The Gathering of Giants
Indeed, as befitting the greatest Olympics in history, the lineup of attending heads of state and diplomats was spectacular. Including Germany's Ludendorff, it was safe to say that almost every head of state from the Prague Treaty Organization was in attendance. Of course, the Greek President and the grandmaster of the German Military Cooperative Federation were there as well, but...
The most eye-catching figures were an Asian man seated in the VIP section, and a Black man staring at him with deeply envious eyes.
"Prime Minister Ho Chi Minh! Thank you for traveling such a long way to be here."
"Vietnam has struck gold thanks to you, Vice Chairman. How could I not come to grace this occasion?"
And the man staring at him with jealous eyes was none other than the Regent and Crown Prince of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie.
To be honest, though I had sent invitations to heads of state worldwide, I hadn't expected him to actually show up.
"Are you not Crown Prince Haile Selassie? You have truly come from afar. Thank you for making such an arduous journey."
"The brilliant achievements of Kaiser Ferdinand during his time as Crown Prince are truly an inspiration to us all."
"I shall convey your kind words to the Kaiser."
"Soon, the entire world will be united under Stahlism. We in Ethiopia also wish to actively adopt Stahlism and leap forward into the ranks of developed nations. It is a matter of great regret that we could not send an athletic delegation, as our state affairs are not yet fully in order."
Seeing him heap such golden praise on me... I could easily guess his motive. He undoubtedly wants to join the Prague Treaty Organization.
While smiling brightly and shaking hands, I scanned the faces of the other heads of state. Looking at the mug of Winston Churchill, who was attending on behalf of the British Prime Minister, his thoughts were equally transparent. He was practically radiating discontent.
Suppressing my irritation, I approached Churchill and offered my hand.
"As comrades who weathered the storm of war together, the passing of Prime Minister Herbert is truly... humanity has lost a precious figure."
"Hmph!"
This absolute bastard!
In truth, I had been displeased from the start that Britain had sent a mere 'undersecretary' to a gathering of global heads of state without so much as an explanation. Still, I had tolerated it. Sending a heavyweight like Churchill was enough to satisfy diplomatic courtesy.
But... is this guy really the Foreign Undersecretary? It was my first time seeing a diplomat in charge of international relations snub a handshake at another country's event.
Actually, I knew exactly why he was acting like this. To give Britain a nice, hard slap in the face, I had invited not only Representative Kim Kyu-sik of the Manchuria Development Cooperative, but also Jawaharlal Nehru.
Hmm... I suppose he has a right to be mad.
"Ha, haha..."
Patience. Let's just bear with it. This event already has enough problems.
"By the way, is it truly wise to have the headquarters of the Prague Treaty Organization's clearing bank in Vienna? The streets are absolutely crawling with homeless people."
"......"
"Before long, the true, absurd reality of this system will be laid bare."
The atmosphere instantly turned ice-cold. Does this guy not have a brain?
Unwilling to let him ruin the mood on the very first day, I coldly ignored the suddenly raving Churchill and approached General Secretary Nikolai Bukharin, who was standing nearby.
Bukharin, the young and gentle General Secretary whose bloody post-revolution purges had been handled on his behalf by General Brusilov, was watching the situation unfold with an amused expression.
Beside him, Leon Trotsky, the Prime Minister of Warsaw, was glaring at Churchill as if looking at a complete lunatic.
Trotsky raised his voice, making sure Churchill could hear him clearly.
"Although our Poland is also a participant, I honestly have no doubt that the Prague Treaty Organization is merely a new form of 'colonialism'!"
"...?"
"That must be why he's throwing such a fit. He's terrified Ethiopia will be integrated as a colony next."
What is his deal now...? Poland is sucking up every drop of sweet nectar they can get from the Treaty Organization...
"But at the very least, Churchill is the last person who should be talking. Why don't you go back to the Baltic Sea and turn your own citizens into water ghosts again?"
"W-What did you just say?!"
"Did I say something wrong? After slaughtering so many Indians, with what face do you shamelessly stand here? Hurry up and accept Vice Chairman Shtal's handshake!"
Churchill's face flushed a deep, violent crimson, looking as though he had been drinking in the middle of the day. I imagined Guan Yu must have looked something like that...
Trotsky probably thought he was defending me in his own way, but he had only succeeded in ruining the atmosphere further! No, wait. A silver-tongued devil like Trotsky was undoubtedly trying to mock both me and Churchill at the same time.
I scanned the crowd once more. Excluding Trotsky, the heads of state of the Prague Treaty Organization members looked utterly dumbfounded by Churchill's outrageous behavior.
Meanwhile, Charles G. Dawes, the US Vice President representing the Calvin Coolidge administration, was watching the spectacle with keen interest, subtly showing his support for Churchill.
Hmm... The US wouldn't be comfortable with me constantly stirring up trouble in the Far East.
But wait, Benito Mussolini! Why on earth are you glaring at the Ethiopian Crown Prince with such a terrifying look?!
This is truly the barbaric 20th century for you. Even Tsar Putin, a warmonger destined to go down in history, didn't dare to make a scene at the Olympics, which were held under the banner of global unity. Of course, launching a war during the Olympics is a far greater catastrophe than throwing a tantrum at the opening ceremony, but still.
"Now, now, let's keep things civil. This is the Olympics, after all, is it not? I hear the Grand Martial Arts Exhibition is scheduled for the first day. Let's watch that and part on good terms!"
The oldest and highest-ranking leader in terms of protocol, French President Georges Clemenceau, actually showed he had a brain and stepped in to defuse the situation.
Despite holding the title of President, Georges Clemenceau never missed his sacred daily routine of writing newspaper columns bashing me. Yet, surprisingly, he seemed to have arrived with good intentions today.
Even though I had mocked him once by saying, "I've been reading your columns and learning a lot~," seeing him help de-escalate the situation made me feel a bit guilty. To be honest, I also felt slightly bad that Lenin had gone completely off the rails in India, which was beyond my expectations.
I should make sure to treat France well in the future. If they show a slightly more cooperative attitude, I might even offer them the second-highest seat in the Prague Treaty Organization, right behind Germany.
I quickly jumped on Georges Clemenceau's intervention to calm the waters.
"I apologize if Austria's actions have caused any discomfort. However... is this not a sacred arena where athletes from all nations compete in the true spirit of sportsmanship? I pray you let go of your anger and enjoy the opening matches."
With Georges Clemenceau stepping in, the commotion among the heads of state finally subsided.
Sigh. Why are the leaders of the world acting like this? It's like a bloody kindergarten.
And Mussolini, for the love of God, could you please stop glaring at the Ethiopian Crown Prince?!
The event held on the opening day was indeed 'martial arts.' This was definitely a gamble on my part.
"Ah, is Japan's Karate shining here?"
"The Karate practitioner, Kiyomishi! He has struck the back of the American athlete's head with his elbow!"
"Wait a moment! Smith, the American athlete, is foaming at the mouth and collapsing!"
The crowd's reaction was absolutely explosive.
"Whoa, is it over already?"
"Kill him! Kill that bastard!"
"Hey, Smith! Get the hell up! Do you know how much money I bet on you?!"
From the very first match, the American athlete was carried out on a stretcher, foaming at the mouth with his eyes rolled back.
I watched the heads of state with an anxious gaze. Excluding lunatics like Churchill and Trotsky, everyone was struggling to maintain their composure.
Sure, my original goal of making the event a 'box office hit' was a massive success. But... there was a reason the Olympics usually stuck to 'refined' sports. Even in football, which was beloved worldwide, didn't they intentionally impose age limits?
"What is this... For the next Olympics, why don't you just make 'dog fighting' an official sport?"
"Prime Minister Churchill, I beg to differ."
"Hmm? Trotsky?"
"Since people are already dying from the very first match, why not just create an event called 'War' where they can shoot each other for fun?"
"Bwahaha! I like the sound of that!"
I was deeply annoyed by the double act of Trotsky and Churchill, but honestly, I had no defense.
I checked the faces of the Japanese Deputy Prime Minister and the US Vice President. Unlike the other leaders, the US Vice President was struggling to keep his expression neutral in the face of such brutal, murderous martial arts...
Meanwhile, the face of the Japanese Deputy Prime Minister, who was still walking on eggshells around the US and Britain, had completely soured. Even if it was just a sport, a Japanese athlete had just beaten an American athlete to near-death. There was no way the Japanese delegation could feel at ease.
This is driving me crazy. I'm so embarrassed I can't even lift my head!
"Vice Chairman Shtal!"
"Ah, yes? President Clemenceau?"
"Do not pay them any mind. Is it not just a sport? Both Kiyomishi and Smith simply did their absolute best."
"......"
"Though we might need to set some boundaries on the level of violence for the next matches, haha! Mistakes are bound to happen on the first try."
Georges Clemenceau! Even though he had run out of things to write in his columns and resorted to absolute nonsense—claiming I had received the Mark of the Beast from the Book of Revelation, or that the Kaiser and I were secret lovers—he was actually a decent guy deep down!
I bowed deeply to Georges Clemenceau, who was proving to be the most gentlemanly figure in this entire gathering.
No matter how powerful a leader is, they cannot decide major state affairs based solely on personal relationships and impressions of other heads of state. Even so, I could not deny that I was deeply moved by Clemenceau's warm words.
Or so I thought...
There is no denying that the First World War in the original history birthed a complete distrust in the modern 'concept of humanity'—specifically, 'human reason.'
The 'thinking self' derived from Cogito, ergo sum. A world centered on reason was utterly shattered in the horrific slaughter between Britain, France, and Germany.
Consequently, some thinkers abandoned rationality to search for something else.
In Descartes' world, the 'rational human' is equal regardless of nation or race. But what if that was a complete lie?
And in place of dusty, obsolete garbage like 'reason' and 'rationality,' some unearthed 'nation,' 'myth,' 'bloodline,' 'eugenics,' and 'the collective.'
Just listing these words evokes the most horrific things imaginable. Yes, while rational and reasonable humans are fine, some humans are 'more rational and reasonable than others!' From that seed, Nazism was born.
However, the Black-White War in this timeline went even further. Unlike the original First World War, the ideological landscape had already reached its absolute limit. Having thrown modern reason into the trash, they had proceeded to dump 'nationalism' into the latrine as well.
After all, with multi-ethnic empires like the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Ottoman Empire alive and thriving, what room was there for nationalism? Furthermore, the 'supranational international organization' known as the Prague Treaty Organization was enjoying immense success.
Consequently, the Gallian National Party envisioned by Philippe Pétain, Charles de Gaulle, and Georges Clemenceau enjoyed absolutely no popularity.
"...Are we truly the 'Napoleons' destined to save the French nation?"
"Even though we managed to enter mainstream politics through President Georges Clemenceau's personal popularity, this might be our limit, General Philippe Pétain."
Pétain and de Gaulle, drowning in such despair, found their wine exceptionally sour and bitter tonight.
Just then, an old comrade stumbled into the wine bar, accompanied by an avant-garde-looking young man.
Pétain, thinking his old brother-in-arms, General Auguste Dubail, had finally crawled out of his vegetative state, smiled warmly.
To be sure, General Auguste Dubail was no longer a vegetable. He had become something far more terrifying.
He looked like a doll stitched together from the skins of corpses, with someone desperately insisting it was a living human.
His eyes were completely mad. Yet, it was hard to say he was dead. Those eyes seemed to be staring not at the living world, but directly into the underworld of Hades.
"Long... time no see, Pétain."
"Du... bail?"
"Nothing major. I simply heard you were struggling with your revolutionary activities."
"Y-You... what on earth happened to you?"
"What... happened?"
Auguste Dubail, now a veritable Frankenstein's monster, laughed like a broken doll.
"Kek, kek, kek, kek, kek, kek, kek, kek..."
"Dubail!"
"I have finally faced the truth. Thanks to this young man here, Antonin Artaud."
"Antonin...?"
With Dubail's introduction finished, Antonin Artaud finally took a seat in the dark corner of the wine bar.
"Pleasure to meet you. I am Antonin Artaud."
"Did you... did you make our comrade like this?"
"It would be more accurate to say General Dubail chose me. He, too, dreamed of a 'New France.' But why did he not seek out General Pétain and Monsieur de Gaulle?"
"......"
"Because you, Monsieur Charles de Gaulle, have been wandering from bar to bar, babbling about outdated, cliché concepts like 'French glory' and 'restoring the colonies.' That is why you were destined to fail."
At the blatant insult, Charles de Gaulle kicked back his chair and stood up, but he froze under the young man's mystical, hypnotic gaze.
Charles de Gaulle was a soldier, but he was certainly no demagogue. There are very few individuals who can suppress a crowd with a single glance.
Artaud spoke in a cold, detached voice.
"A second Napoleon is a myth. Our 'New France' does not need a Napoleon."
"...Then what does it need?"
"Or rather, let me rephrase. Honestly, the public might even be tired of 'France' itself. What if we strip away 'France' and simply call it 'The New'?"
"You're speaking in riddles. What is it you want to say?"
"France needs a second Joan of Arc. I have heard the divine revelation."
"Kek, kek, kek, kek, kek, kek, kek..."
The broken doll's laughter echoed through the wine bar.
Pétain and de Gaulle, unable to lift a single finger, found themselves slowly being consumed by the words of the young man, Antonin Artaud.