[{"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-485":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},1681155,2147,"Chapter 485 - 486 – The Black Throne, the Emperor’s Clone?","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-485",485,"\u003Cp>\"The Black Throne…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a hidden chamber deep within the underhive tunnels, Eden received data from the Inquisition's Forbidden Archives concerning the Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That construct had originated from a secret pact between the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Drukhari.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the time, in desperation to repair the gradually collapsing Golden Throne, the Mechanicus had summoned the Haemonculi masters of Commorragh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The High Lords approved the plan, believing alien knowledge might restore that most sacred of artifacts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cost of this bargain was staggering: one Forge World, eight tithe-grade XI settlements, and tens of billions of souls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All of these were to be stripped of defense and delivered into Drukhari hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Imperium deemed the sacrifice worthwhile—for the Golden Throne was humanity's lifeline, and should it fail, the catastrophe would be beyond reckoning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Typical of the Imperium,\" Eden muttered, brows furrowed, while outside the muffled sound of search patrols echoed faintly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the pact was sealed, the Mechanicus and the Haemonculi Covens began their work, studying the Golden Throne and attempting repairs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the deal spiraled out of control.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the Drukhari, having touched the Throne, secretly retained fragments of its secrets—scheming to build their own version.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus was born the design of the so-called Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Drukhari intended to use the Black Throne to repel the Chaos incursions and dimensional instability that had plagued Commorragh since the Cicatrix Maledictum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But like the Golden Throne, it required a powerful psyker to operate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Drukhari had none.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So their answer was to fashion a \"new Emperor\" for themselves. The Haemonculi had siphoned dried fluids from corroded pipes, and flecks of bloodstains left upon the machinery of the Golden Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were fragments of the Emperor's very gene-matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With them, they sought to create a twisted clone of the Emperor to enthrone upon the Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually, the Inquisition and the Adeptus Custodes intervened, reclaiming the stolen gene-samples, razing every Drukhari facility involved, and executing the collaborators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The alliance with the Drukhari ended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yet it seems,\" Eden thought grimly, \"that the Drukhari never abandoned their Black Throne project. They may even still be cultivating Emperor-clones.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought weighed heavily. He did not doubt the Haemonculi's grotesque genius—they were unrivalled in fleshcraft and resurrection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What concerned him was what such a clone would be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More terrifying still: such a body, corrupted mockery of the Emperor, could become both the ultimate weapon of the Drukhari and a prize ripe for the Dark Gods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A vessel for corruption in the image of the Emperor himself—such a horror would splinter the Imperium's faith, and rally heretics, traitors, and apostates beneath it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden shuddered at the thought, yet felt relief that he had uncovered the secret. If left unchecked until success, the catastrophe would be immeasurable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The problem was—where was the Black Throne, and where were these clones kept? He had no clue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he knew this: such a construct would be guarded as jealously as the Golden Throne itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps only once he held Commorragh in his grasp could he scour its depths and claim it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The desire to seize the Dark City grew fiercer within him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With the Black Throne and Emperor-clone secured, perhaps he could even glean the knowledge to stabilize the failing Golden Throne of Terra.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For even that relic was nothing less than a death clock for the Imperium.For original chapters go to noᴠelfire.net\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the patrols outside finally dispersed, Eden, Ilyss, and their companions shifted safehouses once more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They needed to make contact with the cabals of the Redemption Satellite District, spreading their influence deeper within Commorragh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The rebellion of the noble Archons had already collapsed—he could inherit their remnants, absorbing shattered warbands into his cause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was certain: this city had more than enough who loathed the Supreme Overlord's blood-soaked tyranny.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They merely needed their fear broken.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And he would be the one to ignite the revolt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Spire Inverted – The Supreme Throne Hall\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fetid, chaotic light poured through high windows, painting everything in nauseating colors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the vaulted ceiling dangled a forest of iron chains. Upon them, flayed bodies hung—many still twitching in silent agony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No screams could escape their butchered throats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the fate of the defiant—to spend centuries dying, soul slowly bled away into the hunger of She Who Thirsts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ngghhh!!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Archon Marlac was among them, suspended, thrashing desperately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After defiling the Supreme Overlord's favored consort, he had not fled. Instead he confessed openly, offering all his wealth in hope of mercy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>None came.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bloodshot eyes stared hollowly at the grotesque court.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Below, the Archons of Commorragh stood in uneasy silence, hearts pounding as the chains clinked and groaned above them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Warriors in sable armor filed into the chamber—the elite of the Kabal of the Black Heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came courtiers, sycophants, and playthings, crowding the hall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knives scraped against saws, filling the air with shrieking \"music.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slaves arranged themselves, chanting hymns to herald their master's arrival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the dirge reached its peak, bodies fell screaming upon racks and spikes, their tormented souls offered as libation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At last the throne descended—an ugly construct of blades and jagged obsidian angles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And upon it sat the Supreme Overlord of Commorragh himself—Asdrubael Vect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From his seat he gazed across his cowering Archons. None dared to meet his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect's body, ancient beyond ten millennia, bore the facade of youth—smooth, pale skin unlined by age.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in his abyssal eyes burned cruelty and cunning, utterly at odds with his outward form.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Archons forced themselves to stand tall under his gaze, for to flinch was to die.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You are always so stiff,\" Vect hissed, his lips curling in mock amusement. \"Why not smile?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Terror rippled across the hall. None knew whether he spoke truth or jest, for the Overlord delighted in contradiction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some Archons dared force smiles. They were rewarded only with colder stares, and the knowledge their mistake was marked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, Vect was not yet in the mood for slaughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His voice, serpentine, filled the hall:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My wretched, beautiful Dark City… why is it that so many plot to tear it apart?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>None replied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect paced the dais, staff in hand, speaking as if to himself:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Do they seek to destroy the city itself… or to defy its master?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He halted before a figure hung inverted, drenched in blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the day's prize—a traitor: Archon Helarakh, one of the nobles who had dared rise against him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their insurrection had sparked Commorragh's great schism. They had even attempted to resurrect Vect's greatest ancient rival—Lord El'Uriaq—to lead them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But their ritual was tainted by Chaos, its failure sealing their doom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, dead or captured, the conspirators were finished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Helarakh, stripped of voice and flesh, was reduced to a warning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect idly plucked a strip of skin from the body and sneered:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"These punishments are far too slight for the chaos you sowed—especially for daring to fracture the unity of Commorragh.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unity, of course, meant absolute submission. Even those loyal often died at his whim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Helarakh's eyes blazed with agony and hatred, yet voiceless, he could do no more than glare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the other Archons, seeing him, dared not think of defiance—only of seizing each other's throats in their endless rivalries.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps that was precisely Vect's design: rule secured through perpetual division.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned his gaze across them all, then recounted his \"great deeds\":\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I am the one who cares most for Commorragh. In the Fall I gathered the survivors and brought them here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And now there are those who would undo it all—who seek to split us apart. That I shall never forgive.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seating himself upon the barbed throne once more, he declared:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I have called you here to end the Great Schism of Commorragh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every traitor shall meet Helarakh's fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And you—shall bear the burden.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that, the Supreme Overlord commanded: all kabals were to hunt down intruders from beyond the veil, root out daemonic possessions, and destroy every last traitor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This heralded another round of bloodshed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Archons of the kabals received the Supreme Overlord's decree and departed the throne hall in silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each sank into their own thoughts, all the while watching one another, especially their rivals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All of them weighed how best to feed competitors to the invaders and daemonic entities ravaging Commorragh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone was a potential traitor. And none would squander such a chance to settle old grudges or eliminate hated enemies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On their way to their ships, the Archons began to splinter into factions, selecting their targets and preparing their moves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, they also had to tend to the infestations within their own territories—dealing with invading daemons and hunting down suspected traitors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Once the Black Throne and that body are complete,\" Vect mused to himself upon his seat, \"there will be none left who can ever challenge my rule…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though few dared oppose him openly, the nobles' betrayal and the Great Schism had blemished his authority.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a dangerous sign.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Vect—once a slave—never ignored danger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gazed out through a vast viewing window, where the expanse of Commorragh stretched before him. Each sector was the size of a world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the endless dark, he could see jagged violet scars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Signs of Warp incursions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many zones had cracked, spilling daemons into the city. Orks and Tyranids too had crawled in, sowing chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, the outbreaks were contained, and the Dark City's core endured in order.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Vect harbored a secret known to none: these tears, many of them, had been deliberately provoked by him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For only an external threat could force unity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only fear could redirect his people's hatred and attention away from himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now that the noble rebels were destroyed, it was time to cleanse these \"external threats\" as well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Balance, struck by his hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the Archons culled the daemonic infestations, and after another cycle of internecine slaughter drained their strength—stability would return.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect leaned upon his chin once more, resuming his languid pose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His taloned fingers brushed the hovering parchment-sheets that chronicled plots upon plots.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One plan detailed a strike against the Saviour's Webway Domain—dark engines primed to summon tides of daemons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another listed schemes of raids and subterfuge against the Imperium and their Asuryani kin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then he paused—at a name new to him: the Redemption Satellite District.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some remote satellite, yet lately its whispers echoed throughout Commorragh. Perhaps worth his attention.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave the order:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Black Heart's spies were to gather everything on this so-called district.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect suspected it hid some treasure. And no place was beyond the Supreme Overlord's plunder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Especially the fringes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every border realm that defied him had already been annihilated—whether by apocalyptic relics or Warp rifts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the last reports were read, Vect summoned his concubines to amuse him. And there he heard a tale—concerning Lady Beda.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every offender had been punished, save one nameless rat, still hiding. A slippery creature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect smirked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That one would be found.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, in a tavern cellar elsewhere—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Lady Maris, we must act before the chaos dies down, to spread our influence while the moment lasts,\" Eden said, facing the Archoness of the Serpent Kabal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maris was a recent ally of the Redemption Satellite District—once one of Commorragh's hunted insurgent forces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before founding her own cabal, she had been one of Vect's consorts, famed for her keen intellect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But her wit had soon wearied the Overlord, and he had cast her out of his court.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For over a millennium she had survived his assassins, forging secret ties with the Harlequins of the Laughing God.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the shadowed Webway she had built hideouts and poison-forges.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the Great Schism tore Commorragh, she had returned, seeking alliance with the nobles—but was spurned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who would trust the discarded lover of the Supreme Overlord?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through Guilliman's channels, Eden had reached Ivraini, and through her the Harlequins, and at last to Maris herself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had promised her vengeance upon Vect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now they stood united, preparing to plunge Commorragh into storm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though Eden did not wholly trust her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For all he knew, she could be part of some centuries-old trap—a lure baited by Vect himself, waiting for the perfect moment to betray every rebel in one stroke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maris's hands were still bloodied as she drank down a vial of high-grade soul elixir, savoring it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Scion of Asurmen,\" she purred, \"tell me—why is the soul-essence you harvest so intoxicating?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That's a secret. Perhaps someday. But not until Vect is dealt with,\" Eden replied evenly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Very well. From now on, all my agents in Commorragh are yours to command,\" she offered with a sultry glance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You really won't consider my assassination plan? Or a massed strike?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That's far too old-fashioned,\" Eden shook his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We need to break Vect's authority. When the time is right, others will strike the blow. He'll have nowhere to hide.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For now, what we need is a message.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Scion of Asurmen has come to Commorragh. He stands for three things: fairness, fairness, and—Emperor-damned fairness!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That's one thing,\" Maris teased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Close enough,\" Eden muttered, loading his dark-matter pistol.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"People must know—Commorragh and the Redemption District belong to all. Wealth enough for everyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not endless slaughter for scraps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vect alone is the obstacle. Once he falls, all may drink deep of abundance.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He fired a single shot—just as the secret chamber door burst open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first Incubus through was hit by the forbidden weapon, his body dissolving into black ichor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hunters were closing in. The clash with Vect had begun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden and Maris fled into the Webway, while agents fanned out across Commorragh spreading word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whispers of the Redemption District and the Scion of Asurmen filled the Dark City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He who possessed inexhaustible wealth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He who would bring salvation from She Who Thirsts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Smuggled soul-elixirs from the District flooded Commorragh's black markets. Once tasted, no Drukhari would return to meager, diluted soul-stuff.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, nobles, soul-poets, and flesh-artists, drawn by the legends, slipped away to visit the Redemption District themselves…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on \"Zaelum\"]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Every 500 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Thanks for Reading!]\u003C\u002Fp>",2344,"2026-06-06T13:29:01.689Z",1,"novelbin.me","4f0f599c282c5fecf9a9074c1b9fbe762d176ea93f662ca4fd17913b1936dd7b","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-486","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-484",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]