Chapter 2: Deepthroat

The governor of Bavaria, Karl, the commander of the Bavarian Defense Forces, Losov, and the state police chief, Sessel, were all Bavarian separatists, trying to maintain the monarchy and resist the government of the Weimar Republic.

Hitler, a veteran of World War I, had once been deeply loyal to the German emperor. He had fought for the Kaiser. Although his political views had since changed, he and the Bavarian leadership still shared common ground in their opposition to the Weimar Republic.

Now, these three men were the targets of the coup, and Cyric, well-versed in history, knew what was coming next. He held an MP18 submachine gun in his hand, following behind Göring and staying close to Hitler.

The gun, with its distinctive barrel and heat-dissipation holes, looked menacing. Holding the 32-round magazine in his left hand, Cyric felt a sense of power. As his muzzle swept over certain individuals, fear flashed across their faces. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of those bullets.

"You, you, you—get up and follow me!" Göring barked at the three men. Cyric's gun was pointed right at them.

Karl was pale, his legs trembling, while Losov and Sessel remained calmer. The two exchanged glances and then supported Karl as they were escorted by the stormtroopers to an adjacent room.

Hitler holstered his pistol, now feeling firmly in control of the situation. His confidence was palpable as he prepared to convince these men to join him.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Hitler began, his tone full of self-assurance. "This is for the good of Germany. A great national revolution is underway, and Germany will be reborn because of it! Our uprising has the support of General Ludendorff!"

Hitler, an exceptional orator, was in his element. Cyric, standing nearby, couldn't help but admire his skill at stirring emotions.

Having realized that he had traveled through time and now embodied Cyric, Cyric had made peace with his new reality. This was a time of chaos, and chaos had its own laws. His in-depth knowledge of World War II had led him to a conclusion: Only Hitler had the vision to pull Germany out of the post-World War I shadow and forge the Third Reich that would sweep across Europe.

Now, as Hitler basked in his delusion of imminent victory, Cyric, knowing the outcome, found it hard not to get swept up in the moment.

Erich von Ludendorff, a general and former chief of staff of the German army, had been a prominent figure since World War I. A staunch militarist, Ludendorff had no respect for democracy. At this very moment, an important member of the Nazi party was driving to pick him up and bring him to the coup. Hitler saw Ludendorff as the ideal leader for the revolution.

But Cyric knew the truth: these three men—Karl, Losov, and Sessel—were never going to join the coup. In fact, they would escape and issue orders that would ultimately lead to Hitler's defeat.

But now, with Cyric here, history didn't have to unfold the same way. A coup that had failed in real life could succeed. The prospect excited him. Change history? Why not start now?

Hitler, still in full revolutionary mode, continued his passionate speech: "I am now going to fulfill the vow I made when I went blind in the military hospital five years ago: I will work tirelessly until the November traitor is overthrown, and I will build a strong, free, and glorious Germany on the ruins of today."

By now, Karl had regained his composure. He knew that allowing Hitler to succeed was not an option. "You can arrest me or shoot me; it doesn't matter. Death is no big deal to me."

"Really?" Cyric finally spoke, unable to restrain himself. He lifted his MP18 submachine gun with a cruel smile. "If death is no big deal, then why not die right now?"

Rather than risk letting these men escape to counter the coup, it would be better to kill them all here and now.

Even Göring was shocked. He hadn't expected Cyric, who had followed Hitler so fanatically, to be so ruthless.

All eyes were on Cyric's submachine gun, fearing what would happen if he pulled the trigger. But instead of firing, Cyric suddenly kicked Karl in the leg with full force.

"Crack!" The sound of bone breaking echoed through the room. Karl collapsed to the floor, clutching his shattered leg. His mouth opened, ready to scream.

But before he could utter a sound, Cyric shoved the barrel of his MP18 into Karl's mouth, his foot pressed hard against the governor's chest, pinning him to the floor.

Karl twisted his head in a futile attempt to free himself from the cold steel pressing into his throat. As he struggled, Cyric seized the opportunity and thrust the barrel deeper into Karl's mouth—down his throat.

Deepthroat. This was a term Cyric recalled from modern times, a concept well-known in the context of adult entertainment. But here, for Karl, it was worse than death.

He tried to scream, but he couldn't. He tried to breathe, but the gun barrel made that impossible. Saliva poured from his mouth as he let out pitiful, choking sounds.

Even Hitler was momentarily taken aback by Cyric's cruelty. He had never known this side of Cyric. But after a few seconds, a look of approval crossed his face.

After five agonizing seconds, Cyric finally withdrew the gun. Karl didn't scream. He was too weak to do anything but vomit, barely conscious as the bile dribbled from his mouth.

"Well? Still think death is no big deal?" Cyric asked, his foot still pressing down on Karl's chest. "Or would you rather have your wife and children go through the same?"