Society of Blood (1)

Antonin Artaud gathered a diverse array of people, just as he had done with Dubail. He needed to draw in those whose systems of thought were utterly incomprehensible to common sense—proponents of surrealism, postmodernism, and the like. People who could weep while reading Nietzsche's masterpieces and monstrosities, books that seemed to transplant dreams directly onto the page. These individuals would become the driving force of the greatest revolution. Thinkers like Georges Bataille, who depicted the essence of humanity through destruction, violence, and madness; and Claude Caillou, who sought to dismantle everything from the state and politics to sex, identity, the body, the individual, dreams, and even the unconscious.

Behind these thinkers stood Pétain, Dubail, and Charles de Gaulle, clad in splendid dress uniforms. Georges Clemenceau, in a sharp suit, could not be left out either. And then, about three months before the Olympics, Antonin Artaud gathered a massive crowd and began to speak.

"...France is a concept that does not exist."

From his very first words, the crowd was struck by a wave of immense shock.

"Likewise, Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Russia do not exist. Just as that man, 'Stahl,' once said."

A shocking declaration that defied imagination! It was a statement that should have prompted the moderate crowd to throw tomatoes or eggs, and the more radical ones to pick up cobblestones. Hitler had masterfully dominated crowds with his artistic fervor, but Antonin Artaud, who called himself 'Joan of Arc,' possessed a strange, different kind of power. Beneath a calmness that seemed to pierce the very abyss of the world, no one dared to break the silence.

"Stahl is a despicable compromise-monger. If nation, culture, borders, and bloodlines... if none of these exist, then what is the purpose of the state? Must the state exist?"

One brave soul in the crowd, overcoming his fear of the abyss, shouted toward Antonin.

"B-but... unlike abstract things like nation and culture... the state actually exists, doesn't it?! A-are you an anarchist?"

Antonin shook his head coldly.

"The state does not exist."

"B-but..."

"What exists is only... pure violence. The state is merely a formality."

It was incomprehensibly radical. To a sane mind, such a concept was impossible to accept. It shouldn't be accepted. However, in a society where parliamentary democracy, reason, rationality, and even capital were collapsing—a society where, for ten years since the Great War, every problem had been solved solely through 'violence'—the hearts of the French people unconsciously absorbed this extreme ideology like a sponge.

"As Nietzsche said, man is defined solely by 'power.' The instinctive expression of power is violence, and its political expression is authority. The Will to Power—man wills only power. Even when provided with housing, entertainment, food, nutrition, and health, humans still feel misery and discontent. Humans... desire only overwhelming power."

It was a leap of logic that would make Nietzsche leap out of his grave, but what did that matter? It was common for a dead thinker to rise from the earth as a devil. Totalitarianism was merely a tool favored by both the left and the right.

"We wish to be pure. Just as all humans do..."

The far-right represents an extreme regression to the past—that is, extreme conservatism. Unlike communism, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠which runs madly toward a new society to escape capitalism, far-right extremists eliminate everything ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠futuristic. Yes. The longing for purity, the longing for the pure human! That might be the very essence of the far-right.

"I have named this 'Purificationism.' The target of purification? A society stained with hypocrisy. Left-wing, right-wing, Stahlism, Marxism, nationalism... it is all bullshit, utter bullshit! They are merely tools to mock and deceive the masses to seize power."

The cause of division is hypocrisy. Ideologies stained with hypocrisy inevitably pursue inefficiency and division.

"It will not be difficult. We will spare no means or methods, including fraudulent elections and violence, to win the parliament. Our goal is but one: purification, the pure human, and a return to power!"

The French were truly a people who loved revolution. After all, 'Avant-garde Stahlism,' refined by thinkers like Freud, Picasso, Duchamp, and Lenin, had also cried out for the complete destruction of the system. Only now did strength begin to surge into Antonin's calm voice.

"We intend to destroy everything except force and power. Purity is efficiency. Only we, only we...! Only we can save this land!"

The crowd shuddered, feeling in their very bones that history was shifting once again. This was the emergence of the 'Purification Party,' centered around Antonin Artaud.

There are many ways to achieve social integration in an extremely divided society. The Nazis integrated their nation by creating an imaginary, common enemy—the 'Jews'—and completely ostracizing them. Well, their end was obvious. Far-right nationalism, whether in the original history or this one, was destined to lose its vitality in the end.

Antonin Artaud's method was similar to the Soviet Union's. Leave only the loudest, most powerful group, and sweep away all the other small fry! In a society where the cabinet dissolved every three months and more than ten political parties scrambled for power amidst the chaos, the choice made by the 'Purificationists' was brilliant. In such chaotic times, they could easily secure the support of the most powerful groups: bureaucrats obsessed with efficiency, a military obsessed with violence, and intellectuals obsessed with destruction.

Georges Clemenceau, filled with hatred for Lenin and Stahlism which had destroyed his homeland, now loved the Will to Power more than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Republic. To be more precise, he was completely sick of the Republic. Just before leaving for Vienna, he gave instructions to Antonin Artaud, Pétain, Dubail, and de Gaulle.

"Our greatest enemy is Austria. You all know this, don't you?"

"..."

"While Austria is focused on ridiculous games like the Olympics, we will make our move."

Just as Antonin Artaud had declared, they led young officers and university student rioters to storm the parliament without hesitation. From the moment they arrested all the members of parliament, the society of blood began.

"The Purification Party? Who are these dumbasses?"

"Well... Vice Chairman Stahl. If you hear their ideology, it is quite mind-boggling."

"Is it similar to that old Fart-Stahlism? It seems old man Georges has turned into a complete hippie after hanging out with Freud."

"Pardon? What is a hippie?"

"Well... they're people who pretend to be avant-garde, but just drink and pass out anywhere, and dump trash wherever they please."

If Stahl made a mistake, it was that he overlooked the Purification Party despite the mad wind they were whipping up. But even Stahl couldn't help it.

"Aren't there over twelve parties in the parliament right now? Even if they have big names like Georges Clemenceau and Pétain... can these people even make it into the parliament?"

After all, was there only one or two parties in France spouting nonsense and scrambling for power?

"No matter how I look at it, these guys seem... out of their minds."

"But, Vice Chairman Stahl. It is true that things look unusual..."

"Let's talk after they actually enter the parliament. I don't have the luxury to worry about them with the Olympics going on."

Stahl already knew from the 21st century how terrifying far-right nationalists could be, and he could have fought and blocked them long ago. However...

What? Pure violence? Adoration of the Will to Power? As a rational man, Stahl could not even begin to imagine that such insane lunatics would find 'resonance' with the French public.

And so, just as Georges Clemenceau had said, the ridiculous children's game continued.

"Ah! The French racing car has been completely wrecked during the run!"

"Wait, what's with that engine? Ah, the engine has overheated and caught fire!"

Stahl had brought future knowledge from the 21st century, but the state of the Olympics was practically like the year 3077! Explosions, speeding, and more explosions, and yet more explosions! In this fantastic dopamine show, even if people slept on the streets for over a week, the city remained in a festive mood.

If there were no hotel rooms, they could sleep in beer barrels. The drivers, risking their lives in the race, urgently instructed their co-drivers sitting next to them.

"Look, ahead... the Austrian car is going! Ram it first! Our chassis is sturdy too, so leave the rest to our teammates!"

Despite the fierce collision from the French car, the Austrian car smoothly shook off the German car and zipped right past. At the overwhelming drama unfolding on the racing circuit, the spectators cheered in unison.

"Waaaaah!"

"Kill them! Kill them!"

"Look, Lenin is escaping! Chase him down! Kill him first. We only need his head intact!"

Lenin fled the parliament, breaking out in a cold sweat. No matter how bad things were... he hadn't expected them to walk right into the parliament and start swinging blades. Was this really France, which boasted the proud tradition of revolution and republicanism?

"To do such a thing... *cough*!"

Dubail of the Purification Party, dragging his aged body, slammed violently into Lenin. Though he had become a wreck suffering from alcoholism with no muscle strength left, the physical power of an old man with nothing to lose was formidable.

"L-let go of me...!"

Lenin hastily shook Dubail off and fled the parliament.

"Lenin! Kill Lenin! Kill Lenin!"

The clash between the old man and Lenin looked quite ridiculous, and the members of the 'Purification Party' cheered wildly at the sight.

"Waaaaah!"

"Kill him! Kill him!"

Still, the race was not over. 'Team Racing' required summing the scores of both cars belonging to the team. Although they had let the first-place Austrian car go, couldn't they block the other car trailing behind?

"If we can't get the pheasant, a chicken will do! Just block the car behind!"

The plan was successful. The remaining French car clung to the trailing Austrian car with all its might, and the Austrian car was miserably wrecked. Pathetically...

Still, the purge was not over. The greatest nemesis of the Purification Party was the Stahlists. Although they had let the most threatening one, Lenin, slip away, they had to kill the spiritual pillar of the French Stahlists.

"If we can't get the pheasant, a chicken will do! We'll just kill Freud!"

Lenin, a politician who also possessed actual physical force, was a difficult target to catch from the start. But Freud was different. If they couldn't even capture an old professor who had already stepped back from politics to study the unconscious, dreams, and Stahlism at the university, then the revolution was already a failure.

"Professor Freud! You must escape!"

"...I feel as though I have experienced something like this once before."

Previously, the Avant-garde Stahlists had a tight grip on the universities, the youth, and the intellectuals, but now it was different. Just like when Stahlism first appeared, the university students were wild for Antonin Artaud's 'Purificationism.'

"But the situation seems far worse than it was back then."

"P-professor...!"

"My knees are so worn out that I cannot run even for a minute, and our enemies are everywhere."

"Y-you must go quickly!"

"Picasso, Duchamp. The evil of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world is not yet finished. Go."

"If you leave us like this, Professor, what are we to do?"

Freud recalled the past, steeped in regret.

"While I was wallowing in misery like this, the Tiger, Georges Clemenceau, broke down my door and dragged me away by force. ...How did Georges end up like that?"

Tears welled up in Freud's eyes.

"I cannot say that I bear no responsibility for all of this."

"But isn't that because Lenin went against us?!"

"Picasso, Duchamp. Let me ask you once more. Do I truly bear no responsibility for all of this? Perhaps it was indeed I who first sowed the seeds of destruction and chaos in this France?"

"..."

"History will tell. I shall now depart for the world of dreams. It is truly time for me to go. Lord, forgive the French."

Freud, the atheist who had stood at the cutting edge of modern science and philosophy. He died crying out to Christ after peering into the abyss of humanity. Pathetically, like a dying engine...

Stahl stared at the circuit, his jaw practically dropping. What? We, Austria, lost? To a ruined country like France?

Georges Clemenceau stood beside Stahl with a broad grin.

"Our potential is quite formidable, isn't it?"

"*Tsk.* Well, a loss is a loss."

Of course, Stahl didn't feel too bad. The thrilling upset of an underdog. Wasn't this the very essence of sportsmanship? The sporting spirit that would unite the people of the world.

Georges Clemenceau spoke to Stahl in a warm tone.

"Still, it is good to have an opportunity like this. Competing in fair sports instead of fighting with guns and swords on the battlefield."

"Haha. If the Olympics are held just a few more times like this, war will disappear from this world. Truly."

Agreeing with Georges, Stahl scratched his head in embarrassment.

"But from the next Olympics... I don't think we can do it like this. Fortunately, no one died, but it's a miracle no one was seriously injured."

"Haha, that is true!"

As the Tiger, Georges Clemenceau, roared with laughter, Stahl smiled along.

Then, Stahl's secretary hurriedly approached and handed him a note.

In an instant, Stahl froze like a mouse facing a cat. The laughter had completely vanished, but the corners of his mouth were still turned upward, making him look incredibly bizarre.

With that bizarre expression still on his face, Stahl stared at Georges Clemenceau.

"Hmm? What is the matter?"

"W-well..."

And the secretary hurriedly pressed another note into Stahl's hand.

Stahl quietly checked the contents of the note.

Stahl's face hardened to a terrifying degree, and the corners of his mouth trembled anxiously.

Watching Stahl's face, Georges Clemenceau's mouth stretched into a wide grin. It was a smile just as chilling as Stahl's frozen expression.

"*Pfft!* It seems something terrible has happened?"

For the first time in his life, Stahl dropped his formal honorifics in a public setting.

"Did you just... smile?"