++ SANCTIONED ++
MONODOMINANT
Your purity is absolute — and absolutely terrifying. You'd torch a city block to be sure of one heretic, and call it thoroughness. The Emperor approves. Everyone who has ever met you has quietly memorized the exits.
++ ORDO HERETICUS — CLASSIFICATION REGISTRY ++
THE FIVE VERDICTS
Five ways a soul can be filed. Five colors of ink on the tribunal's ledger, from sanctioned green to excommunicate red. Every citizen ends up on exactly one of these slabs. Read them. Then find out which one already has your name on it.
++ COMPLIANT CITIZEN ++
AMALATHIAN
Loyal, measured, perfectly forgettable. You will never be purged — and never be remembered. The Imperium has ten billion of you, and misplaces each one at exactly the same speed. Your form is in triplicate. It is the most interesting thing about you.
++ UNDER OBSERVATION ++
RECONGREGATOR
You love the Imperium. You just want to fix it. A little. A lot. That's the precise sentence the last reformer spoke before the Inquisition redecorated his hab with a flamer. Your file is open. Your idealism is showing.
++ RADICAL — RED FILE ++
XANTHITE
You believe you can control the Chaos. 'Just a little of the warp, for the right reasons.' Every heretic in history thought that exact thought, in that exact order. It ends in tentacles. It always ends in tentacles. Your cell is already booked.
++ EXCOMMUNICATE TRAITORIS ++
RENEGADE
The Emperor is a corpse on a chair and you've known it for a while now. The Ruinous Powers have your name — they had it before you finished the quiz. Don't look behind you. It's already much too late. (Thanks for playing. The kill-teams are inbound.)
Unofficial fan work. Warhammer 40,000 and all associated marks belong to Games Workshop. No heretics were harmed. Yet.