"M-my Lord, is there some misunderstanding??" An old bishop began to stammer, his long-term life of luxury having made him quite fat, and his flabby flesh trembled with fear.
"Misunderstanding? What kind of misunderstanding? Are you questioning me??" Guilliman scrutinized the old bishop.
"I once built this great Imperium with my father, and witnessed the nascent beginnings of the Imperial cult.
Do you think I have no right to criticize your actions?"
"N-no, not at all, M-my Lord, I had no such thought."
Hearing this, the old bishop was on the verge of tears.
Even his mechanical eye trembled; Guilliman's overwhelming pressure stripped away any trace of his usual reverence.
It wasn't merely the fear of death; it was more profoundly the denial of his deeply held faith by Guilliman.
"We have always served the Emperor devoutly, never once being disobedient," another bishop spoke.
His situation was no better, but he could at least speak fluently without stammering.
"That is why I did not execute you immediately, but chose to come here myself to investigate.
If I had found evidence that you were indeed heretics, it would not have been I who arrived, but the exterminatus order I signed."
The ruthlessness in Guilliman's words struck fear into the hearts of the bishops.
They would not forget that the Emperor's son held another title: the Demigod of War.
The Imperium was founded upon the ruins and remnants of numerous xenos empires and human factions unwilling to submit to the Imperium.
Every Primarch was an embodiment of war, utterly cold towards their enemies.
"My Lord, we hold absolute loyalty to the Imperium and the Emperor; we are absolutely not the rebels you speak of."
"Yes, My Lord."
"My Lord, you must believe us; we would never harbor any thought of disobeying the Emperor."
Guilliman revealed a smile full of hidden meaning.
"I also hope that you were merely misguided by others, and not true rebels.
I see your piety, and I sincerely hope that your piety is genuine."
"Our piety is genuine, My Lord."
"Indeed."
Guilliman pointed to the sinners locked in iron cages, screaming in pain.
"Then can you tell me, what are those??"
"Those are heretics; they refused the Emperor's enlightenment, refused to believe."
"We punish them to show them the consequences of not believing in the Emperor, of not respecting the Emperor."
"Pain will purify their souls and make them repent."
"Are you saying that my father needs to use fear to attract followers?? 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's voice was cold as he questioned the bishops before him, the smile on his noble face turning cruel and frigid.
"My Lord.
That is not what we meant."
The old bishop cried out, "We had no such thought."
"Oh but you did it.
You have twisted my father into a Chaos God, just like those Warp entities hated by humanity.
You have used fear as a means to propagate 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 subjects, and you too have harmed my father's subjects.
Those Chaos Gods use false lies to strip people of everything, leaving them only the endurance of suffering.
My father utterly detests this and swore to bring salvation to humanity, and now, you are using my father's name to commit such evil deeds."
Guilliman's voice contained terrible anger; everyone could clearly feel the fury in his heart.
The bishops' hearts were filled with extreme fear.
"M-my Lord."
The bishop wept, "We merely wished to uphold His glory."
"By maintaining it with fear and the sword?? Heretics, you have twisted my father, twisting His benevolence into fear, His goodness into cruelty, His kindness into bloodshed.
Kneel, or I shall declare you heretics and sentence you to the pyre."
Guilliman drew the Emperor's Sword from his hand, and with a whoosh, golden flames surged up, dazzling and brilliant.
The bishops dropped to their knees with thuds, all of them trembling.
Guilliman glanced at them, then walked towards the podium that had been prepared for him.
He held the Emperor's Sword high, his eyes filled with fury.
A servo-skull, its eye sockets flashing red, hovered beside him, broadcasting his every move in real-time.
Large projection screens appeared in every city and town on Espandor.
All the faithful watched Guilliman, exchanging glances, unsure why the Primarch would make the bishops kneel.
"I am the lord Primarch, Lord of Ultramar, Regent of the Imperium, the Holy Emperor's sole representative in the Imperium.
Kneel, ignorant faithful, or you shall be declared heretics."
Guilliman's voice spread throughout the world via the servo-skulls; even the desolate deserts echoed with his voice.
His voice contained immense power and pressure, and the faithful looked at each other in astonishment.
They did not know why the Primarch would issue such a command.
But out of faith in the Emperor, they still knelt down.
All the faithful prostrated themselves on the ground, afraid of being declared heretics.
Those who had come to Espandor were the most fanatical believers; they would never allow any blemish upon their faith.
As the Emperor's son, holding the The Emperor's Sword, Guilliman was the best representative of the Emperor, more legitimate than bishops or saints.
Aside from the Emperor Himself arriving, no one could challenge Guilliman's status.
"I am truly joyful for your devout faith, yet some selfish and greedy individuals, for the sake of power and wealth, have repeatedly misled and deceived you.
They have molded my benevolent, loving father into an entity akin to those repulsive Chaos Gods.
I must correct this error, judge those infuriating heretics, and restore my father's glory to you.
From this day forth, anyone who disobeys me is a heretic.
Anyone who distorts my words is a minion of those Chaos Gods.
I will show no mercy."
Having said this, Guilliman turned his head to look at the bishops kneeling on the ground.
"You have committed unforgivable crimes, becoming the pawns of that evil existence, twisting my father's glory, and bringing endless suffering to those who follow and love my father.
I should rightfully 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 can choose to atone, or choose to end your sinful lives."
"I am willing to atone, My Lord."
"I am also willing."
The bishops watched as the Space Marines carried out massive pyres; they dared not engage in a religious debate with Guilliman.
Debating with others could showcase their understanding of the Emperor's glory and enhance their reputation.
Debating with a Primarch, the only outcome was the pyre, to be reviled as heretics.
"Very well, you have made the correct choice and proven your piety.
All of you, stand up."
Guilliman's words brought a trace of relief to the bishops, like surviving a disaster.
Having dealt with the bishops, Guilliman turned back to face the kneeling faithful.
"I will re-examine Espandor, checking whether heretical thoughts exist within your faith.
If they do and you are unwilling to repent, then I shall bring the most brutal destruction.
I will not allow any existence that defiles my father's glory.
Now, all of you, rise, and prepare to be examined, citizens of the Imperium, devout faithful."
After saying this, Guilliman declared the speech concluded and turned to walk into the magnificent cathedral.
The cathedral was incredibly grand and vast; its height alone was hundreds of kilometers, and its ground area, while unknown, was also terrifyingly large, equivalent to a small city.
Many skybridges were built inside, and the faithful walked along them, singing praises to the Emperor.
The ossuary walls, a thousand meters high, were filled with the remains left by those called saints.
Skulls were placed in dim shrines, and flickering candles added a touch of eeriness.
Guilliman surveyed the scene, then walked into the depths of the cathedral, stopping only when he reached a statue of the Emperor covered in golden armor.
Several bishops also followed Guilliman into the cathedral, feeling apprehensive.
Seeing him stop before the Emperor's statue, an unprecedented fear emerged in their hearts.
Were they truly wrong?
Had they been misled by heretics all this time??
"Now, let us discuss what things have been twisted by those traitors and heretics, and what truly represents my father's divine essence."
Guilliman glanced at the Emperor's statue, then turned to look at the bishops.