Igniting the Third Wave in Berlin
As I stepped into the DDRAP Berlin branch headquarters, cheers erupted like thunder. The Berlin branch had already grown to this size—larger even than the Munich headquarters.
"Hail Falkenrain!"
"Hail, my Führer!"
Walking down the red carpet laid out in a straight line, the party members rose in unison and saluted me in the DDRAP style. It was commonly known as the "Third Reich salute (Drittes Reich Gruß)." The gesture symbolized our unity as one—clenching the fist tight and thrusting it toward the sky.
Under everyone's gaze, I raised my hand once in acknowledgment before taking the podium at the DDRAP Berlin headquarters. Then, I scanned the new faces I hadn't seen in Munich, one by one.
"Great pioneers of the German Third Reich. And you, the common folk and citizens of Germany."
My voice, slightly amplified through the microphone, flowed out. The crowd's cheers died down, falling silent. It was their first time meeting me in person, yet they'd gathered here for DDRAP. I was deeply moved.
We had to devour Germany. And seize victory for Germany. To me, these people were the vanguard of victory—the firewood that would carve my path back to South Korea. How could I not be grateful?
"I, Fritz Lucas Ernst von Falkenrain, have returned to Berlin. The reason I've come back to my hometown is to realize boundless glory for the future of the German Empire. Yet my heart is heavy. Some say of me, Falkenrain!"
I paused deliberately after those words. As I'd said, silence draws in people's attention. It builds anticipation for my next line, making them fidget with impatience. Savoring that silence, I opened my mouth again.
"That I, Falkenrain, cannot save Germany. The SPD says! That I, Falkenrain, am merely a right-wing capitalist! The National People's Party says! That I, Falkenrain, am a traitorous right-winger! They claim! That Falkenrain will fail, and the Third Reich has no future!"
"Lies!"
"Nonsense!"
"Then I ask you all!"
I slammed the table and thrust my hand toward the audience, pointing at them one by one. A group is individuals, and individuals are the group. All become one, and one becomes all—like a wave. This was the Third Wave. The Third Reich movement.
"Do you trust me completely?"
"We trust you!"
"If necessary, will you follow me completely with a unity stronger than any imagination, for the revival of the Third Reich?"
"We will!"
"To raise the Third Wave, will you unite, believe in me, protect me, become the shield of the fatherland that safeguards the nation, share its pains and sorrows, and steel yourselves for the greatest and most arduous task in history!?"
"Hail! Falkenrain!"
"For the German Empire, will you forsake being mere individuals, declare yourselves Germany itself, and vow nobly to overcome any hardship and adversity!?"
"Hail! Falkenrain!"
"Sieg Heil!"
"Sieg Heil!"
"Sieg Heil!"
It wasn't hard to seize control of the atmosphere inside the Berlin headquarters. These people, already blinded by fanaticism, would cheer "Hail Falkenrain! Hail Führer!" no matter what I said.
It was... a bit sad, perhaps. But I had to use them. I needed to ignite their emotions to blaze the trail home.
Clenching my fist, I pressed on with the speech.
"You have declared your faith in me! This will ripple out as a wave across all of Germany! Today, I have gained my strongest allies! The alliance of the German people! The alliance of the wave!"
"Hail Falkenrain!"
"You party members are the ones who declared you will save the nation by following me—so now, as proud pioneers of the German Empire, you will shoulder any burden for building the Third Reich! Our cry will become a wave that shakes the world with its majesty! Patriotic citizens! Rise resolutely and unleash the wave!"
I raised both fists high, sweat dripping down. At my fervent display, people leaped from their seats in cheers. Applause poured in like a torrent. Countless voices chanted my name; countless performed the Third Reich salute.
I handed the overheated event hall to Max Amann and returned to the party leader's office.
"Haa..."
"Great work, Lucas. That was incredible, though..."
The moment the door closed, I let out a sigh and collapsed. Hitler was remarkable—he had the stamina left after such performances. Of course, Hitler probably wasn't physically superior to me. But he enjoyed speeches and the crowd's reactions. I, mimicking him, had to rack my brain furiously and burn energy even mid-speech.
That was the difference in stamina drain.
"Catalina. That's enough now, right? Let's go home. Politics is just a bunch of boring stuff in your eyes."
"It was super fun, though? And your speech was amazing. Way better than ten years ago."
I nodded at Catalina's words. Back during World War I, I'd practiced speeches and scripts in the trenches, but compared to then, I'd improved leaps and bounds. Sometimes even I was surprised. Now, speeches flowed not just from calculation, but instinct.
It felt like I was becoming more like Hitler—unsettling, at times.
"My speeches have a role model."
"A role model? First time hearing that."
"Of course. That role model died in the Great War. Took a bullet to the head right in front of me."
"...I'm sorry, Lucas."
"No need to apologize."
I killed him...
Anyway, with this, I'd properly stamped my face in Berlin. No one would question the party leader's leadership anymore, confined to Munich. I hoped the first impression wasn't bad.
Thus, the moment I arrived in Berlin, I gave a speech. With it, I firmly disciplined the party members before fully taking over the DDRAP Berlin branch from Max Amann.
I decided to relocate the party headquarters to Berlin and summoned all executives—including Krichz, Hanfstaengl, and Hess—to Berlin.
The reason for going this far? Time was running short.
May 20, 1928. Germany's fifth general election loomed.
This fifth election was a crucial stage to test DDRAP's political power—a once-in-a-lifetime chance, as missing it meant twiddling thumbs for years.
It was now December 1927. With only about six months until the next election, we had to maximize support.
"That's why I've gathered you all. Max Amann—your role is especially vital."
I clapped Amann on the shoulder. He nodded.
He no longer ran the "Bavarian Workers' Newspaper" but the new "New Germany Newspaper." This paper was the core of our party promotion.
"Just publish the key information DDRAP demands. It's simple but crucial. Keep doing what you're doing."
"My Führer. I won't disappoint you."
I nodded. Now, the crux: While promoting the party through promotion, the real key was attacking rival parties.
Not with Wave Corps violence—now a legitimate group, we had to avoid illegal tactics.
"Information overload, they call it. Rudolf Hess. And Yahn. You two, leak info to rival papers as I direct. Little by little, like breaking news—and a lot of it."
Information overload. Hard to imagine in this pre-internet era, but excess info is as deadly as scarcity.
As groundwork to attack other parties, I'd sow chaos with "Breaking news!" or "Not confirmed, but..." rumors. Undermining rival papers' credibility.
"Once they distrust competitors, they'll subscribe to ours naturally. That's our moment. Reel them in slowly. I'll assign Goebbels to this."
"Führer. I'll give it my all."
"Don't disappoint me, Goebbels."
I put Goebbels on capturing people through papers. Amann and Goebbels for newspapers; Krichz and Hess for leaks.
Finally, Hanfstaengl.
"Mr. Hanfstaengl. Thank you immensely for believing in and supporting DDRAP thus far. I have two requests. First, 'Hjalmar Schacht.' Arrange a meeting with him."
"Not difficult, Mr. Falkenrain."
"Second, we need Jewish money. Germany rejects Jews regardless of left or right. Conversely, bait them with Zionism. Britain holds Palestine as a colony—promise support for their independence there if they back Germany."
"Will they believe that?"
"They will. Probably."
They had no choices. Hanfstaengl, once a businessman, had vast connections. Ignoring them would be foolish.
Politics runs on money. With enough, you seize the press; with the press, you mold the masses' thoughts.
Once we dominated media, I'd liken SPD-NPP collusion to "backroom dealings," criticizing it while chopping a few Junkers' heads.
Germans needed an "enemy," after all.
Thus, all plans were delegated to the executives. DDRAP's desperate struggle for the election began.