34 - Madness

Phikris frowned, concern evident in his voice. "The state religion has a great deal of autonomy. They may not be willing to obey orders from outsiders."

Guilliman smiled, his expression unwavering. "I will make them listen. I am the Emperor's son—his most direct representative. Even if the head of the state religion considers himself a saint, he cannot claim to be a more legitimate spokesperson for the faith than me."

"And if they perceive your actions as a threat to their power? What if they refuse to submit?"

"Then we remind them of the consequences of defiance." Guilliman's tone hardened as he turned to Phikris. "Speaking of which, instruct the ship's technical sergeant to weld some stakes. We may need them to demonstrate what happens to those who resist my authority."

Phikris hesitated, clearly uneasy. "My lord, is this truly necessary? This does not align with your usual methods. You have always advocated for order, rationality, and adherence to rules."

"I advocate reason for those capable of understanding it," Guilliman replied, his gaze steady. "For those who are rational, structure and order serve as a guide, preventing arrogance and complacency. Rules exist to direct them toward the greater good.

"But fanatics do not think this way. They do not comprehend reason—they follow blind faith, allowing themselves to become mere instruments of their beliefs."

He paced the room for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Tell me, Phikris, what do you believe the chances are of persuading them to abandon their faith? Be honest—no embellishments, just your objective assessment based on what you know of the state religion."

Phikris fell into deep contemplation. He had encountered the zealots of the state religion before—the self-flagellating ascetics, the brutal inquisitors who tortured sinners, the unwavering believers who carried out horrific acts in the name of their god. He had seen firsthand their unwavering devotion and the lengths they would go to uphold their beliefs.

After a long pause, he answered. "The success rate is zero. They will never abandon their faith. It is their entire existence. It would be easier to convince them to give up their lives than to forsake their beliefs."

Guilliman nodded, unsurprised. "Precisely. Persuasion is not an option. Outlawing the state religion outright would be equally futile. That leaves only one path—control. If I can bring them under my authority, I can reform the state religion from within, limit the power of its bishops, and redirect the faith of its followers toward a more productive purpose. Much like restructuring the Imperial administration and military, this, too, is a necessary step."

He folded his arms, his gaze distant as he continued. "For them to accept my reforms, I must take on an identity that reassures them. They need to believe I am one of them. Only then will they accept that my changes are not heresy, but divine will—orders given by the Emperor himself. Those who oppose me will not be seen as defenders of faith, but as enemies of the Empire, agents of Chaos."

Phikris shifted uncomfortably. "My lord, this is... complex."

"It must be," Guilliman responded. "You must continue to learn, Phikris. Battle alone will not be enough. To truly assist me, you must understand politics, strategy, and human nature. Our war is fought not only on the battlefield but in unseen arenas as well. We must win in all of them if we are to save humanity. Without victory in these struggles, salvation is just an illusion."

He turned to the window, gazing into the void. "Chaos will seek to corrupt us. Traitors will attempt to deceive us. Disloyalty festers both in the open and in the shadows. We must fight with strength where necessary and with intelligence where required. Only then can the Empire be saved."

Phikris bowed his head. "I understand, my lord."

"Good. Now leave me. I need solitude. Report back in ten minutes with updates on our other affairs."

Phikris gave a respectful nod and exited the chamber.

Left alone, Guilliman's thoughts turned to Espandor—to the challenge ahead. The fanatical devotion of the state religion was a formidable obstacle, but it could also be a tool. If harnessed correctly, it could help spread his reforms and combat the horrors of Chaos.

Of course, this was only a temporary measure.

The state religion could not persist indefinitely. It would be tolerated for now, but in time, as technology and progress flourished under his leadership, blind faith would naturally erode. History had shown this before. During the Middle Ages, the power of the church was absolute—until the Renaissance ushered in an age of reason and enlightenment.

However, in this universe, one could not simply deny the existence of gods. That was unrealistic.

The relationship between humanity and the divine must change. The gods should not be worshiped mindlessly. They must be understood, questioned, and, if necessary, opposed.

Unlike the Emperor, Guilliman lacked the will—or perhaps the recklessness—to eradicate all religion in a single stroke. Destroying temples, dismantling shrines, and outright banning faith would only incite rebellion.

No. A gradual approach was necessary.

Slowly, subtly, he would reshape their beliefs—like boiling a frog in warm water.

(This metaphor is often used as a metaphor for people's failure to react to gradual changes that lead to undesirable outcomes.)

Under his orders, the fleet adjusted course and made its way toward Espandor.

A week later, they emerged from the warp, arriving at the outskirts of the Espandor system.

The void was filled with evangelist communication satellites, endlessly transmitting coded hymns and prayers in praise of the Emperor. Some signals were directed outward into the void, while others were sent into the immaterial realm using sacred Mechanicus technology.

Before even entering realspace, the fleet was bombarded with countless transmissions. Once they fully emerged, the sheer volume of incoming signals became overwhelming.

The minds of those processing the communications writhed in agony, and the servitor systems began to falter under the excessive data load. Alarms blared as the secondary processing systems overloaded, drowning in the ocean of ceaseless religious broadcasts.

Most of it was useless noise—fanatic prayers and hymns endlessly repeating.

The fleet had no choice but to block the majority of the transmissions to prevent their systems from crashing.

As they drew closer, they beheld a surreal sight. Pilgrimage arks, each stretching tens of kilometers, drifted through space, carrying colossal effigies of the Emperor, each hundreds of kilometers tall. These vessels were filled with devoted worshippers, their decks overflowing with prostrate figures, weeping and flagellating themselves in a relentless display of piety.

Espandor had two habitable planets.

The first, Espandor Prime, was the most populated. Towering statues of the Emperor dotted the landscape, their massive forms reaching into the heavens. The very air was thick with the scent of incense, and in every street of its sprawling cities, believers carried sacred banners and burning censers.

But among them walked the true fanatics.

Some of the wealthiest zealots had gone so far as to engrave scripture into their very bones using Mechanicus technology. Others scourged themselves until their flesh was raw and bleeding, their devotion measured in the depth of their wounds.

In front of every grand cathedral, iron cages dangled from massive chains, housing the unfortunate souls deemed heretics. Their bodies bore the marks of prolonged torture—bruises, lacerations, and burns. Within each cage sat a flamethrower, igniting at intervals to bathe them in searing agony.

Some heretics had already met their fate, their throats slit by the faithful. Their lifeblood stained the ground, and fervent believers smeared the crimson remnants upon their faces as a declaration of their piety.

A world lost to madness.

A world consumed by blind faith.

Watching from the command deck, Guilliman exhaled slowly. "I hope this goes smoothly."

As his fleet entered Espandor's domain, the faithful took notice.

Within hours, the entire system erupted with celebrations. The arrival of a Primarch was seen as divine validation of their devotion.

A grand welcome ceremony was quickly arranged, and soon, the leaders of the faith sent a request:

They wished to board the Macragge's Honor and meet their holy lord in person.

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Additionally, the extra chapters on Patreon will take some time, and I will also post additional information and pictures there. However, since my exams are happening and my health is not well, I will need some time. The usual uploads on Webnovel will continue as normal.