[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor":3,"chapter-warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-349":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1681119,2147,"Chapter 349 350 – It's Over… That Was an Apocalypse-Level Battlefield!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-349",349,"\u003Cp>At the corner of the hallway, the door bore an embossed Type-I icon — a stylized skull set into a holy seal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the symbol of the Imperial Cult.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond the door stretched a corridor several meters long, its walls covered in bas-reliefs of saints in suffering and stories of salvation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each carving was lifelike, as if recounting a sacred and eternal legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One couldn't help but feel reverent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the end of the corridor was a large prayer chamber centered around the God-Emperor's shrine. The air was thick with incense, candles flickered, illuminating a gleaming ossuary tower and the Emperor's statue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a bit ornate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And felt somewhat out of place compared to the rusted, grimy environment outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The chapel was filled with people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Veteran Astra Militarum soldiers had come to pray and now gathered around the central brazier, recounting their years of service.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each trying to outdo the other with tales of glory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An old Ministorum priest leaned on his crozier and listened with a kind, gentle smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To speak one's loyalty and service to the great and merciful Emperor — this too was a sacred ritual.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All he needed to do was listen quietly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Maybe others don't believe it, but I've seen those abominations. They're real.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This came from a gruff-voiced Cadian veteran in green carapace armor with a white insignia on the shoulder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If you'd ever been to my homeworld — Cadian — well, not that there's any chance now...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stared into the flames, sorrow in his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The others around him fell silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They all knew the veteran's home had been obliterated by the traitors spilling from the Eye of Terror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Cadian soldier took a breath, then continued:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"If you had ever set foot there, you'd know what total militarization looks like. I was born on the front line against Chaos heretics — our lives were war from the start!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ever since I could remember, I followed my father and brothers, using makeshift lasguns to hunt down those corrupted by Chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At eighteen, I enlisted with the Guard. Over thirty Terran years, I've fought in over ten major campaigns across the galaxy, all under the Emperor's command.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My only regret is not being there for Cadia's final stand — not dying on my homeland.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We'll wipe out those damned heretics eventually.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the man grow somber, a stormtrooper from the Conserquet Guard, named Drenin, clapped his mechanical hand on the veteran's shoulder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others nodded in solemn respect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Alright, my turn.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hulking Catachan in a plain uniform and a red headband took a swig of foul-smelling liquor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spoke in a gravelly tone:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Catachan's a cursed hellhole. Jungle's filled with death, though the screaming wheat and biting fruit ain't bad eating.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He toyed with a massive combat knife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I lived there till I came of age, then joined the Jungle Fighters. First time I left the trees.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Turns out — even a war zone is safer than Catachan. At least I can sleep without a tree trying to eat me.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"In over ten years of service, I've fought greenskins, faced Chaos, and marched across countless battlefronts with my regiment...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gathered soldiers whistled in awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Several more veterans shared their own stories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin, however, was distracted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flexed his bionic arm — its machine spirit seemed agitated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He inwardly cursed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That damned scrap-dealing grease priest must've ripped me off — gave me a second-hand limb stripped from a corpse for five thousand Thrones!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, before leaving, he and his Conserquet brothers had swiped plenty of spare parts from that same tech-priest. So maybe it wasn't a total loss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Technically, he even made a bit of a profit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Conserquet Guard were dirt poor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An illegally formed regiment, they had a notoriously dark reputation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a time, the Departmento Munitorum only issued them supplies for company-level forces and then sent them to the worst battlefields — infested with every type of heretic and monstrosity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly, the hope was to get them wiped out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet, the Conserquet survived. Even by the end of M42, they still had twenty full regiments, nearly 200,000 strong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A living legend among the Guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though… a legend with a heavy note of sarcasm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were seen as cowards by some, surviving through cunning and grit — the Emperor's own dodging angels, experts in battlefield scrounging and looting to resupply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>New recruits' first lesson?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How to stay alive on a death world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How to find cover, how to drop prone, how to identify threats — and when to run.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their commander even once said:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"These survival lessons? That's the true treasure of the Conserquet.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The local Munitorum despised these rats — but couldn't do a thing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They followed orders. Fought on the bloodiest front lines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Your turn, brother!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin's shoulder sank under a heavy slap from the Catachan brute.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked up, finding everyone's eyes on him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Guess it was time to speak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flexed his bionic arm again and said evenly:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I'm a veteran of the 14th Conserquet Guard. Fifteen years in service. I've fought in over twenty campaigns, against almost every known enemy of the Imperium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before boarding this ship, we assisted the Emperor's Angels in purging a Chaos pirate band that had invaded an Imperial world. I was lucky enough to take down a Chaos Astartes using a melta gun...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The room buzzed with gasps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faces filled with shock and admiration. Voices erupted in awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To kill a Chaos Space Marine — as a mere mortal — was the stuff of legend among the Guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Praise the Emperor! Your soul shall surely return to the Golden Throne!\" said the old priest in heartfelt blessing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone agreed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin had lived a truly legendary soldier's life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Deserving of the highest respect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin, however, barely reacted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd never admit it...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That melta shot had missed — accidentally hitting the Chaos Marine's head just as he was about to fall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stealing the Emperor's Angel's kill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But really—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Conserquet, no one cared much for medals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What mattered was surviving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Within the regiment, status was earned by how long you lived. His two dozen battles barely scratched the surface of the internal rankings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin had only boarded this ship for this mysterious mission by chance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After their last campaign, his unit was sent to a nearby world to recover in a medicae facility — and hopefully secure some extra supplies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While they were lying in hospital beds, Departmento Munitorum officers barged in and forcibly conscripted them aboard this ship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not just them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the local planetary defense forces were conscripted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From his experience, Drenin suspected something serious was happening — a war so sudden and dire, they needed every warm body they could find.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They hadn't even bothered to screen them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All he hoped was to survive this mess, and get back to the regiment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as the group was praising Drenin...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hey, brother, you haven't spoken yet, have you?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Catachan brute pointed to a small figure in the corner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This soldier sat quietly in the shadows, wrapped in a thick coat, cradling a long, finely-crafted spear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A helmet and gas mask concealed their face entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had not spoken once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why don't you tell us about your service?\" the brute offered warmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yeah, come on, let's hear it!\" the veterans cheered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the soldier remained stiff and silent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Catachan moved closer and threw an arm around him, handing over his flask of rotgut.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The drink did the trick.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The figure finally spoke, their voice stiff and robotic:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I… I'm a new recruit. Not much experience. I trained in the irradiated dust of Krieg. Officially enlisted two years ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I've only fought in one campaign...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hey, that's okay! We all started as rookies!\" the Catachan tried to reassure him, clearly trying to help the awkward trooper feel at ease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trying to keep the mood up—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He asked again, \"I heard you Krieg boys are tough. Tell us about that battle — did you get a kill or two?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Krieg soldier paused, searching for words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I can't remember… the officer said it was an Apocalypse-level engagement...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At those words…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The atmosphere in the prayer hall froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone stared, eyes wide in disbelief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These battle-hardened veterans had all heard of apocalypse-level wars — in legends, in whispers passed from regiment to regiment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the most brutal, catastrophic tier of warfare the Imperium could face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And any warrior who emerged alive from such a hell was a living saint, revered whether they were a mere guardsman, a Space Marine, a Knight pilot, or even a Princeps of a Titan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If human life was the Emperor's currency, then an apocalypse-level war was the mint — grinding it into dust.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In those wars…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Guardsmen were issued a lasgun, a battery, and a single melta grenade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no need for tactics, no need for intel or orders, no need to identify the enemy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No need to aim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because both the sky and the ground were filled with enemies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If a guardsman emptied their battery — that was a commendation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they threw their melta grenade — they were a hero.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they lived for six hours — they were a legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In reality—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each regiment was deployed to radioactive, bio-contaminated trenches to fight tooth and nail against the enemy. Strategic missiles pounded the battlefield indiscriminately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each regiment's expected lifespan? Six hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But their standing orders were to hold the line for fifteen minutes. Relief would arrive afterward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In theory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In practice, the regiment would be dead long before replacements arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And those replacements?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They'd march across charred corpses nuked into ash — piled layer after layer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon enough, they'd become another layer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the trenches, guardsmen could witness the true scope of war:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In orbit—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Void battles raged non-stop, macro cannons and lance strikes lighting up the void. Every minute, another battleship blossomed into a dying star.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When ammo ran out, ships rammed each other, dying in fire and glory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the skies—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Imperial aircraft and enemy fliers dueled endlessly. Lasers, missiles, and flak stitched the heavens with flame, and planes fell like burning rain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the ground—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Super-heavy tanks thundered across every front. Beyond them, Warlord Titans and Emperor-class God-Machines loomed like moving mountains — dozens of Titan Legions unleashed at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet even these divine engines couldn't last.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One by one, they too fell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Closer still—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Imperial Knights fought in desperate melee. Whole Knight Houses had already perished. More Houses were still en route.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor's Angels — humanity's finest transhuman warriors — fell by the squad, by the company. Whole Chapters vanished into the abyss without a single vox-transmission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Sisters of Battle, too — cathedral after cathedral was hurled into the fire, leaving no ripple behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Living Saints fell from the skies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only to rise again, blazing anew, casting themselves back into the flame.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one knew what truly raged at the war's heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the battle dragged on—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Guard regiments turned to scrap and ruin by the tens of thousands. The thunder of endless cannonfire deafened every man still breathing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Scorpius missiles, once prized, now launched in salvos. Vortex warheads fired with no safety protocols, leveling entire swaths of land.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Guard's numbers were counted in the billions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every defensive wave cost millions of lives. Countless soldiers were reduced to nameless ash on the killing fields.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no more orbital bombardment to call for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the wreckage of warships and aircraft slamming into the surface struck harder and more often than orbital fire ever could.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Tech-priests of Mars began deploying every forbidden, heretical technology they possessed — poisons, radiation, black hole generators — no one cared anymore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one would survive long enough to be judged anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the field—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those who lived beyond three hours witnessed sights not meant for mortals:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Murderous Necrons, Chaos demigods, shrieking Daemon Engines, endless xenos monstrosities.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So many titanic war machines and falling starships slammed into the planet that its mass increased. Geography shifted. Mountains vanished. Oceans boiled away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the climate was warped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One hemisphere — once locked in winter, snowbound and frozen — turned blood-red under a new heatwave. The freshly-arrived troops in greatcoats were left cursing as they roasted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the mid-stage of the war—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither side remembered their objectives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They just kept shooting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kept dying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But if fate allowed…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some veterans would see even more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The core front would eventually reach them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And with it, came the true legends of the Imperium:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Grey Knight Grand Masters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chapter Masters of Astartes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Emperor's Champions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chosen of the Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even… the Primarchs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fighting their dark equals in mortal combat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old soldiers would suddenly find themselves mere meters from these sacred figures — able to see the divine runes etched into their armor, and the blood-slick, unyielding faces behind their helms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had never been so close to living myth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They would either go mad from the sight of Chaos abominations…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or die instantly in the shockwaves of these titanic duels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But even so—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had fulfilled their duty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lived a life of legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At least, they hadn't died without seeing the face of their enemy — unlike the unlucky masses who were wiped out the moment they arrived, their souls dragged screaming into the Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The war raged on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The chosen warriors still fought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More were thrown in by the minute.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one knew how it would end.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All they could do was pray for the Emperor's mercy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That… was an apocalypse-level war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A battle that would decide the fate of a sector, a sub-sector…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or the Imperium itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Any soldier who survived one…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was a walking legend of the Imperium — hailed by all with reverence and awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the prayer hall—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After several minutes of utter silence, the veterans erupted in thunderous cheers, clapping and chanting praise for the Krieg soldier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was, without doubt, the most legendary figure among them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One by one, they approached him, saluted with the Aquila, and embraced him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Krieg trooper stood there awkwardly, stiff as a statue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To him, war was just… war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Krieg-born.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had no concept of retreat, surrender, or fear of death. He was the Emperor's weapon. His life was the price to be paid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And sacrifice was the highest honor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To him, all he had done was obey the Emperor's will — to fight in a war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There would be more wars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would fight until he fell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was not glory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was destiny.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the entrance, the squad commander who had been silently listening now stepped forward. He offered the Krieg soldier a rare Terran cigarette and lit it for him with solemn respect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The other veterans followed suit, offering gifts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old priest approached and muttered sacred benedictions over him, then pressed into his hand a blessed plasma pistol — consecrated by the Ecclesiarchy itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the usually stingy Drenin came forward, handing the Krieg soldier a gem-encrusted pocket watch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It had once belonged to a planetary governor's concubine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd nearly gotten the whole regiment into a war with the local PDF over it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But suddenly—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin's face darkened. His expression turned grave — even pale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned to the Krieg soldier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Brother… why are you here?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Normally—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A veteran of an apocalypse-level war wouldn't be anywhere near the rest of them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such elites were reserved for missions of the highest danger. For battlefields of equal or greater magnitude.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he spoke—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The room fell quiet once more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Krieg soldier, oblivious to the tension, replied plainly — like he was responding to an order:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My commander said… we're to join a great being and fight in a war even more difficult.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no fear in his voice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only matter-of-fact obedience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An even harder war?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As his words sank in—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The veterans' faces turned chalk white.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hall went dead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The only sound was the crackling of incense logs in the brazier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Click.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The squad commander's hand trembled as he lit another Terran cigarette, inhaling deeply — forgetting to exhale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Cadian veteran sat back down, silently polishing his homemade lasgun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Catachan brute emptied his flask and began scrubbing his knife again and again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old priest clutched his staff and dropped to his knees before the shrine, whispering desperate prayers to the Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Krieg soldier, seeing no one talking anymore, finally relaxed — and returned to silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"...We're screwed. This is an apocalypse-level war.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin nearly collapsed to the ground, eyes dull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why the hell is this happening to me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no surviving this time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he could last even an hour or two — that would be divine mercy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Conserquet Guard's archives, there were records of three regiments that had once participated in apocalypse-level wars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not a single one came back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't believe for a second that he was stronger than those more experienced veterans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Drenin's suspicions had been right all along.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Imperium had officially classified the Battle of Baal as an apocalypse-level conflict — and one of the most extreme kind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, Baal was about to face the most powerful Tyranid Hive Fleet in the galaxy, with no room to maneuver.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they gave an inch—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hive Fleet Leviathan would surge forward and devour entire sectors of life, plunging the Imperium into a crisis from which it might never recover.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Humanity would slide into an even darker abyss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faced with such dire stakes—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Roboute Guilliman, the Lord Commander, and the Savior Eden — two Primarchs — were both forced to confront the Hive together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was no exaggeration—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was one of the most critical battles the Imperium had seen in millennia.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To make things worse—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Imperium could not afford to send any more reinforcements. Its coffers and reserves were dry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the Departmento Munitorum had no choice but to forcibly conscript billions of soldiers and send them into the void.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To expedite the recruitment process—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They even executed slow or inefficient recruiting officers, then issued absolute kill-on-failure orders to the rest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With pressure from above and impossible deadlines—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Recruiters went to every extreme to gather any force that could be sent to Baal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That's why dozens of regiments were now crammed together onto the same ship in total chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And these troop transports didn't just carry soldiers…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were packed with terrified Imperial citizens — many of whom had no idea why they were even here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some were seized from their homes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others were dragged away in their sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To the recruiters, it didn't matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they could fill the headcount — the job was done.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Munitorum turned a blind eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a battlefield like that, there was little difference between a trained guardsman and a random citizen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they could pull a trigger or throw a melta bomb—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they could kill just one or two Tyranids — that was profit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even just delaying the swarm for a moment so the bombers could arrive—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That alone was a worthy death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The atmosphere in the prayer hall grew even heavier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The company commander's stern voice rang out:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Let me remind everyone — no one is to speak a word of this. If you do, you'll face trial.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a sharp warning to the veterans:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Keep your mouths shut.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the truth leaked early, it would cause panic across the ranks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many of the Imperium's forces involved in apocalypse-level campaigns had no idea what they were being sent into.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even up to the moment they died.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only after the war—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the survivors were honored, standing before the banners of triumph—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Did they learn the magnitude of what they had done.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How trillions of lives had survived… because of their sacrifice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old soldiers nodded quietly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was as it should be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were on the ship now — there was no turning back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And besides—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After years of service, they had long come to terms with the idea of death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To die on a battlefield like this—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was a kind of glory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One by one—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The commander and the veterans took their leave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Drenin stomped his numb leg, forcing himself to his feet and staggered over to kneel beside the old priest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned to him, voice trembling:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…Could you… pray for me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Tell the Emperor a loyal follower begs for His mercy…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a stormtrooper, he felt the priest's prayers would carry more weight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His own heart was… far too black. The great and merciful Emperor might not listen to the likes of him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tension blanketed the entire transport ship like a shroud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The quartermasters marched down the decks distributing weapons — to soldiers, civilians, even penal slaves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the madmen who loitered near the chapel were issued lasguns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the flea-infested, overcrowded bottom-deck bunks — where dozens shared a single toilet—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The former Imperial citizens — now newly-forged conscripts — clutched their lasguns, eyes wide with growing dread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All they could do was pray…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the Emperor's protection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the bridge—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young officer sat in silence, deep in thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The unbearable tension of the coming battle weighed down on every mind aboard the ship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The vox-officer received a transmission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was from the Savior's fleet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the command of the Hope Primarch himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They issued a warning: reports of potential Tyranid activity nearby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They would be dispatching ships to provide cover.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>However—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long after the message ended…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A vast shadow swallowed the entire transport fleet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blotting out the stars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Check Out My Patreon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!][[email protected]\u002Fzaelum]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Thank You For Your Support!]\u003C\u002Fp>",3653,"2026-06-06T13:29:01.688Z",1,"novelbin.me","a3d9f37c05ffe0e3aba0c9f78032fde2cfd695ae29474fb730def09418910f94","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-350","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-348",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]