I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy-Chapter 45

Phantom’s writing, in the form of a play, had provided the Doctor with new insights.

Whistle, whiiiiistle~♬

Whistling ominously again, the Doctor reflected on the fascinating rumors circulating around the capital recently.

“The Necronomicon is a real book? Heheh.”

The Necronomicon, the bizarre magic tome that contained records of the Great Old Ones, introduced in The Cthulhu Mythos.

Whether the rumor was true or not didn’t matter much, but it was an amusing speculation for idiots to have come up with.

Because, in reality...

The Doctor already owned an ancient tome very similar to the Necronomicon.

Rustle!

The sound of turning pages from an old book with an unsettling cover filled the room.

The Doctor adjusted their crooked glasses while gazing at the artifact, filled with strange hieroglyphs.

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The title inscribed in ancient language was Codex of the Dead.

The Doctor had acquired it quite some time ago, though decoding it had been an ongoing and frustrating endeavor.

The structure of the blasphemous hieroglyphs was intricate, and the descriptions were filled with nonsensical, incomprehensible concepts that made it incredibly difficult to grasp their true meaning.

But today, that finally changed.

“A being that will regain its body and awaken on the day when the stars align correctly.”

Muttering to themselves, the Doctor narrowed their eyes, recalling the attributes of the Great Old Ones mentioned in The Cthulhu Mythos.

Of course, the Doctor understood that it was merely a fictional play.

They were an intellectual who had accumulated knowledge across many fields over the years.

They had also studied hell and demons for a long time.

However, what truly mattered was the inspiration The Cthulhu Mythos had sparked. The new perspective it had provided, which was groundbreaking and sharp.

It had finally given the Doctor the key to unravel the tangled mystery within The Codex of the Dead.

“A Hero candidate, Phantom, you say? As expected, my junior.”

The Doctor chuckled darkly, their sinister smile spreading.

“To think you gave such a precious gift to a washed-up senior you’ve never even met. I suppose I should go thank you in person someday.”

With that, the Doctor turned up the brightness of the magical lantern next to them.

As the light increased, the contents of the display case near their research desk became visible.

Inside the case, an old medal gleamed brightly.

It was made of orichalcum, the same material as the medals possessed by Phantom, the Hero of the Pen candidate, and Maya, the Hero of the Sword candidate.

And on the same day the Doctor finally discovered how to properly decipher the Codex of the Dead,

a subtle shift occurred in a portion of the constellations above, unbeknownst to anyone on the continent.

“The Necronomicon is a real book! And everything written in it is true!”

“Phantom based The Cthulhu Mythos on the real contents of the Necronomicon!”

“Lock the windows! Bolt the doors! We’re all doomed!”

Outlandish rumors had suddenly spread throughout the capital.

The origin of these rumors was unclear, but they were spreading uncontrollably, fueling anxiety and fear among the people.

The content of the rumor was surprisingly simple.

The Necronomicon, they said, was not a fictional creation but an actual record written by a reclusive prophet named Howard Lovecraft.

And Phantom had met Lovecraft in person, read the book, and used it as the basis for the play.

Of course, these rumors didn’t arise without reason.

The last lines spoken by the actor playing Lovecraft in the final act of The Cthulhu Mythos had left a significant impact on the audience’s minds.

[What rises must sink, and what sinks shall rise! The day will come when horrifying beings, dreaming in the abyss, will awaken! The day when the staggering civilization of humanity collapses will surely come!]

In reality, this was nothing more than a chilling line taken from the short story The Call of Cthulhu to create an unsettling ending, typical of horror.

But the minds of the capital’s citizens, twisted by rumors, interpreted it differently.

Just as modern people had misinterpreted Nostradamus’ writings to predict the world’s end in 1999,

the people of this world believed that this line warned of the impending rise of ancient demons from the abyss.

Even though Phantom and the Wanderbühne troupe quickly refuted the rumors, trying to quell the panic, once a fire starts, it’s difficult to put out.

Like all conspiracy theories, it didn’t take much to fabricate reasons for disbelief in their explanations.

“I heard Phantom made a pact with Lovecraft not to reveal his existence!”

“They say Lovecraft only agreed to meet Phantom under the condition that he’d be portrayed as a fictional character!”

“And Phantom even swore a life-binding oath not to break his vow of silence!”

The rumors were blown wildly out of proportion, spreading like wildfire beyond the capital and throughout the entire empire.

Even people who didn’t know much about Phantom or had never seen The Cthulhu Mythos found the notion that demons were lurking beneath human civilization, waiting to rise again, deeply disturbing.

Before long, a collective hysteria, a fear of demons, swept across the empire.

It was akin to the infamous urban legend of the 1938 radio drama The War of the Worlds, where people mistook a fictional alien invasion for reality, spiraling into panic and fear.

“We’re all going to die! When Cthulhu awakens, we’ll be wiped out!”

“Hastur is coming! The King in Yellow is going to wreck us with his tentacles!”

“There! At the window! There’s something—”

“Calm down! Dagon, the fish demon, is not real! There’s nothing outside your window!”

“No, there is! There’s a spider the size of my fist—!”

“AAAAAHHH!!”

However, by sheer luck, Phantom’s The Cthulhu Mythos did not lead to widespread riots or apocalyptic cults.

The dedicated priests and sincere doctors stationed across the empire, forewarned by the capital’s diocese, worked tirelessly to restore order, reassuring the people,

“The Heavenly God will protect us.”

According to their doctrine, the one true god, the Heavenly God, was a great and benevolent creator of life, guiding the world’s order.

And even if Cthulhu were real, humanity would be safe from his clutches, thanks to the God’s protection.

Gradually, the empire began to emerge from the exaggerated hysteria.

However, outside the capital, in rural areas, the fear of demons manifested in a new and unexpected way…

People, having only half-understood The Cthulhu Mythos and its lore about R’lyeh,

began to spread a new craze—searching for demon lairs in an effort to prevent the resurrection of these ancient evils.

“Let’s stop the demons from awakening ourselves!”

“Find the lairs of the ancient demons! Seal them away forever so they can never rise!”

“You demon-worshipping bastards! We won’t let you threaten the world!”

Excited mobs armed with sickles and pitchforks formed vigilante groups, searching the ruins near the capital.

If there was even a hint that the ruins were connected to demons, they would scour the area.

And if they found anything suspicious, they immediately reported it to the guards.

As a result, guards across the empire, excluding the capital, were bombarded with false reports, like villagers tricked by the boy who cried wolf.

“That’s just the ruins of an ancient city-state! How many times do I have to tell you, ma’am?!”

“Ha! Fool! Then how do you explain these sinister markings on the walls and pillars?”

“For the last time, it’s just graffiti left by passersby for fun!”

“Look at this carving in the ruins! Doesn’t it look exactly like Dagon from The Cthulhu Mythos?”

“It’s just a fish relief! It’s a symbol of prosperity for good harvests!”

Soon, guards everywhere were suffering from collective neuroses due to the citizens’ burning suspicion, reminiscent of a real-world witch hunt.

This continued until one fateful day...

“That’s it! I’m certain there are demon-worshippers gathering here! I saw a strange group heading this way with my own eyes!”

“Yeah, yeah, old man. Sure, sure.”

“Well, let’s just get this over with.”

A small town located several kilometers from the capital.

An old man in his seventies led the guards to the ruins of a castle that had been abandoned for over 700 years, spitting with excitement.

The young guards following him sighed heavily.

This was the thirtieth report of demon-worshippers gathering or being found this week.

And, of course, all 30 of those reports had turned out to be dead ends.

“When are they going to stop talking about these demons? It’s been over a century since the last purge.”

“I swear, this is all Phantom’s fault. We’re stuck dealing with this mess because of that stupid play.”

“Dammit. We’re only getting this treatment because we’re stationed outside the capital.”

The guards grumbled as they followed the old man, complaining about the chaos caused by The Cthulhu Mythos.

The purge led by the Holy Church and the empire’s governments had wiped out demon-worshipping factions long ago, hadn’t it?

Sure, there were reports of monsters and bandits appearing, but demon-worshippers? Not once.

But when they followed the old man into the depths of the castle ruins...

GRRRRRRK!

Suddenly, the sound of heavy stones shifting echoed through the dark chamber.

A hidden door in the floor, fitted with secret hinges, swung open, revealing itself.

A concealed entrance, unnoticed by any residents nearby, now stood open for all to see.

And from the steps beneath the secret door...

“Fufufu. Another successful day, my glorious comrades.”

“The foolish Church fools never imagined we were growing stronger in the shadows all this time!”

“The Great Demon King’s resurrection is near! Let us continue our work for the day when the demons rise from hell.”

...True demon-worshippers in blood-red robes, holding bowls filled with skulls and goat’s blood, emerged before the shocked guards and the old man.

“What?!”

“Huh?!”

Both the guards and the demon-worshippers froze, utterly taken aback by the unexpected encounter.

A heavy silence hung between them, as if one second stretched into a hundred years.

And then, in the next moment, the senior guard officer came to his senses and quickly drew his sword.

“D-demon-worshippers! Arrest them all!”

“Yes, sir! Surround them! Don’t let them close that door again, Peter!”

“Eeeek! We’ve been discovered!”

“How?! Our security was flawless up until now!”

“Waaah! Great Demon Lord, save us!”

“Demon Lord, my ass! You’re all headed for the gallows!”

That day, thanks to Phantom and the Wanderbühne troupe, the empire uncovered a faction of traitors thought to have been wiped out over a century ago.

These traitors had been secretly colluding with the northern demons, increasing their numbers underground.

And it wasn’t through a meticulously planned military operation or a clever espionage mission.

No, they were caught purely because of a citizen’s vigilant reporting, inspired by the hysteria surrounding The Cthulhu Mythos.