Exodus was performed in several sessions, and after all the paladins in the fortress had finally seen it:

"Argh!"

"Damn it! Run away!"

"What’s wrong with those guys all of a sudden?!"

The Northern Front was suddenly filled with the desperate screams of the demon soldiers. Just recently, the paladins had been low on morale, but now their fighting spirit had surged to an explosive level.

"Uwoooahhh—!!!"

Wielding swords, shields, maces, and axes, the knights tore through the battlefield with wild abandon. Their eyes, shining with fanatic fervor, blazed like flames behind their sturdy helmets.

In a near-trance state, they shouted a single chant, over and over:

"Those with unwavering faith—!!"

"Shall part the sea with a staff!!!"

"What… what kind of nonsense is that?! Gyaaaah!"

The demon soldiers, clueless about the source of the paladins' zeal, were helpless as they were cut down.

Some paladin units, caught up in their fervor, pushed too far into enemy lines and found themselves surrounded. But even with their retreat cut off, the paladins showed no fear.

"Uwoooahhh!!!"

"Charge!!!"

They threw themselves at the enemy, breaking through the encirclement by sheer force, reenacting the miracle of the parted sea on the battlefield.

This mad tactic, known in Phantom's original world as Shimazu's Retreat, wasn’t powered by courage or martial skill honed over years, but by a single chant.

"Those with unwavering faith—!!"

"Shall part the sea with a staff!!!"

As these bizarre successes piled up, the battle turned completely in favor of the paladins, the situation flipping from how it had been just days before.

Now, the demons found themselves pushed back, fearing the loss of their strongholds. The demon leadership, which had been confident in breaking through the fortress's defenses, was left in a state of shock.

"Parting the sea with a staff? What is this nonsense?!"

Bam! The demon general slammed his fist on the table in fury, his black eyes gleaming with rage.

"Just two days ago, they were half-dead! Now they’ve suddenly turned into these killing machines?!"

"S-Sir, we… we don’t know the exact details…" stammered a subordinate.

"Dammit!"

Grinding his teeth in frustration, the demon general thought back to their earlier predictions. The strategists had all confidently forecasted that they would be able to push south by the end of the year, and even the sharpest tacticians had agreed.

What variable had appeared to ruin everything?

Then, one of his officers suddenly recalled something and reported.

"General! According to our intelligence, Saint Beatrice visited the fortress, and she brought someone with her!"

"Brought someone? Who did she bring?"

"W-we’re not entirely sure, but… according to the informant, they performed some sort of strange ritual! They said there was unfamiliar music and singing coming from the fortress, along with loud chants for their god!"

The demon soldiers had mistaken the choir’s hymns, the actors’ lines, and the paladins' cheers for some bizarre ritual.

It wasn’t a completely baseless assumption. Theater, after all, had its origins in ancient rituals, where people would sing and dance to connect with the divine.

The paladins who had seen Exodus were screaming and howling with a fervor bordering on madness, so it wasn’t surprising the demons thought a strange ritual was taking place.

"A ritual? A ritual, you say? Could it be…!"

The demon general's face turned ashen as he trembled, muttering in anger.

"Have the humans succeeded? Have they perfected some ancient magic that allows them to control minds, making people act however they desire?"

It all made sense now, explaining the sudden shift in the paladins' behavior.

The older a spell, the more powerful and terrifying it became. And the rumors about the humans trying to restore forgotten ancient magic from the mage towers were well-known.

But that was magic even the best demon sorcerers struggled to wield. Humans, with their short lifespans and limited talent, were supposed to be incapable of mastering such arts.

Yet, it seemed the impossible had happened.

"We must abandon this stronghold. Soon, those brainwashed paladins will regroup and attack."

Suppressing his rage, the demon general issued a grim order.

"And report this to headquarters immediately! Inform them that among the humans, there is now a vile magician capable of controlling minds! We must find out who they are and prepare countermeasures!"

Unbeknownst to him, Phantom, the playwright behind Exodus, had now become one of the greatest threats in the eyes of the demon army.

✧❅✦❅✧

"Thank you so much for your hard work, Phantom."

The day had finally come for us to return to the capital after finishing all the performances of Exodus. Saint Beatrice approached me with a warm smile and a slight bow of her head.

"It seems I was right to trust you with this task. Thanks to you, the Northern Front is secured for at least the next century. The paladins have completely regained their morale."

"That’s good to hear," I replied with a dazed smile.

Even now, the fortress echoed with cries of "Hallelujah!" and "Emmanuel!" Watching the paladins, whose enthusiasm had reached dangerous levels, I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or concerned.

Especially since they’d become obsessed with the catchphrase from Moses’ miracle:

"Those with unwavering faith can part the sea with a staff!"

‘Uh, you guys do know you can’t actually part the sea, right?’

While I’d intentionally played up the miracle, their reaction far exceeded my expectations. I couldn’t help but worry they’d injure themselves trying to perform miracles.

Would they start jumping off cliffs, convinced that faith alone would save them?

"By the way, Phantom, have you studied theology before?"

"Theology?"

"You seem to have portrayed ancient miracles with a lot of creativity. Only priests who study the scriptures would know such obscure details."

I had been lost in my grim thoughts when Saint Beatrice suddenly turned her gaze toward me and asked.

"It’s said that saints of old, with God’s power, caused landslides and hurricanes, and even triggered earthquakes."

Uh… what?

"Nature itself is part of God's providence, so in theory, it’s possible to reshape natural forces through faith. Although parting the sea, like Moses did, would require an immense amount of divine power."

"……"

"Of course, those were ancient times. If such miracles were possible today, the priests would have gone out and dealt with the demons outside the fortress already, right?"

"Haha, y-yeah, of course."

Landslides, hurricanes, and earthquakes?

The ancient saints in this world were practically walking weapons of mass destruction. Even if they weren’t on Moses’ level, they were terrifyingly powerful.

"…The pen is mightier than the sword, huh. I finally understand what you meant, Phantom."

Saint Beatrice continued, smiling softly as she looked at me.

"In the battle between Moses, who wielded a staff, and Pharaoh, who wielded a sword, Moses was the one who ultimately prevailed. And now, the story of Moses has sparked a miracle in real life. Swords are powerful, but sometimes, a humble pen can be even stronger."

Well, I didn’t write the play with that much philosophical depth in mind. I just reenacted Moses’ actions from the Old Testament.

Still, it didn’t feel bad to be regarded as some profound philosopher. Even if everything—from the choice of subject matter to the outcome—was a series of lucky accidents, wasn’t there a saying that enough coincidences make fate?

"Oh, by the way, Phantom," Saint Beatrice said suddenly, as if recalling something important. She clapped her hands.

"Do you remember how I promised you an additional reward, beyond material compensation, if I was satisfied with the play?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I always keep my promises. So please, continue to write your works. Understood?"

"Of course. I’ll make sure of it."

Leaving behind the smiling saint, I headed toward the teleportation circle. My business in this cold and harsh fortress was done, and I was eager to return to the warmth of my cozy dormitory in Bronde.

✧❅✦❅✧

Phantom.

The name of the man now etched deep into her heart. As she held her jeweled cross, Saint Beatrice reflected on his name.

"It seems there was a reason for his extraordinary soul."

She had finally understood why his soul had such a unique hue.

He was someone who fulfilled God's will with his pen.

Some spread miracles through gospel, some through pilgrimage, and others through the sword. But Phantom, he was a savior who spread miracles with his sharp pen.

‘Perhaps Moses was not just a reimagined saint, but a reflection of himself.’

Moses with his staff, Phantom with his pen.

Was Exodus not a sophisticated metaphor for his own mission?

Of course, if Phantom heard this, he would likely be flabbergasted at the wild leap in logic, but for Saint Beatrice, it had already solidified into certainty.

‘Catching a few plagiarists would be too small of a reward.’

Smiling warmly, Saint Beatrice clasped her hands together in prayer.

"A man like him deserves a much greater honor than that."

✧❅✦❅✧

"Wait… what did you just say?"

"Uh, well, here."

A few days after returning from the fortress, Maurice handed me something with a bewildered expression, as if even he couldn’t believe it.

It was a small package delivered by the Imperial Post Office. Maurice carefully sliced it open with a letter knife, revealing its contents.

"You’ve been officially registered as a candidate for Hero status."

Inside was an elaborate badge made from orichalcum, the finest of all precious metals. Engraved on its surface was a quill pen, along with a single phrase:

The pen is mightier than the sword.

Candidate for the Hero of the Pen, Phantom.

What the hell is a Hero of the Pen supposed to do?