1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 337 The Shock of the Opening Ceremony

The opening ceremony of the Panathenaic Games was held at the newly renovated Panathenaic Stadium. This horseshoe-shaped stadium, constructed entirely of white marble, is the only stadium in the world built entirely of marble. It existed in ancient Greece and, at the behest of Constantine, has been restored to its former glory.

Tens of thousands of Athenian citizens poured in from every corner of the city, waving blue and white Greek flags, turning the entire stadium into a sea of ​​cheers. The enthusiastic roar almost shook the clouds in the sky.

On the most prominent platform in the stadium, ambassadors, journalists, and observers from all over Europe gathered. Many of them still held a scrutinizing, even critical, gaze, ready to witness how this small Balkan country would put on a show of "putting on a brave face."

British military attaché Major Lionel Harrison was listlessly fiddling with his monocle. He had never been interested in these nationalist fervor rallies; in his view, they were nothing more than extravagant political propaganda.

The German ambassador, Baron von Schneider, sat upright, his face bearing a touch of Prussian solemnity. His gaze lingered more on the other side of the platform, on Crown Princess Sophia, elegantly dressed in royal attire. She was a princess of their German Empire.

As King George I declared the Games open, the melodious sound of horns rang out.

The traditional athletes' contingents began to enter. They came from various regions of Greece, including wrestlers from Crete, sailors from the Ionian Islands, and young students from the University of Athens. Dressed in pristine white sportswear and carrying flags representing their respective regions, they marched past the podium amidst cheers from the audience.

All of this was expected, and it appeared solemn and traditional.

However, after the last group of athletes passed by, a series of heavy yet uniform footsteps echoed from the entrance of the stadium.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

The sound was like a giant iron hammer, each strike precisely hitting everyone's heart.

The cheers from the crowd paused eerily. All eyes were drawn to the deep entrance passage.

An extraordinary army has come into everyone's view.

They wore crisp Prussian field grey uniforms, metal helmets with spiked tips, and gleaming black boots. On their shoulders slung the latest German-made Mauser rifles, bayonets gleaming coldly at the muzzles.

They marched into the stadium in neat, orderly formations, with a precision so precise it was almost mechanical. The height of each leg lift and the amplitude of each arm swing were perfectly synchronized.

Sunlight shone on the tips of their helmets and the blades of their bayonets, reflecting thousands of dazzling, cold points of light, converging into a moving, chilling steel forest.

The area for military attachés on the podium fell into a deathly silence.

British military attaché Major Harrison's monocle fell to the ground with a "thud," but he was completely unaware. His mouth was slightly open as he stared at the army, his eyes filled with utter shock.

"God—this is—the German army?" a French military officer beside him murmured in disbelief.

"No," said the German ambassador, Baron von Schneider, his voice tinged with barely suppressed pride and complexity, "they are Greeks. They are the Greek crown princes, handcrafted by Ioannis Metaxas."

This army marched past the reviewing stand in silence, without shouting any slogans, their breathtaking steps chilling. The cold, disciplined, and menacing aura of a modern war machine weighed heavily on everyone's hearts. The European military attachés could no longer maintain their composure and elegance. They whispered amongst themselves, their faces grim. In this army, they saw the shadow of the rising German Empire on the European continent, a force that unsettled the entire world.

The model division's formation stopped in the center of the stadium, and a soldier stepped out from the ranks. He was short, dark-skinned, and looked like the typical farmer in the Greek countryside. His name was Dimitrios Papadopoulos, an army corporal.

At the other end of the stadium, 300 meters away, an officer suspended a small silver coin, no bigger than a fingernail, with a rope.

300 meters! Rifle! Hit a silver coin!

Everyone thought it was utterly unbelievable.

Dimitrios walked to the designated position without the slightest hesitation. He skillfully raised the rifle, resting the butt against his shoulder, his cheek pressed against the cool barrel.

The moment he raised his gun, the clamor of tens of thousands of people in the stadium vanished without a trace. The entire Panathinaikos Stadium was so quiet that only the sound of the wind rustling through the tops of the flags could be heard. Everyone seemed to have stopped breathing.

Dimitrios's eyes narrowed to slits. In his vision, the whole world disappeared, leaving only the crosshair and the small, silver dot of light swaying slightly in the wind three hundred meters away.

boom!

A sharp gunshot shattered the deathly silence.

Almost at the same moment the gunshot rang out, three hundred meters away, the silver coin suddenly bounced upwards and tumbled through the air.

Under the sunlight, that silvery arc, like a fleeting shooting star, was deeply imprinted on everyone's retina.

After a brief silence, the entire stadium erupted in cheers as loud as a landslide!

"Hit!"

"Oh my god! He actually hit it!"

The citizens waved their flags wildly, chanting the name they had just learned: "Dimitrios! Dimitrios!"

This shepherd's son from the Thessalian border, a corporal who had been relegated to guarding an abandoned armory after his merits were stolen by a noble officer, became a national hero of all Greece overnight, witnessed by tens of thousands of people.

On the platform, Constantine wore a satisfied expression. He had personally chosen Dimetrius to prove to everyone that in the new Greece, heroes come from all walks of life.

He walked to the front of the stage. A primitive amplification device, invented in the laboratory of Nicholas Dimitrios and consisting of horns and copper wires, clearly transmitted his voice to every corner of the stadium.

"Citizens! Friends!"

Constantine's voice was loud and powerful.

"Today, we stand here not to reminisce about past glories!"

"We stand here to proclaim the future to the world!"

"Look at the soldiers around you, they are the steel wall of Greece!"

"Look at that young sharpshooter, he comes from among you, he is the pride of the Greek people!"

"Tomorrow, you will also see the world's brightest minds, piloting the machines they have invented, making history on this land!"

Constantine opened his arms, and his voice reached its peak.

"A physically strong, intellectually free, and industrially advanced Greece is being reborn! This is our Panhellenic Revival Movement! This is our future!"

The entire stadium erupted once again. People chanted "Greece!" and "Constantine!" The heartfelt fervor and pride moved every foreigner present.

London, Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg.

Reports filled with shock were quickly transmitted back to their respective capitals via telegram.

The Times: "The military parade in Athens: A Germanized specter of the Balkans is rising."

Le Figaro: "What we are seeing is not a sporting event, but a nation's declaration of war."

The world's attention was firmly drawn to Athens. Everyone realized that the once vulnerable "European beggar" had been transformed. A young, powerful, and aggressive eagle was spreading its wings on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean.