RENEGADE

There is no doctrine left to describe you, only a stamp: EXCOMMUNICATE TRAITORIS. You looked at the Imperium (the tithes, the pyres, the ten thousand years of grinding dark) and concluded, out loud, that the Emperor is a corpse on a chair and the villain of this story was never the one with the tentacles. The tribunal notes that you may even be right. The tribunal notes that this has never once mattered.

Your method is honesty, which in the Imperium is the one unforgivable weapon. You whispered it first. You stopped kneeling. Somewhere between one alarm and the next, the fear simply wore out, and what was underneath it turned out to be a door. The Ruinous Powers did not need to tempt you; they only needed to wait.

You will not be filed. You will be hunted: politely at first, in the way of paperwork, then very impolitely indeed. The kill-teams are inbound; they had the address before you finished speaking. Don't look behind you. Whatever you've become, it's already much too late, and part of you, the honest part, is relieved.