I Am the Sole Spokesperson of the Holy Emperor 24

"M-My Lord, is there some sort of misunderstanding?" An elderly bishop began to tremble as he spoke. Long accustomed to a life of luxury, he had grown quite fat, and his rolls of flesh shook with his fear.

"A misunderstanding? What kind of misunderstanding? Are you questioning me?" Guilliman scrutinized the elderly bishop. "I helped my father build this great empire and witnessed the very birth of the Ecclesiarchy. Do you think I lack the authority to critique your actions?"

"No, no, my Lord, I have no such thoughts." The elderly bishop was on the verge of tears upon hearing this.

His mechanical ocular implant twitched; the immense pressure radiating from Guilliman stripped away any sense of the reverence he had once commanded.

It was not merely the fear of death; it was the deeper agony of having his inner faith denied by Guilliman himself.

"We have always served the Emperor with the utmost piety and have never once committed an act of defiance." Another bishop spoke up. His condition was no better, but he managed to keep his voice steady, avoiding a stutter.

"That is why I did not execute you immediately, choosing instead to come here and see for myself. If I had already possessed proof that you were heretics, it would not be me standing before you, but the Exterminatus order I had signed."

The cruelty in Guilliman's words left the bishops trembling with terror.

They could not forget that the Emperor's own son held another title: the Demigod of War.

The foundation of the Empire was built upon the ruins and slaughter of countless alien empires and human factions that refused to submit.

Every Primarch was the embodiment of war, possessing absolute coldness toward their enemies.

"My Lord, we hold absolute loyalty to the Empire and the Emperor; we are certainly not the rebels you describe."

"That's right, my Lord."

"My Lord, you must believe us. We would never have any thoughts of defying the Emperor."

Guilliman revealed a meaningful smile. "I, too, hope you were merely misled rather than truly rebellious. I have seen your piety, and I sincerely hope that your devotion is genuine."

"Our piety is genuine, my Lord."

"Indeed."

Guilliman pointed to the sinners locked in iron cages, screaming in agony. "Then can you tell me, what is that?"

"Those are heretics. They reject the Emperor's enlightenment and refuse to believe."

"We punish them so they understand the consequences of not believing in or respecting the Emperor."

"Pain will purify their souls and lead them to repentance."

"Are you saying that my father needs to use fear to recruit believers? Just like those Chaos Gods, using schemes and death to intimidate the ignorant, forcing them to kneel before the Emperor's statues and offer their faith?" Guilliman questioned the bishops coldly, the smile on his noble face turning cruel and icy.

"My Lord, that is not what we meant." The elderly bishop shouted, "We have no such thoughts."

"Yet that is exactly what you have done. You have twisted my father into a Chaos God, no different from those Warp entities loathed by humanity. You use fear as a means to preach His name, using death to coerce those people. How is what you have done any different from the Chaos traitors my father despises? Those traitors harmed my father's people, and so have you."

"Those Chaos Gods use false lies to strip people of everything, leaving them with nothing but the endurance of pain. My father detests this and swore to bring salvation to humanity, yet now, you use my father's name to commit such atrocities."

Guilliman's voice carried a terrifying fury, and everyone could clearly feel the rage in his heart.

The bishops were filled with absolute dread.

"M-My Lord." The bishop wept, "We only wished to uphold His glory."

"By using fear and blades? Heretics, you have twisted my father, distorting his mercy into fear, his kindness into cruelty, and his benevolence into bloodshed. Kneel, or I shall declare you heretics and sentence you to the pyre."

Guilliman drew the Emperor's Sword, and with a whoosh, golden flames erupted, brilliant and dazzling.

The bishops fell to their knees with a series of thuds, all of them shaking.

Guilliman glanced at them before walking toward the podium that had been prepared for his speech.

He held the Emperor's Sword high, his gaze filled with wrath.

A servo-skull with a glowing red eye hovered beside him, broadcasting his every move in real-time.

Giant projection screens appeared in every city and town across Espandor.

All the believers watched Guilliman, looking at one another in confusion, wondering why the Emperor's son had forced the bishops to kneel.

"I am the son of the Emperor, the Lord of Ultramar, the Imperial Regent, and the sole representative of the Divine Emperor in the Empire. Kneel, ignorant believers, or you shall be declared heretics."

Guilliman's voice spread across the world through the servo-skull; even in the desolate deserts, his voice echoed.

His words carried immense power and pressure, and the believers looked at each other in astonishment.

They did not understand why the Primarch would issue such a command.

Yet, out of their faith in the Emperor, they knelt nonetheless.

All the believers prostrated themselves on the ground, terrified of being declared heretics.

Those who could come to Espandor were the most fanatical of believers; they would never allow any flaw to exist in their faith.

As the Emperor's own son, Guilliman held the Emperor's Sword, making him the best representative of the Emperor—certainly more legitimate than any bishop or saint.

Unless the Emperor himself descended, no one could shake Guilliman's status.

"I feel sincere joy at your devout faith; however, some selfish and greedy individuals have fooled and deceived you for the sake of power and wealth. They have molded my merciful, loving father into an existence no different from those disgusting Chaos Gods."

"I must correct this error, judge those infuriating heretics, and bring my father's glory back to you. From this day forward, anyone who defies me is a heretic, and anyone who misinterprets my words is a lackey of those Chaos Gods. I will show no mercy."

After saying this, Guilliman turned his head to look at the bishops kneeling on the ground. "You have committed unforgivable crimes, becoming the minions of those evil existences, twisting my father's glory, and bringing endless suffering to those who follow and love him. I should send you to the pyre and execute you."

"But my father taught me to be merciful, to love every human who has not fallen into the abyss. Therefore, I will give you a chance. You may choose to atone, or you may choose to end your sinful lives."

"I am willing to atone, my Lord."

"I am also willing."

The bishops watched as the Space Marines hauled out one massive pyre after another; how could they possibly dare to engage Guilliman in a theological debate now?

Debating with others could showcase one's understanding of the Emperor's glory and elevate one's reputation.

Debating with a Primarch, however, only had one outcome: ending up on a pyre, cast aside as a heretic.

"Very well. You have made the correct choice, proving your piety. All of you, stand up."

Guilliman's words left the bishops with expressions of relief, as if they had just survived a brush with death.

Having dealt with the bishops, Guilliman turned to face the kneeling believers once more. "I shall re-examine Espandor and inspect your faith for any traces of heretical thought. If any exist and you refuse to repent, I will visit upon you the most brutal destruction. I will never allow anything that tarnishes my father's glory to exist. Now, all of you, rise and prepare to be scrutinized, citizens of the Imperium, faithful believers."

Having said this, Guilliman declared the speech over, turned, and strode into the magnificent cathedral.

The cathedral was incredibly grand and vast; its height alone reached hundreds of kilometers, and its surface area was unfathomable, comparable to a small city.

Inside, numerous sky-bridges had been constructed, along which believers walked while chanting praises to the Emperor.

The thousand-meter-tall ossuary walls were filled with the remains of believers who had been canonized as saints.

Individual skulls were placed in dim niches, and the flickering candles only added to the eerie atmosphere.

Guilliman took a look around and strode deep into the cathedral, not stopping until he reached a statue of the Emperor clad in golden armor.

Several bishops followed Guilliman into the cathedral, feeling deeply unsettled.

Seeing him stop before the Emperor's statue, an unprecedented fear welled up in their hearts.

Could it be that they were truly wrong? Had they been fooled by heretics all this time?

"Now, let us discuss what has been twisted by traitors and heretics, and what truly reflects the divine essence of my father." Guilliman glanced at the Emperor's statue before turning his gaze toward the bishops.