I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy-Chapter 46

If she truly had played a significant role, Betellio had every reason to feel a certain pride.

"No, it was thanks to a new work written by the Pen Hero candidate," Abraham said, shaking his head.

"The play vividly depicted the dangers of ancient demons and raised awareness among the people. The Empire plans to formally recognize his contribution soon."

"A play? The Pen Hero candidate wrote a play about demons?"

"Yes, an act titled Cthulhu Mythos. It awakened fear of demons in the minds of the people, who then voluntarily began to monitor suspicious individuals, leading to their capture."

"Haha, is that so? Truly, the gods must be watching over us. Had these events not coincided, a terrible calamity might have befallen us."

"…I beg your pardon, Your Eminence. Do you truly believe this was mere coincidence?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Upon investigation, it seems that the portrayal of demons in the play was too detailed to have been crafted solely from imagination. Phantom himself denies any real experience with demons, but it is almost as if he had seen them with his own eyes."

It is impossible to create such a detailed portrayal from mere imagination? Betellio frowned deeply at the weighty assertion from the demonologist.

"What are you suggesting, Professor Abraham? Remember, we're speaking of a hero candidate endorsed by the saint herself."

"Please, do not be swayed by preconceived notions. No matter how great a writer may be, do you believe an ordinary playwright could so accurately depict the existence of evil?"

Rustle!

As he finished speaking, Professor Abraham handed over several pages of reports.

As Betellio skimmed the contents, his expression grew increasingly serious.

The report analyzed the connections between Cthulhu Mythos and the actual ancient evils worshipped by the demon followers. It was hard to dismiss the possibility that the play's precise descriptions went beyond academic or fictional knowledge.

"Moreover, rumors are circulating regarding the man named Howard Lovecraft, who appears in Cthulhu Mythos. It is said that he is not a fictional character, but a real person who taught Phantom the shapes and records of the demons."

Looking into the cardinal's eyes, Professor Abraham continued, "Of course, these are just rumors, and it's unclear how much of it is true. But isn't this an assertion too significant to ignore?"

"And your conclusion?"

"It is simple, Your Eminence."

With a deep breath, Abraham collected his thoughts before solemnly speaking.

"…The great writer Phantom may very well be an envoy of the gods who has traveled to the realm of dreams."

The realm of dreams.

A mythical dimension said to exist between the material and immaterial worlds. It was believed that only angels and mortals chosen by the gods could cross into this mysterious plane.

It was akin to purgatory in the eyes of the clergy of the Holy Church.

"I do not believe Phantom has lied to us. From his perspective, it may indeed seem like a work of pure imagination. But what if that is not the case?"

"…"

"The realm of dreams can only be accessed by a select few chosen by the gods. It opens only when a divine revelation is to be delivered. However, those who return from that place have all their memories sealed, leaving behind only vague impressions granted by the gods for the sake of 'revelation.'"

"Are you saying that Phantom wrote Cthulhu Mythos because the gods willed it, and the discovery of the demon worshippers was part of that plan? And what of this recluse prophet, Lovecraft?"

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"I believe he may indeed be a sage Phantom met in the realm of dreams. Though Phantom himself may dismiss it as a mere fantasy."

Abraham's line of reasoning paralleled Howard Lovecraft's own creation, Randolph Carter, the explorer of dimensions and Lovecraft’s persona in his stories. Abraham's comparison placed Phantom, Lovecraft, and Carter on equal footing, weaving an intricate theory.

It was the kind of fanciful speculation only possible through interpretations of dreams, stretching the logic to its limits. Yet, the title of "Pen Hero candidate" lent credence to his conjecture. And hadn’t even the saint testified to seeing an unusual glow in Phantom’s soul?

With all these misinterpretations aligning, it was no wonder…

"The gods have chastised us through Phantom for ignoring the hidden dangers in our midst."

Betellio lowered his head and began to reflect deeply, his heart heavy with repentance.

"I must atone! I must atone!" he cried, striking his chest in penance before turning to Abraham.

"We must ensure that such a disaster does not repeat. The poison of demon worship could spread again at any moment."

"I wholeheartedly agree, Your Eminence. This world is filled with mysteries beyond our understanding. If someone were to exploit them, unspeakable horrors could follow."

The recently captured demon worshippers exhibited similar behaviors. They sought out ancient ruins, idols, and sources of magical power to conduct their rituals and use the mysteries of the world to their advantage.

Though Phantom's keen instincts had helped them avoid disaster this time, there was no guarantee that fortune would favor them again in the future.

"What can we do to prevent this from happening again, Abraham? We need a plan that allows us to swiftly deal with similar threats."

"I have been pondering that very question. How about this?"

With a confident air, Professor Abraham handed over another report. As Betellio scanned its contents, his curiosity was piqued.

"A foundation? A foundation supported by the Vatican to isolate and contain supernatural phenomena related to demons?"

"Yes, I propose establishing a research team under the Inquisition, protected by the Inquisitorial Guard. This way, we can focus solely on research while ensuring we cut off these dangers at their roots, preventing future threats."

"Hmm, I see… That’s not a bad idea."

Given the recent dangerous precedent, the Conclave would be unlikely to oppose such a proposal. After all, this foundation would bring together inquisitors, demonologists, clergy, and other skilled professionals to prevent the threats the world now faced.

"Very well. Convene the meeting immediately. Let’s move forward with founding this 'foundation.'"

Betellio returned the report to Abraham with a satisfied smile, entrusting him with the preparations for the presentation to the Conclave.

"And what shall we call this foundation? We can’t just refer to it as 'the foundation.'"

"Hmm, a name for the foundation… A name…" Abraham pondered the question before his eyes gleamed with inspiration.

"…The Lovecraft Foundation."

Breaking the silence with a suggestion, Abraham thoughtfully rubbed the crucifix of his rosary as he spoke.

"The sage from the realm of dreams who warned Phantom of the rising evil… How about naming the foundation after him, Howard Lovecraft?"

And so, discussions began in the Vatican on the formation of a new branch inspired by the events of Cthulhu Mythos.

An organization designed to secure, contain, and protect the supernatural—a fantasy-world equivalent of the SCP Foundation—was taking shape.

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Around the same time, in a hidden underground laboratory located east of the capital, the remnants of the demon worshippers were being purged.

Swish! Slash!

"Ugh! Kyaa-!"

"What are these things?!"

"Undead? Demon-kin? Or are they just stitched-together chunks of flesh?"

The Imperial soldiers were aghast at the grotesque appearance of their foes.

Leading them, a young knight barked his orders with a stern glare.

"Undead or demon-kin, it doesn’t matter! They're all enemies! Don’t be afraid—charge! I’ll lead the way!"

With a burst of blue flames, his sword lit up, casting an eerie light. The soldiers marveled at the sight.

"Whoa, is that…?!"

"The result of the Imperial Magic Swordsman Project!"

The project spearheaded by Lord Wenford, the Army Minister, had shown slow but steady progress.

Though they had failed to raise magic swordsmen comparable to a true overlord, they had succeeded in creating "enhanced soldiers" through magical augmentation.

The young knight, Kyle, one of the thirty soldiers born from this project, stood among them as a high-ranking member of his generation. Though far from the might of a tyrant like Xiang Yu, he was certainly one of the most skilled of his peers.

"The demon worshippers we’ve caught so far have been small fry! The real prize is this so-called 'Doctor!' We don’t know what tricks he has up his sleeve, so stay alert!"

A century ago, the Empire had launched a grand crusade against demon worshippers, who had threatened the survival of mankind.

Taking advantage of the chaos, these fallen ones had tried to open the gates of hell and revive the Demon King. The Church and the government had worked together to stamp out the poisonous weeds that had infested society.

But even after the war ended, demon worship was considered a thing of the past, a tragic chapter long closed.

Yet here they were, hidden underground, quietly regaining their strength and stirring up chaos, maintaining tight communication networks and acting as spies for the demon lords.

"Sir Kyle! Over there, in that direction!"

At the soldier's cry, they all turned to see a massive door leading into what appeared to be a large research laboratory.

And from inside…

"Help! Please, someone save me! Aah!"

A woman’s desperate screams rang out.

"Someone’s alive!"

"Hurry! Rescue her before those monsters kill her!"

"Move aside! You're in the way!"

BAM!

Ignoring the shouts of his men, Magic Swordsman Kyle dashed forward and kicked open the door to the laboratory.

What lay before his eyes was a horrifying scene.

A magic circle drawn in black ink for a sinister ritual. Strange alchemical symbols carved for unknown purposes. Scattered everywhere were human organs and bloody body parts.

And in the middle of the room, strapped to a surgical table, a woman with light green hair struggled in her bonds…

Standing over her with a bone saw and butcher's knife was an old man.

"Help me! This madman is going to kill me!"

Seeing the man approaching with his saw, the green-haired woman cried out in terror. Her tear-filled, gem-like eyes enraged Kyle.

"Are you Doctor Ephraim? The one who’s been kidnapping innocent people for your grotesque human experiments?"

This was the man they had discovered during the interrogation of the captured demon worshippers. Doctor Ephraim, a figure closely tied to the demon lords of the North, revered even by the demon worshippers for his intellect and mastery of alchemy.

Yet no one knew his true identity, or how he had transformed into such a monstrous lunatic. He was a man shrouded in ominous mystery.

"Krrr… Khrrhrr… Kehhheh…!!"

The bespectacled old man, Doctor Ephraim, let out a series of eerie, deranged laughs. It was as if he didn’t care about anything Kyle was saying, completely absorbed in his madness.

"Drop your weapon and surrender, Doctor! If you do, I’ll spare your life!" Kyle commanded, his sword blazing.

He was not lying. The orders from above were to capture the "Doctor" alive. The goal was to extract valuable information through interrogation.

But things didn’t go as Kyle had hoped.

"Kehhehe!"

Suddenly, the Doctor lunged at Kyle, despite his aged body, moving with the speed and agility of a predatory bird.

"Tch!"

Faced with the crazed assault, Kyle was forced to defend himself by swinging his sword in a powerful arc.

Slash!

Thud! Thud, thud…

With a clean, sharp sound of bone and flesh being severed, the Doctor’s head fell to the ground.

And so, the deranged alchemist met a grim end at the hands of Magic Swordsman Kyle.

"Damn it!"

Kyle cursed as he glared at the severed head at his feet. The plan to capture the Doctor alive had failed, but what was done was done.

He decided to focus on rescuing the woman tied to the operating table.

"Are you alright, miss?"

"Sob! Thank you! Thank you so much for saving me, Sir Knight!"

As he cut through her restraints, the woman stood up, wiping her tears. She appeared to be in her early twenties, her light green hair disheveled and stained with blood.

"I thought I was going to die. That crazy alchemist was planning to perform some kind of immortality experiment on me…"

"You're safe now. Don’t worry."

He wrapped her in a warm blanket, speaking gently as he tried to calm her.

"My name is Kyle, a Magic Swordsman of the Imperial Army. May I ask your name?"

"D-Derby… My name is Derby."

"Miss Derby, I’m glad you’re unharmed. We’ll conduct a brief investigation, and then you’ll be free to go home. Rest assured."

"Really? Oh, I thought I’d never see my home again… My parents will be so happy."

With a smile returning to her face, her green eyes sparkled like her hair. Leaning on Kyle for support, she shakily got to her feet, her expression full of relief.

Kyle gently patted her on the shoulder and signaled his soldiers to escort her outside the bloody laboratory.

"Haah."

Once the situation had calmed, Kyle rubbed his throbbing temple as he stared down at the Doctor's corpse.

With Ephraim dead, the leads connecting the demon lords to the worshippers and their secret dealings had vanished.

There was only one option left.

"…Seize all materials in this laboratory!" Kyle commanded his remaining soldiers with a resolute tone.

"We must uncover what the Doctor was researching, how he was connected to the demon worshippers, and what the demon lords were planning with him!"