The Man of the Low Stone Heap: Part 2
In Kim Beomhyeok's view, dividing humanity—one single species—by categories like ethnicity or race was utterly meaningless. No matter how rigorously the Atlantis Empire had enforced ethnic and racial segregation policies for thousands of years, it was impossible to completely prevent intermixing.
But classifying the empire's myriad intelligent lifeforms by "species"—at least in the eyes of someone as deeply immersed in fascism as he was—made perfect sense. He believed without question that humanity was the greatest species in the universe, and to a devout human supremacist like him, aliens weren't partners for cooperation; they were targets for extermination.
So what about "mixed-blood humans"? If even a single drop of alien blood coursed through their veins, they were mixed-blood humans! To restore "human purity," there was no choice but to sweep these abominations from existence entirely!
Not just for the sake of human purity, but the fact that mixed-blood humans had collaborated with the enemy state, the Lucid Empire, from the shadows during the Great War was beyond doubt. Earth's sons hadn't fallen to the blades of the Lucid Empire's forces—they'd been stabbed in the back by these traitors!
The "Final Solution to the Mixed-Blood Human Question" could only mean their complete annihilation! Beomhyeok believed this fervently, convinced that the fascists leading the Greater Germanic State had the right idea in their persecution of the Jews—and that the same methods should be applied wholesale to eradicate mixed-blood humans.
And the Jews deserve to be wiped from this universe too.
This contradicted his own professed belief that discrimination based on ethnic or racial differences was wrong, but in Beomhyeok's mind, Jews were just another enemy to be swept away alongside aliens and mixed-bloods.
Even if those Jews dominated the nation gripping the world's key currency—the Cates Empire, number one in economic and military might. To overcome the colossal enemy of "racial contamination," they had to be crushed no matter the cost!
While everyone else condemned the fascists' crimes, Beomhyeok saw them and thought, Let's do that too! It was around then that political differences sparked conflict with his father. His father had named him Kim Beomhyeok hoping the boy would devote himself to the independence struggle, but when his son suddenly went mad for fascism, how could tensions not arise?
"Son, you've been reading some strange books lately..."
"Father! Strange books? What do you mean by that? You can't belittle the masterpiece of a great thinker like that!"
Regardless of his father's attempts to rein him in, Beomhyeok scrounged SS uniforms from Lucid Empire trade ships when they docked and wore them proudly, never stopping his devouring of fascist literature. If anything, his father's interference only made him dive deeper.
At fifteen, Beomhyeok stood 190cm tall—an imposing figure with a perfect eight-head proportions body, skin like white jade defying yellow-race stereotypes, and sharp, striking features that made him strikingly handsome. The uniform suited him all too well. And when that handsome youth climbed the makeshift podium in the village square for his speechifying games?
"Eh, I don't really get it, but if you say so, it must be true. You're smarter than us, after all."
"We can't even write our own names... How'd you learn all that stuff from wherever?"
A genius with such exceptional looks preaching fascism? Folks around here just clapped along, figuring it must be so. In the unique political climate of a defeated nation, extremisms like fascism or communism thrived—and if he set his mind to it, Beomhyeok could rally followers like this anytime and stir up a real commotion.
But... was causing a ruckus in this tiny village really his goal? No, Beomhyeok craved bigger waters. It'd be grand to rebuild the Kaiser's empire under a Führer, etching his name in cosmic history and making the universe tremble in fear!
He dreamed of leading his own shirt legion in black-shirt marches or a Munich Putsch of his own, planting fascist eagle flags across this Earth he trod. But with his modest superpowers, rampaging openly would soon land him wanted, arrested, or shot dead.
The universe was vast, teeming with superhumans far stronger than him. He couldn't know how rare his powers were galaxy-wide, but he was certain of one thing.
Not yet... the time hadn't come. Contrary to popular prejudice, superhumans could efficiently control and conceal their auras through superior intellect, no matter how potent their abilities.
Even if he hid his superhuman presence, his bizarre attire, looks, and oratory made him stand out—but no one dared pick a fight with a 190cm slab of a fifteen-year-old.
"Where the hell have you been wandering off to all this time? Eat and then head out again? Do you even remember why I named you Beomhyeok...?"
"If I become a revolutionary, it'll be as one who revolts against the revolution."
Flashing that cold sneer at his father, Beomhyeok left home, deciding to skip speech practice today and design weapons useful for the coming new war while biding his time.
First off, with the imperial battle fleet scuttled at Scapa Flow and vanished into history's shadows, rebuilding it was top priority. Time to design grand, beautiful warships. He'd heard tales of elite superhumans slicing even those behemoths like paper, but ships weren't useless for all that.
Even excluding the mass suicide of the space fleet, the Atlantis National Defense Forces had suffered catastrophic losses in the Great War. So, let's sketch some decent bombers, fighters, transports, tanks, laser cannons—whatever works.
The author of My Struggle wrote: "If a state's instruments of power lead the people to ruin, resistance is not only the right of every citizen but their duty." The "state" called the Lucid Empire was dragging the "people" of Atlantis to "ruin," so to live up to his idol's words, he'd need mountains of weapons.
Not thousands or millions or billions, but trillions—enough to arm vast legions, all standardized. Ngh, that means designing not just the weapons but the factories and production lines too.
He traveled here and there, sketching weapons, devising tactics and strategies around them. With a brain rivaling supercomputers, he even ran war games. On an Earth where radiation poisoned most land, making farming impossible, there wasn't much else to do anyway.
Every day, his father sighed at the son who roamed far and returned late.
"Sigh... Fine, do as you will. You're old enough to judge for yourself now... It's not my place to interfere anymore."
"Father! You've finally acknowledged me!"
"Acknowledge? What father wouldn't support his son?"
His father wasn't thrilled about the fascism obsession, but since the goal aligned with reclaiming Atlantis's independence, he accepted it. All roads led to independence anyway.
Convinced of his father's full approval, Beomhyeok justified his fervor and plunged even deeper into fascist studies. He earnestly hoped one day Atlantis would reclaim its G1 status, welcoming him as a crusader against the evil Judeo-Bolshevism.
"Hey, why's that guy dressing like a soldier when he's not even in the army?"
"Dunno. Asked once... Think his head's messed up."
"Guy was so smart, then suddenly goes nuts over something..."
Some of Beomhyeok's friends gossiped behind his back about his weapon designs sans engineering creds, his speeches sans political office—convinced he was crazy. They didn't know exactly what gripped him, but reactions ran to "Why'd a face and brain like that fall for that?"
Of course, as noted, those intimidated by his hulking build only badmouthed him out of sight—no one confronted him to his face.
"Why talk smack about Beomhyeok? Don't you know how smart he is?!"
"You lot can't even write your names right—why so chatty? You know calculus like Beomhyeok?!"
"Hey, no harm meant... Uh, let's bounce!"
When the haters gossiped, fans smitten by his looks and genius often jumped in to defend him, outnumbered detractors slinking away quick.
Wittingly or not, his every move had become village talk. In a reality where no amount of toil escaped poverty, more and more desperate souls tuned into his words.
The idle joined his speeches to kill boredom and gloom, and Beomhyeok found life's purpose there. Thus, Atlantis fascism sprouted from one heart at a time.