Battle of Vrel

Soon after, the group was moved to the Imperial training halls... his personal training grounds, unused since his reincarnation. 

Surveying the grand, almost holy design of the room, Bastion wondered why he'd neglected it for so long. 

With Elara coordinating the servitors, chairs and tables were brought in, and every Sororitas the Canoness had brought was seated. 

"My Lord, will this method truly create elite warriors for your protection?" Lucilla asked, confused. 

When he'd mentioned a test, she'd assumed it would be a combat trial to gauge their physical prowess. A written exam, however, was unprecedented... something she'd never encountered in her life. 

"Miss Lucilla, a true warrior must first be a scholar. Only through knowledge can they fight with wisdom, restraint, and grace," Bastion said, sitting to draft questions. 

Hearing this, the Canoness hesitated before joining the others. 

Sensing her reaction, Bastion smiled but remained silent. The Adeptus Sororitas, from what he'd read, were described as the Emperor's devout military arm... faithful soldiers. 

That sounded commendable, but in reality, it was problematic. Reports to the governor's office were never sugarcoated. They used flowery language, but the truth... or a well-crafted lie, often more truthful than not... always seeped through. 

Which meant these warriors fought without tactics, care, or restraint, embracing reckless martyrdom for the Emperor. Their fervent eyes said it all. Worse, they'd just defected. 

The Cardinal and Inquisitor Dresk still hadn't revisited him since their meeting, likely still debating his sainthood. The Cardinal had seemed eager to accept it; his expression practically prayed for confirmation. 

Dresk, however, had been oppositional—else she'd never have dared speak to a Saint that way. 

Yet despite their indecision, the Canoness had installed her squad as his guard, outright replacing his existing one. If that wasn't blind fanaticism, he didn't know what was. 

The test he'd designed had three phases, with the written portion as the cornerstone. His questions drew from real history... events buried under religious dogma. 

Take the Battle of Vrel, a hive conflict that doomed an entire city. Imperial records blamed the hive lord for "losing the Emperor's favor." But reconstructing the facts revealed a simpler truth: he was just a terrible leader. 

He'd ignored reports, parroting, "The Emperor will provide." Weapons rusted, soldiers starved, and defections to Chaos followed. Hoarding food while his people starved wasn't piety... it was stupidity. 

"Wait…" Bastion paused, lifting his head from the paper. "That mob was way too organized." 

Even in the trillions, Imperial doctrine taught that suffering was a path to the Emperor's grace. Uprisings born of desperation should've been chaotic—raids on storehouses, with leadership as collateral. Yet this mob had systematically severed supply lines and reinforcement routes. 

A frown flickered across his face before he shook it off. But the fear took root. 

The Imperium and xenos weren't his only threats. His own people could betray him—driven by hunger or manipulation. 

(A/N: Bro hasn't seen anything yet.)