Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 1072, page 9 of 1071: 'The True Truth'

The church's heavy oak doors creaked open. A dignified—or, depending on one's perspective, fat and large-eared—high bishop of the Church of England emerged from the shadows.

He wore an ivory-white robe inlaid with pure gold thread and held a scepter with curled ram's horns at the top, made of pure gold.

He appeared hastily, slightly out of breath, and was struggling to straighten the heavy, jewel-encrusted crown on his head. The agitation on his face showed that he had clearly been forced out by the commotion outside.

His appearance temporarily calmed the surging tide of faith crashing against the church.

Even the most furious pilgrims dared not rashly offend the shepherds of the God-Emperor.

The high bishop regained his composure and impatiently tapped the ground with the base of his scepter.

He ignored the angry crowd below the steps, his gaze passing over them and locking onto the center of the riot—the young oath-taking agitator.

"The Cardinal Archbishop demands that all clergy in Polaberia take an oath," Jan Hus spoke first, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion, as if he were merely announcing the Cardinal Archbishop's instructions.

"It's ridiculous."

The high bishop said sarcastically, his voice coming from his well-maintained throat with a hint of condescending disdain.

“Previously, we were driven out of Sintila by the mob simply because we served the nobles.”

Now that the nobles and priests who fled to Sintira have arrived in Polyberia, who will be responsible for our losses? To swear an oath so readily—isn't the blood of the fallen shed in vain?

"This is the Cardinal's instruction."

Jan Huss did not back down and took a step forward. “You all know that taking the oath has nothing to do with you. It is simply a matter of putting down a stone in your heart, a prejudice. The Cardinal Archbishop hopes that you will reconcile with the nobles and the people.”

"I think this is a compliance test!"

The high bishop's voice suddenly rose, and he sneered, "During the Great Revolution, those lowly people took everything from us without any explanation. Now they expect us to reconcile? What kind of shepherd kneels before the sheep? Go back and tell the cardinal that unless he proposes more substantial compensation measures, we refuse to take the oath!"

“I will not leave empty-handed,” Jan Hus said firmly, his hand resting on the holy emblem on his chest.

"Then come up here and have a theological debate."

A sneer of contempt flashed in the high bishop's eyes as he pointed his scepter at Jan Huss. "I'd like to see just how much you're really worth, you bishop elected by a mob."

The high bishop stopped looking at him, gave a heavy snort, and turned to walk into the deeper shadows of the church without looking back.

The Sintira nobles chuckled smugly, adjusting their lace bow ties and silk vests as they escorted the high bishop as if he were a triumphant hero, entering the church to enjoy a good show.

Bishop Jan Hus turned to face the angry and anxious crowd.

He raised the golden chalice in his hand, which still shone brightly in the ochre-yellow light, signaling the crowd to remain calm.

“Wait patiently outside,” he said. “Wait for the truth of the God-Emperor to triumph over sophistry.”

Then, he resolutely turned around and, alone, stepped into the depths of the church, which seemed to devour the light like the maw of a giant beast.
-
"Looks like this is going to be interesting." In the shadows of a building in the distance, Valina muttered to herself, "I never imagined that the State Church could be just as full of infighting as the bureaucrats in the Ministry of the Interior."

“The State Religion and the Mechanicus are the same,” Yadvig’s voice remained as steady as ever. “They are divided into countless orders and factions, each of which spares no expense in expanding its own power. The hostility between different sects is no less than the hostility towards the enemies of the God-Emperor.”

Moreover, unlike the fixed and clearly defined responsibilities of the Imperial Navy's various sector fleets, their expansion in the realm of faith is unrestricted and practically significant—the more followers they have, the stronger they become, to the point that even the Imperial administration sometimes cannot stop their authority.

“Then the tragedy of the Apostate era occurred,” Yadwiga added. “Throughout the Calicus sector, the lingering poison of the Apostates continues to plague our society.”

As soon as Yadwiga finished speaking—

“Crash——!!!”

A deafening roar came from the second floor of the cathedral.

A horrified scream erupted from the crowd in the square below.

The huge floor-to-ceiling stained glass window on the second floor of the church, which depicted the martyrdom of saints, shattered suddenly upon impact with the human body.

Countless colorful shards of glass, mixed with lead strips, rained down on the square below like a deadly hailstorm. Behind the shattered window frames, people watched in horror as Bishop Jan Hus fought with the high bishop from before.

"You heretic! You are a traitor and a disloyal follower!"

Bishop Jan Hus roared, his voice twisted with rage and betrayal.

He grabbed the high bishop by the collar and pushed him halfway out the window. The wind rushed into the church, making his tattered robes flutter loudly.

"Wait...wait! What are you saying? No! I'm not!"

The high bishop looked so disheveled that it was almost unbelievable that the dignified high bishop from before was the same person as the disheveled fellow before him.

His heavy crown was nowhere to be found, and his golden shepherd's staff fell to the church floor with a clatter.

He tried to fight back, desperately pounding Jan Hus's face with his fist, which was adorned with an expensive ring and was the size of a sandbag.

boom! boom! boom!
The dull thuds of impact continued.

“Look at what you just said in the theological debate!” Jan Hus ignored the excruciating pain on his face, blood gushing from his nostrils, but he gripped his fist tighter and noticed the gazes of the believers below. So he raised his voice further, “‘The day the God-Emperor rises from the golden throne will be the day the universe is destroyed, and destruction will bring eternal salvation to mankind…’ You let it slip, you despicable heretic!”

"No! You don't understand the true nature of the world at all!" Grasped by the fear of death and the fervor of missionary work, the high bishop's expression became ferocious and manic. "This shattered universe can only be truly saved by being utterly annihilated by darkness! You simply don't understand!"

He pounded on the wound while letting out hysterical laughter:

"Humanity will suffer as long as it lives in this fragmented universe! Only death is true salvation! And the God-Emperor, the great Dark Lord! He will rise from his golden throne, become a new god, and bestow true salvation upon all humanity!!!"

“You should feel lucky,” Bishop Jan Hus said, enduring the pain as if his skull were about to crack, his massive fist the size of a sandbag, while warm blood sprayed onto the high bishop.

His voice was cold and calm, as if he were reading a verdict:
“I will not burn you like my brother did, but will give you a quick death. Now, take your heresy to hell, you heretic.”

Bishop Jan Huss loosened his grip.

"No! You have no idea about the real world! You poor wretch who's been kept in the dark! Ah!!!"

The high bishop's scream was elongated and distorted in mid-air.

The snow-white figure in the ivory robe fell from the high window like a leather bag filled with blood, in full view of thousands of pilgrims and farmers in the square.

Boom——! !

A dull thud, a sound mixed with the cracking of bones and the splattering of flesh, rang out, sounding particularly clear in the deathly silent square.

The crowd was initially speechless with shock, but soon, when they saw the bloody mess, they erupted into thunderous cheers.

"Seize him! He murdered the high bishop!"

Inside the church, the Sintira nobles let out piercing screams.

They frantically drew their ornate but impractical swords from their waists and pointed them at Jan Hus, who stood before the broken window, his face swollen and covered in blood.

"He is the real heretic! Quickly! Report this to the colonial governor!"

The private guards snapped out of their daze and immediately rushed forward, slamming the end of their halberds into Jan Hus's back, knocking him to the ground. They then roughly tied his hands behind his back and bound him with chains.

The crowd surged again beneath the church, angry shouts replacing the previous cheers, as they tried to break through the doors.

"Close the door! Close the door now!"

The guards slammed the heavy oak door shut in alarm, the heavy bolt clattering down from the inside.

Jan Huss's solitary figure disappeared from the broken second-floor window under the guards' control, vanishing from the sight of the crowd below and the deafening shouts.

(End of this chapter)