[{"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-456":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},1681126,2147,"Chapter 456 - 457: Savior – This Damn Rotten Holy Terra Needs a Renovation!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-456",456,"\u003Cp>According to the latest intelligence—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The D15764 sub-route of the Webway encountered an unknown assault, leading to the collapse of local nodes and port structures.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even a significant number of Orks were killed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All evidence pointed to the use of some ancient, forbidden weapon—its destructive power was terrifying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The laws of physics in the affected region had been distorted. The stationed Redemption-class Titan had been torn apart, reduced to a heap of twisted scrap metal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"An enemy capable of operating within the Webway… and wielding ancient weapons…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden's expression turned grim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For over half a century, the Webway had remained secure and unthreatened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had grown complacent, believing this stretch of the Webway to be beyond danger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this attack served as a harsh reminder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Webway did not belong to the Savior alone—numerous other forces still lingered within, and the threat of sudden catastrophe was ever-present.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They could lose control of the Webway at any moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden's territory had risen to prominence because of the Webway. Too many production chains and expansion efforts were dependent on these high-speed routes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn't just a convenience—it was the cornerstone of the Savior's future.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the Savior's domain lost access to the Webway, its potential for development would collapse. It would be reduced to a powerful regional force—perhaps a bit stronger than Ultramar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But that outcome was unacceptable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I hope this is an isolated incident… and not the start of a coordinated assault by some ancient power.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Taking a deep breath, Eden issued his commands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Intelligence Department was to locate the attacker at all costs, and the Webway defense forces were to remain on maximum alert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Webway construction had to proceed without disruption.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the key to the next phase of development—not only for Eden's realm but also for the future recovery of the Imperium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My Lord, it's time to change.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Head Maid Linda stepped into the room, offering a gentle reminder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had served the Savior for nearly a century. While many other maids had come and gone, she remained ever-present.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thanks to blessings and advanced biotech maintenance, she retained her youth and vitality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden had never once considered replacing her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, it was rare to have someone truly loyal—someone who understood him, someone who cared deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He nodded and switched off his data-slate, rising from his seat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A group of maids entered with immaculate precision, bearing a regal, dark-gold robe and a selection of ornate accessories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Linda stepped forward, assisting him in changing, adjusting every detail with practiced care.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She wanted her lord to face the Imperium's citizens with nothing short of perfection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nothing needed to be said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After decades of silent understanding, Linda could handle every aspect of his daily life—down to the finest nuance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once dressed in his magnificent dark-gold attire, Eden departed with his Thunder Guardians and boarded a shuttle for the surface of Holy Terra.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The war was over—at least for now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now began the long and drawn-out era of ceremonies, social gatherings, and diplomacy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Countless Imperial nobles, rulers, elite warriors, and clergy awaited an audience with the Primarch of Hope.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They all longed for one thing: the coveted Webway Access Permit issued by the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>City of Petitioners. (OC)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Located in the outskirts near the Imperial Palace, this vast complex was a bureaucratic fortress. It contained countless offices and housing for the Adeptus Administratum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Towering spires stretched endlessly skyward, yet the internal space was claustrophobic. Tens—if not hundreds—of billions of administrative personnel worked and lived here, generation after generation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For many, their families had served Holy Terra for nearly ten thousand years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so, the most they could hope for was a tiny living cubicle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That alone was considered a monumental blessing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Land on Holy Terra was so valuable that one square meter could cost more than a whole planetary governor's palace on other hive worlds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, the Administratum's workers had long since adapted to their cramped dwellings and the relentless, soul-crushing workload.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dying at one's desk was common.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one mourned. No one paused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When a colleague disappeared, the only response was a quiet nod—perhaps even celebration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The departed had returned to the Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps one day, they too would be honored with the same fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These bottom-rung bureaucrats received just enough food and water to stay alive. Personal belongings were rare. Leisure time was nonexistent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While their lives were certainly better than Terra's serfs, compared to nobles or planetary governors, they lived in misery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet—these were the people who held immense power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every day, endless waves of data and requests flooded into the City of Petitioners from across the Imperium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each document they processed could determine the fate of billions—or the rise and fall of entire worlds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They decided whether documents were passed forward… or lost forever in the void.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Imperium's vastness created an infinite stream of issues. Rebellions. Wars. Chaos incursions. Xenos invasions. They never stopped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The High Lords could only focus on the most critical cases.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The rest fell to billions of scribes below them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And even then—it was never enough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some worlds rose and fell without anyone on Terra even realizing it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if they had submitted reports and paid the tithe for centuries.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It didn't matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bureaucratic machine churned forward, blind and indifferent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sometimes, a clerical error would assign triple taxes to a compliant world, triggering rebellions and Chaos incursions—resulting in sector-wide catastrophe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually, such disasters would reach the attention of Terra's elite—prompting an Exterminatus.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whole populations vanished in silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But no one blamed the clerks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had given everything—faith, effort, even their lives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And thankfully, most of these mistakes were rare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Imperium could afford to lose a few worlds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The administrative engine remained one of the Imperium's few enduring strengths.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ka-chunk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"In the Emperor's name! I finally got one right!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen sighed in relief as she finalized the latest document batch, blinking her aching bionic eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her cubicle was two square meters—generously spacious by Administratum standards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Theoretically, at least.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In practice, the space was dominated by a clunky metal desk and outdated cogitator systems. Even turning around was nearly impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All she could do was stretch her neck a little.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking up, all she saw was the cold, blinding office light—uncomfortably close to her face. Her cybernetic eyes flickered from the exposure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Decades of nonstop illumination had long since blinded most scribes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thankfully, the Administratum offered a mercy: free replacement of natural eyes with bionics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That eliminated the need for rest, increasing productivity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Praise the Emperor.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen prayed silently, grateful for everything she had.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Grateful to serve the Master of Mankind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She and others like her were the lucky ones—entrusted with maintaining the Imperium's machinery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The department housing tens of thousands of workers remained dead silent, save for the whisper of paper and the mechanical clack of stamps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bzzz…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A faint hum echoed nearby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen immediately straightened, her fingers resuming their rhythm over the files.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the servo-skull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of her cubicle walls was open to allow unobstructed surveillance from the ancient unit—a machine crafted from the honored remains of a fallen supervisor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It had patrolled the office for centuries.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It maintained order. It relayed commands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thankfully, it didn't reprimand her for mistakes or issue alerts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It floated past her—heading for another cubicle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen let out a slow breath of relief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hours passed. She completed another pile of forms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She lifted the heavy bronze grill and pressed the tiny transmitter button.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moments later, the document chute whirred to life, and a new batch of forms arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Four hours left. I can finish these in time.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her years of experience made her timing precise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a brutal year of mandatory overtime, her department had over-delivered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This month, there were no additional hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today, she had worked fourteen hours. Four more, and she could return to her dwelling unit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A rare joy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen hadn't left the building in years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By day, she lived in her cubicle. At night, she slept in a larger one-room cell—just a bed and one possession: a wooden statue of the Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her shrine for prayer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trips to the lavatory and dining room were strictly timed. Once a month, she was allowed to visit a chapel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And on occasion, she was summoned to the supervisor's office—a place that inspired fear in all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luckily, she was often praised.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since inheriting her father's position at age fourteen, she had never seen the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her understanding of the outside world came only through the documents she processed—endlessly, every day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had sworn to surpass her father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Over the years, she had made almost no mistakes—and was frequently rewarded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, from a nearby cubicle, a gentle hymn echoed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old servo-skull played a soft tune—one of the Emperor's sacred melodies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone paused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They bowed their heads in silent prayer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone had passed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A coworker had returned to the Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As was right—they offered their blessings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen closed her eyes, praying quietly as well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She watched as two servo-attendants entered the neighboring cubicle and soon emerged, dragging out a corpse wrapped in parchment inscribed with sacred scripture. The Aquila—the Imperial eagle—was emblazoned on his chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the moment of greatest honor for him—receiving the silent reverence of every observer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the supervisor emerged to witness it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many people remembered his name and recalled fragments of the life he once shared with them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So did Naresen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She suddenly recalled that her colleague—named Weil—had once proudly told her he had a newborn son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boy was born on the Day of the Emperor's Ascension and had received a priest's blessing. Weil believed his son would grow up to be a loyal, intelligent servant of the Imperium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That had been over twenty years ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not far from here, another cubicle would soon be inherited by a healthy young man, stepping into the life his father left behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…Maybe not.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen's exhausted mind flickered with a realization—their office hadn't received any new recruits in years. Nor had any new directives arrived from higher up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was why their work hours had kept rising.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sure enough, the moment Weil's body was dragged away, the supervisor issued a new command.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To maintain progress—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The twenty surviving workers in this section would each have to add thirty extra minutes to their workday to account for the loss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Our work is of utmost importance! For the Emperor! For Holy Terra!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The supervisor shouted hoarsely, voice trembling with fanatic devotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked so frail, he might be the next one carried away—but still burned with zeal, driven by the sacred burden he bore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For the Emperor! For Holy Terra!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others echoed his cry with pride.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor needed them. The Imperium needed them. Even the faraway war zones depended on them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This place—located several kilometers beneath the surface—was a war materiel audit office, part of the wider logistics command.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their data was critical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clack!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The transmission hatch in Naresen's cubicle lifted again, delivering another stack of forms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She realized she might no longer finish her work within the scheduled hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Quickly, she resumed her tasks, not wanting to risk a single mistake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lives depended on her accuracy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She trembled when she saw the cold, printed word: Tyranid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The horrific xenos were advancing deep into the Imperium, devouring entire worlds—possibly even threatening the Sol System itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her department's data would be critical for higher-level decision making.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To ensure precision—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Several emergency teams like hers had been formed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since more than twenty years ago, Naresen had worked on auditing these data, parsing oceans of numbers to deliver meaningful results.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were then passed upward to other departments for more complex calculations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually, the finalized assessments helped the Astra Militarum coordinate logistics for the front lines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen labored intensely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She spotted and corrected a recent error, sealed the corrected form, and submitted it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The servo-attendants would gather the documents and deliver them to the upper levels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as she closed the hatch, her foggy brain suddenly jolted in panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Emperor preserve me… I made a mistake. The same error was in a previous batch!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She realized with a chill that an earlier set of documents—possibly containing the same miscalculation—had already been sent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She couldn't remember if she had corrected it then.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her face turned pale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Should she report it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe it wasn't actually a mistake. Maybe the upper-level reviewers would catch it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still—her fingers trembling—she pressed the comm bead and reported the error.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I understand. The matter will be processed accordingly.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The supervisor responded coldly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then after a pause, he added: \"Naresen, you're one of the best workers in this office. You shouldn't have made such a mistake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You must accept discipline and reflect seriously!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He dispatched retrieval teams to reclaim the affected documents for reevaluation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen took a deep breath and calmed herself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had remained loyal to the Emperor—she had not concealed her failure. Even though this would bring punishment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She steadied her emotions and returned to work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She couldn't afford to let one mistake cause more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she picked up another form.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A familiar name caught her eye: Primarch of Hope. Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was a hero of the Imperium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her heart swelled with reverence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the documents she had processed and from the whispered conversations between coworkers, she had pieced together parts of his legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was a hero—one of the Emperor's sons—who had earned unparalleled glory in the Luna Campaign and the Charadon Wars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had saved countless lives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And when the Tyranids threatened, he led a fleet to Baal, homeworld of the Blood Angels, to confront the horrors and protect humanity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen felt honored.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She too, in her own small way, was contributing to the war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her department had been assigned, decades ago, to handle logistics calculations for the Baal Campaign.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their data fed the military supply chains, helping equip the Imperial forces defending Baal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since accepting this sacred duty, she and her coworkers had never once left the building.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For all these years—they had toiled endlessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even now, they continued sacrificing everything for that war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen admired the Savior—his courage, endurance, and resolve. She even knew what he looked like.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sometimes, she even saw him in her dreams.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In those dreams, she stood before him, confessed her humble contributions—and received his blessing. A personal Aquila medallion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She glanced sideways, ensuring the servo-skull was out of sight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she quietly opened a hidden compartment beneath the document chute.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside was a small image of the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wore golden armor and radiated power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And his face…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was mesmerizing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She stared for a moment—then quickly sealed it away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had found that image years ago, slipped from an incoming document.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had never reported it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was her one act of disobedience.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That portrait of the Savior had become her most precious possession.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She returned to her tasks, but soon anxiety returned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The retrieval team hadn't brought back the mistaken files.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Could they have been delivered to upper levels already…?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her worry grew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What if the error was caught and the entire office punished?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What if the mistake compromised the war effort at Baal?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What if it harmed the Savior himself?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eeee!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A sharp alarm blared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was an emergency signal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen turned ghostly pale, terrified the alarm was because of her mistake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Praise the Emperor—we are blessed by the Primarch…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The supervisor announced with mad fervor:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For the next three days, we will work extended hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the fourth day, we will receive eight hours of non-work time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We will ascend to the surface to attend a grand victory parade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There—our great Lord Regent and the Savior himself will appear in person!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The announcement was met with cheers and worship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eight precious hours on the surface, to witness the ceremony—before returning to their posts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one questioned it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naresen did.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Savior is on Holy Terra? But… what about the war on Baal?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But there was no one to ask.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such questions had no place in the workflow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe… I'll find out at the celebration?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She hoped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What none of them realized—was that the Baal Campaign had ended years ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were like many other forgotten departments, caught in the bureaucratic undertow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still processing documents for wars long concluded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though their work had become meaningless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had it not been for the upcoming victory ceremony and the planetary broadcast accompanying it, they would have continued in this loop—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until the logistics chain was cut…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And they died alone and unknown in the dark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A resplendent, dark-gold shuttle skimmed across the skyline above the City of Petitioners.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden looked out over the dense sprawl of slum-like buildings and frowned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was hard to believe—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That this was one of the Imperium's nerve centers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That policies deciding the fate of star systems were drafted here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truly, the Imperium was a junkyard chariot—held together by faith and duct tape.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden glanced at the smoggy sky—there wasn't a single cloud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Natural water and the last remnants of Terra's clouds had been consumed during the Horus Heresy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Rotten damn Holy Terra…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His thoughts drifted back to the Webway—and his mood soured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This place really needs a full renovation.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He forced himself to think of something pleasant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like taking the chance during the renovations… to bleed this place dry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was said the sanctum archives here still stored ancient and dangerous knowledge—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Records of the Men of Iron… and perhaps even the secrets of the Ymgarl Stone…\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>",2934,"2026-06-06T13:29:01.689Z",1,"novelbin.me","788e483b336e0e564b57b993f387c9f0c49b1d3b6d84b273534b2598a3722ea9","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-457","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-455",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]