent Dwellers
The book I wrote and spread across the continent.
Who would've thought my beloved sister would fall so deep into it that she turned into a fanatic?
"What? False?"
I knew the truth behind that book, so I tried telling her it was fake. But she wouldn't listen.
"Absurd! ...To think my own brother was a demon blaspheming the gods!"
She only cherished the book more and pushed me away.
"I'm ashamed I ever thought of you as my precious little brother. Before I knew Lord Deus, every day felt like a dream."
That's how our bond crumbled to this.
My sister, who used to adore me so much when I was little... now this.
...Not that I could just admit I wrote it. What a mess.
If only I hadn't written that book...
Back when I first realized this body had no talents at all, as a child, I despaired.
So what if I'd come to the world of Deus ex Machina?
I couldn't even meet the characters I loved, let alone adventure with them.
So I pondered. What could I—a nobody with nothing but the title of third son in a northern grand duchy—possibly do?
Spirit herbs? Fortuitous encounters? Hidden pieces?
I knew the locations of hidden pieces no one else did at this point in time.
Most showed up in the main story, after all.
The problem? I was too powerless to reach them.
I couldn't command the grand duchy's troops.
I lacked the authority, and the rough northern soldiers wouldn't follow a weakling like me anyway. Sure, they doted on me as their cute young master, but that's all I was to them—someone to protect.
My family wouldn't believe me either. Me, who'd spent my whole life in this castle, claiming to know about spirit herbs? Ridiculous.
So the solution I found? Money.
Earn a fortune, and I could hire mercenaries, buy all the spirit herbs I wanted.
How could I make money?
I had no specialized profession from Earth.
No engineering degree, no credentials.
No way I could replicate Earth's advanced cuisine, farming techniques, mineral refining, or whatever.
My knowledge of Earth's tech was just superficial scraps.
In the end, reproducing Earth's technology here failed too.
Modern humans are this useless, huh.
After trial and error, I hit on it: become a writer.
Right.
This world resembled Earth's Middle Ages. Not as packed with entertainment.
No countless masterpieces like on Earth.
What if I wrote novels here?
Mash up Earth's classics and spread them!
Wouldn't they explode in popularity?
Perfect. Let's do it.
Resolved, I racked my brain for Earth's fun stories, plagiarizing layer upon layer into a fantasy novel.
Plagiarized from every Earth masterpiece, sure—but no one here would know.
I finished it and ran to my father, expecting otherworldly shock.
But he barely cared.
Yeah, he's older, successful—figures.
A bit disappointed, but I still showed it to the maids and knights around the estate, hoping they'd love it.
No dice. My hopes shattered again.
No one liked it. They just cooed over the young master's cute antics with fake enthusiasm.
Was my writing bad?
No way. I'd copied sentences straight from Earth's masters.
Their prose couldn't suck. Why no popularity?
I brooded long and hard, then it hit me.
Ah.
This was totally different from the books people here read.
No matter how fun, they couldn't enjoy something so alien to their tastes.
To them, my novel must've seemed bizarrely unique.
Too hard for newcomers to get into.
I'd messed up completely.
I should've written something like the books they already knew—but better.
With that answer, I studied the books people in this Deus ex Machina world read.
And reached a conclusion: scriptures.
Religious texts.
A fantasy world like Earth's Middle Ages. Unlike Christian-dominated medieval Europe, religions here were a chaotic mess—but gods meddled directly, so people obsessed over them.
They loved reading about gods.
Yes. This was it.
Write about a god.
I'd gone to church as a kid on Earth, tagging along with a friend.
Sunday school, read some Bible.
Take that, tweak it for this world, and give it a shot.
Hmm... but which god?
Straight Bible stories might not fit this world. Better mix in local flavor.
Ah!
Right—the forgotten god from Deus ex Machina's main story who empowers the protagonist.
Deus.
Let's write about Deus.
A god from the mythic age who saved the world at great sacrifice.
Not obliterated, but forgotten by all.
The protagonist stumbles on her ruins by chance and gains her power.
She was real, but comatose and unknown—writing about her should be fine.
So I wrote my book on Deus.
That became the Bible for Continent Dwellers.
I rushed to Father with it.
His face darkened instantly.
"Where did you get this book?"
"I wrote it!"
"Did someone dictate it to you?"
"No! It's all my own ideas!"
Back then, I thought his reaction meant I'd written something amazing. I was thrilled.
"...Hmmm. Is that so?"
Looking back, probably not.
He must've grasped the continental upheaval my book could unleash just from reading it.
"Don't show this to anyone else first."
"But? I wanted to sell it..."
"What? Sell it?"
"Yeah! I need money for something—my allowance isn't enough. And if it sells well, it'll help the territory too!"
"Hmmm... I see. I'll think on it. For now, don't breathe a word to anyone. I'll hold onto it."
The next day, Father took my book and left the territory for somewhere.
Weeks later, when he returned, he gave his permission.
"To think my son was chosen by a god... We can't waste time standing around."