Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology - Chapter 1099

Chapter 1099: The Olympics (9)

Georgios Paleologos stood in front of the crowd, his expression sombre, his eyes tinged with a little sadness. As soon as he came forward, all the young students holding the banners of quit Greek calmed down, and placed their attention on their general Secretary.

Georgios Paleologos took a deep breath and looked around, ” My dear students, ” he spoke, his voice…loud…and clear, sonorous, ” the future of our great nation, I can understand your emotions,” he nodded, ” I really do. Because I feel the same way when I get to know that some Western European countries are trying to destabilise our nation with the help of extremist terrorists. Like you, I too am angry, it boils my blood,” he clenched his fist as it visibly trembled, ” however, unfortunately, emotions alone are not enough to bring justice.”

” The terrorists have been killed, and the nobles who funded these terrorists are not from our nation, but I have had a good talk with the representative of the British. I have presented the facts and evidence, and he understands our indignation.”

” The message will be relayed back to the king of England so that the noble who took part in this vile activity will be extradited to our land and will be brought to justice in the land.”

He swept his gaze across the crowd, lifting his head with a pride that overflowed, looking defiant. “So, dear students, calm yourselves and disperse. The Olympics are the heart of my plan to bring Greek civilisation back to life. I refuse to watch it burn because of a handful of cowards.”

His voice deepened, carrying a raw, unpolished force. “Let’s show them what we are made of. They threw their sharpest blade at us, and look, we’re still standing. Unshaken. Unbroken. Because we are Greece.”

His chest rose sharply, emotion tightening every word. His fist clenched until his knuckles whitened. “We may not be the strongest, but, by God, we will ‘never’ bend.”

With that, he punched the air, his voice exploding into a roar that rolled through the crowd like thunder.

Teenagers are naturally hot-blooded, so after hearing the speech from their General Secretary, they couldn’t stay still anymore; they erupted, roaring with everything they had.

Vijay, looking at all this from a distance, shook his head with a smile, ” No wonder this guy is the leader, the way he talks naturally resonates with the people.” The only problem for Vijay is that he seems to be taking Greece farther and farther into the arms of fascism, where the state is valued much more than the individual, and radical nationalisation. These are very bad things for the people of the country, but it is even worse for the countries surrounding it, because countries with these ideologies tend to be more aggressive and combative, but “haha”, isn’t this what he wanted? A thorn in the butt of the European nations? As long as this storm is pointed at the Europeans themselves, Vijay had no qualms about how the Greeks ruled themselves.

Unlike Vijay, who seemed to be amused, Matthew Horrington had an ugly look on his face. The fact that the noble from his country was already declared a fugitive even without the negotiations made him annoyed. Shouldn’t the discussions be done in private so that the exchange of interest can be smoother? What’s the point of making everything public?

This is the point where Matthew Horrington did not understand: UGSR is not a kingdom or an empire, but a communist socialist republic where the rulers are not nobles, and they do not operate under the same framework that nobles do. But of course, this concept was extremely new to Europe, and people would slowly, in the future, understand what a communist and socialist country was and how it operated.

Duke Olivera was also present in the Olympic Village, a satisfied smile resting on his face. The British stumbling was always good news for the Portuguese; it meant the bond between Portugal and the Greek Republic would only grow stronger, giving Portugal more weight in Mediterranean affairs.

Ezekiel Oppenheimer, meanwhile, stood deep in thought. He didn’t have full insight into Greece’s internal matters, but as a neighbour and an ally, he knew more than most about what had happened in the Greek Republic over the last few days. And he couldn’t help wondering what the Bharatiya Empire was really aiming for.

The kings of Southeast Asia and the representatives from East Asia were completely confused. They had no intelligence networks inside Greece, so they were in the dark. But people in high positions develop a sense for oddities, and something about the situation smelled off. Even if the official explanation sounded logical, it was still strange that the Greeks were only blamed for “unnecessary collateral deaths” during the terror attacks and nothing more.

They knew, just like everyone in their position, that the state is never not responsible; there is always some level of deliberateness from the state, but they were in a foreign land, in a country they had no diplomatic relations with, apart from trade between merchants once in a while. They had no intention of meddling in affairs they had no business meddling in; besides, digging into the backyards of a random person is always rude.

So they stayed silent, just like everyone else, and acted as if nothing ever happened at all.

A few days passed, and the people’s attention turned back to the Olympics once again.

In fact, even while everything was going down, the games had not stopped. In the last few days, the track and field events were held.

The games involved were the classical shot put, discus throw, hammer throw, javelin throw, high jump, pole vault, long jump, triple jump, and the various sprints, runs, and relays.

Once again, the athletes of the Bharatiya Empire, the ones who received the complete investment of the Bharatiya Empire’s Olympic Committee, emerged as the clear winners, securing more than ten gold medals, several silver, and dozens of bronze across both the men’s and women’s divisions.

The second-place position in the track and field events was harder to pin down. No single country dominated; instead, various European nations picked up gold, silver, and bronze in scattered events. After all, Southeast Asians and Asians in general tend to be smaller than their European counterparts, due to reasons ranging from diet to genetics to deep evolutionary history, a disadvantage in athletics unless backed by heavy investment.

But, as always, several African nations delivered stunning performances, unexpectedly seizing three gold medals in events where the Bharatiya Empire should have dominated.

The next event is something that people were looking forward to: combat sports. Everyone likes a nice brawl, especially the Europeans who made it a freaking sport in the form of a gladiatorial arena. Of course, those fights ended because, honestly, it was degenerate, but now that it is back in the form of an actual sport where people willingly participate, the European audience was happy and back at the stadium with their pockets full of cash.

The first event was wrestling in the 52 to 57 kilogram freestyle category, also known as the flyweight division.

A lot of countries completely gave up in the qualifiers alone after witnessing the level of competition brought forward by the top contenders like the Bharatiya Empire, the Russian Empire, Slavic Byzantium, Austria, Prussia, Sweden, and Ming.

But it did make for a much more entertaining game, so when the match was announced between the rival athletes of Russia and Slavic Byzantium, the competition turned immediately heated.

The arena trembled with anticipation as the two wrestlers stepped forward: the representative of the Russian Empire, Mikhail Vasiliev, and the pride of Slavic Byzantium, Stefan Dragović. Both men were built like predators carved out of stone, their eyes sharp, their breaths slow and heavy, their expressions silent declarations that only one of them would walk away standing.

The audience leaned forward instinctively. Kings, diplomats, envoys, everyone felt the tension. Even Vijay, sitting with folded arms, narrowed his eyes with mild interest. The Europeans were louder, shouting in their guttural tongues, raising their national flags high. The Bharatiyas observed with a calmer curiosity, but even they could not help but get excited from the thrilling atmosphere they felt

The referee signalled.

The match began.

The two Slavs circled each other carefully, their steps light despite the weight of their bodies. Stefan struck first, lunging low, aiming for a quick ankle pick. Mikhail reacted almost instantly, twisting his foot free and countering with a brutal shove that made the mat vibrate. The audience gasped, but Stefan only grinned, wiping the sweat forming on his brow.

They clashed again. Hands locked. Foreheads pressed. Shoulders flexed with frightening strength. For a moment, they were perfectly still, like two bulls testing each other before the impact.

Then Stefan exploded upward, gripping Mikhail’s waist and attempting a lift. His muscles bulged, veins stood out, but Mikhail planted his legs deep into the mat and refused to budge. With a sudden twist of his hip, he reversed the momentum, sending Stefan stumbling backwards.

Somewhere in the audience, Yogendra Singh slapped his knee with excitement. A Portuguese noble whistled in admiration. Even Matthew Horrington, still irritated with the politics of the previous days, let out a soft hum, getting interested in the match.

Stefan recovered quickly and launched a rapid assault. His arms shot forward like spears, locking around Mikhail’s torso. In the same instant he swept Mikhail’s leg and brought him crashing to the mat. The stadium roared. The Slavic Byzantine supporters stood up cheering loudly, thinking victory was in their grasp.

But the Russian refused to yield.

Before Stefan could secure the pin, Mikhail twisted his upper body with the force of a man refusing the shame of defeat. His elbow dug sharply into Stefan’s grip, breaking it apart, and he rolled free. In the same motion he leapt behind Stefan and clamped his arms around Stefan’s waist.

This time the lift succeeded.

Stefan’s feet left the ground.

Gasps filled the air, followed by stunned silence as Mikhail executed a perfect suplex, slamming Stefan onto the mat with bone rattling force. A king from East Asia instinctively rose from his seat, his face frozen in disbelief. Even Vijay blinked, murmuring under his breath.

Stefan groaned, struggling to rise, but Mikhail was already on him. He locked his arms around Stefan’s shoulder and neck, forcing him down, inch by inch, until Stefan’s shoulders were firmly pressed against the mat.

The referee dropped.

One.

Two.

Three.

The arena erupted.

Mikhail Vasiliev had won.

P.S. Sorry this chap is a little rushed

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