[{"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-508":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},1681378,2147,"Chapter 508 - 509: Savior: Titus, why don’t you give everyone a show by tearing a Greater Daemon apart with your bare hands?","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-508",508,"\u003Cp>Screech!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Tyranid spore sack burst open, spilling dozens of Rippers that landed around the Keeper of Secrets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some even latched onto his face, venomous claws scratching frantically in a frenzy of slashing and tearing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the trouble with Rippers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were cannon fodder—individually weak, but capable of forming a tide of flesh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So long as they got close enough to slash their enemy a few times, they had fulfilled their mission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Either they shredded the enemy into ribbons, or their corpses bogged the foe down in place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn vermin!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper of Secrets roared in pain, tearing the creatures from his face and crushing them to pulp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While the Rippers couldn't inflict serious harm, they were like venomous, agonizing mosquito bites—thousands of them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They swarmed without pause, scratching and clawing until his body was marked with countless small, stinging wounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enraged beyond reason, the Keeper stamped them underfoot, then swung his three bladed arms in a spinning frenzy, slicing apart all nearby life—including a few unfortunate Daemonettes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it made no difference.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Tyranid bio-ships continued to rain spore pods upon his position, using the terrain to their advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More and more Rippers surged forward like a tidal wave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper stumbled, feet swept from beneath him, and was swallowed whole by the chittering mass. Even his towering form vanished beneath the swarm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the wisdom of the Tyranids—and of the Savior's Blade Wing—using endless waves of low-cost fodder to smother the enemy's core units.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their purpose was to consume and stall the enemy's elite, preventing them from wreaking greater havoc on the battlefield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, the hybrid armies of the Redemption Arena pressed their furious assault, breaching the daemonic line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The warzone resounded with thunderous bombardments as Chaos forces were divided into isolated pockets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tyranid Hierophants and Hive Tyrants rampaged at the head of their swarms. Lictors lurked unseen, striking at daemon commanders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ork Deff Dreads and Killa Kans smashed into daemon monstrosities head-on, while boyz grabbed howling Daemonettes and beat them senseless, ignoring their own wounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dark Eldar Kabalite warriors advanced with ruthless precision, their fire elegant and lethal, methodical in every strike.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Gladiator hosts screened the flanks, intercepting scattered daemon detachments.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the Arena's augury projectors lit up with dozens of live combat feeds, broadcasting the most spectacular clashes to the roaring crowd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Heretic, die!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A Penitent warrior of the Executioners Chapter hacked a Helbrute apart with his twin axes, then beheaded a bounding Flesh Hound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a roar, he charged a Seekers' chariot bristling with spinning blades and serrated scythes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Penitent had gone mad with slaughter, his mind filled only with devotion to the Emperor and the memory of his Chapter's homeworld.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Spectators who had bet on him clutched their seats in dread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But their fears were unfounded. The Executioners were a warband infamous for savagery, their doctrine revolving around seeking out and annihilating all mankind's foes, heedless of strategy or restraint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To most other Astartes, the Executioners were little more than undisciplined primitives—blood-caked headhunters barely better than renegades.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But killing was what they did best.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Seeker chariot roared forward, its whirling blades shrieking as if ready to shred the Space Marine to ribbons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the Penitent showed not a trace of fear. Sprinting hard, he hurled a battle-axe with perfect aim into the chariot's gears, jamming them for a heartbeat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The weapon was shattered an instant later, the blades spinning anew—but the opening had been made.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a burst of his jump pack, the Executioner launched into the air, soaring straight for the daemon drivers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two shrieking Seekers realized the danger too late.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Astartes came down hard, both feet crushing one daemon's skull with a sickening crack.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You have no resistance left…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He seized the second daemon by the throat and hurled it into the chariot's own blades. A spray of gore painted the arena floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Blood for blood—accept execution!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seizing control of the chariot, the Penitent turned it against the daemon ranks, its scything wheels carving through their number like a harvester through grass.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ladies and gentlemen, our Executioner has tallied one hundred and thirteen kills! The little daemon darlings must be crying now! Hahahaha! Give it up for the Executioner!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Arena announcer's hoarse roar echoed, the warrior's ferocity winning the love of the crowd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Countless xenos and neutral entities cheered for the Angel of the Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some alien beauties even swooned, tossing intimate garments onto the projection field.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others hurled insults at the daemons, making the battle seem more like a deranged spectacle than a war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemons, goaded beyond endurance, turned incandescent with rage—not only being beaten, but openly mocked by the rabble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was too much to bear! Did mortals take them for less than daemons?!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Snarling, some broke from formation, hurling themselves toward the spectator stands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the command chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Who would have thought that a war against daemons could turn into this?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden gazed across the Arena, his voice tinged with reflection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A century ago, when his domain had faced a daemonic host, it had been calamity incarnate—his people unable to sleep for fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, against the same kind of army, he could meet them with ease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even crush them outright.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And this time, most of the fighting was being done by xenos auxiliaries. He hardly had to worry about casualties.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Indeed—development was the ultimate truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden finally understood why the Tau Empire had once pursued auxiliaries among humanity and other species.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Letting alien strengths carry the front line… it was glorious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was his strategy now: preserve humanity's primacy, but grow a powerful network of alien auxiliaries to reduce human losses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Especially against Chaos daemons. To pit mortal men against an endless, unkillable legion of warp-spawn was suicide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Better to bleed them with xenos first, then claim victory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Redemption Satellite Zone was vital as a settlement for those auxiliaries. No mishap could be allowed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Spotting the daemon push toward the galleries, Eden turned to Ilyss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Are the spectator defenses primed?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ilyss nodded. \"All forcefields and weapon systems in those sectors are online. Available to any guest. Free of charge.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Normally, every weapon emplacement and turret in the spectator tiers was locked behind exorbitant fees—much like those arcade fish-shooting games. Ammunition and upgrades all cost money, usually at obscene markups.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not that the rich cared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But today, every gun was unlocked, free for all. A once-in-a-lifetime chance for the audience to fire without restraint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"With that, there should be no problem…\" Eden murmured, eyes locked on the charging daemons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The noble guests of the galaxy were his golden trees of coin, their extravagant spending funneling wealth from countless alien realms straight into his coffers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nothing could be allowed to happen to them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moments earlier—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the spectator tier, inside a lavish VIP box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For the Emperor!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Long live the Imperium!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sana and Heye, two drunken companions, sat in adjoining rows, shouting alongside the feed of the Executioner's rampage, trembling with excitement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had just wagered on the Marine—and Sana, following his friend's luck, had staked every last coin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Executioner had delivered, exceeding every expectation, and their coffers had swelled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were beside themselves with glee, raising glasses in a celebratory toast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sana drained his wine in one swallow, sighing in delight. \"What a glorious fight! Let us salute the Executioner—he is our star of fortune!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Indeed! We must celebrate properly!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heye, emboldened, summoned service.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heavy footsteps announced the arrival of several Ork \"beauty-mekz\" from the adjoining chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They wore tight skirts and high heels, eyelashes lacquered, lips painted red with sparkling shadow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though muscular and tusked, the work of flesh-shapers had made them oddly comely—everything in its place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hormonal treatments had gentled their tempers too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were the runts of Ork society, pathetic weeping grots bullied to death if left to their kind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Arena's Ork-management bureau had plucked them out, remade them with surgery and enhancements, fitted them with… extra parts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The proposal had passed Eden's desk with little thought—later he discovered the author was himself a frequent client of \"greenskin services.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly premeditated. In a galaxy so vast, nothing was too strange. Even greenskin maidens had their clientele.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden had considered canceling the bizarre service—but to his surprise, it was wildly popular, embraced by the galaxy's nobility.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Here's the full English translation of your new passage (with lore names aligned and checked):\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They treated it as a dare for the brave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Eden let them have their fun—if the Drukhari wanted \"specialty services,\" so be it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If nobles liked to chase thrills, that was fine too; it even boosted sales of medical services and insurance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even a \"timid\" Ork was terrifying by most species' standards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One careless squeeze and your employer could end up with comminuted fractures.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Out of sight, out of mind—and those cowardly greenskins, who'd otherwise be clubbed to death by their own kind, could at least be monetized.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"WAAAGH!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lead Ork beauty-mek bellowed, spraying spittle all over Heye's face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I know, I know, my little darling…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This alien princeling spoke with the Orks fluently, smooth as silk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled out a handful of teef—glimmering Ork \"gold\" teeth as currency—and pressed them into the lead mek's palm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After centuries of life, Heye had sampled every \"type\" of beauty under the stars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was bored—almost impotent from ennui.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But these Ork beauty-meks were different. They fired every nerve in his body. In a word—explosive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lead mek pocketed the teef and withdrew, leaving several surprisingly pretty greenskin meks behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Very soon, Heye was luxuriating in a \"massage\" that was a bit too enthusiastic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bones popped, vertebrae clicked, and from time to time a piledriver punch landed—one heartbeat away from full-blown rage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Brother, want to try it? If you've never taken on a greenskin beauty, you can't call yourself a truly brave noble.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heye glanced at Sana and made the pitch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among nobles, the competition was always in the oddest places. It wasn't about pleasure—it was about rarity, extravagance, and difficulty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was how they proved they stood above the herd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And if this weren't a public venue, it wouldn't stop at a \"massage.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sana was tempted—until he clocked those bulging Ork muscles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Reality sank in: he'd be paste. Bones first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were stories of nobles who overestimated themselves, sampled greenskin services, and triggered a medical rescue—dragged out in public by Blood Masquer med-teams to jeers and laughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sana refused to let a lifetime's reputation go up in smoke—or be branded a coward—so he bluffed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He smacked his lips wistfully. \"Not bad at all, those greenskins. Sadly, I'm a bit tired today—can't do them justice.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heye cut him a side-eye but didn't press it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, a warning tone blared inside the box—danger approaching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside, daemons howled with glee, impatient to torment their prey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hah! Finally.\" Sana and Heye's eyes lit up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They'd received the Arena's notice earlier: all the spectator weapons were unlocked for free this round.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They'd been waiting for this exact moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Letting enemies crash the stands was a signature Redemption Arena program.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every box had ample defensive and combat space set aside for it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ignore their interceptors—storm the stands and seize every soul!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lord of Excess fixed his crimson eyes on the teeming galleries and gave the order.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daemon vanguards hurled themselves at the line, bleeding for every step.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most were stopped, but many still slipped through and pounced toward the spectators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the Slaaneshi plan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The spearhead was doomed to fail—but before banishment, they had to snatch trophies, or face the Dark Prince's wrath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>However… the gun-emplacements at every box and seat cycled live.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the audience's hands they erupted—dense curtains of energy and solid shot scythed down the daemons in droves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What is happening?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching his minions drop like flies, the Lord of Excess went numb.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why did the stands have more firepower than the line? Since when were Drukhari and the galaxy's hoi polloi this deadly?!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so, some daemons did break into the galleries—so it wasn't a total loss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Several Howlers swooped onto a terrace, staring hungrily at a trembling Drukhari child:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hush—don't cry. I'll make you forget all pain… just hand over your soul.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Look at that tender skin. The color when it opens will be exquisite.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They planned to savor the rare prey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then—in their vision—the Drukhari child raised a toy-like pistol with shaking hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pop—bang!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the Howler could sneer, its head vanished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the latest luxury pocket-weapon co-developed by Asurmen's Heir, the Dark Mechanicum, and master haemonculi—small, but vicious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ha! Father, I hit it!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The child looked back, thrilled—clearly bait a moment earlier, luring the daemons close.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bullying the daemons, now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Howlers hissed in fury—only to be drowned under a storm of beams.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today's weapons and ammo were unlimited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Governor, don't be shy.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heye shouldered a heavy ray-cannon, whistled, and waved to the child and the governor in the next box.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The governor nodded thanks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even without the alien prince's help, the box's forcefield would have held—for now—but sharing fire was an unspoken pact among spectators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because surprises always happen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sana's side had one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gun-turret glitched, allowing a mass breach—Daemonettes scrambled into the box by the dozen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Razor claws and scything crab-pincers scored deep furrows across the floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn it… this is bad.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cold sweat beaded on Sana's brow. This might be the end—and would the insurance even pay out?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If a daemon took your soul, even a Blood Masquer stitching your body back together wouldn't help.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The poet-artist's heart hammered—death's breath on his neck.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Skreee!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A reinforced alloy cage at the back shuddered, spitting sparks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sana's treasured mutant Tyranid Warrior scented the daemons and went wild.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He snapped to it, threw the latch, and prayed:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My darling—this one's on you!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>WHAM—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mutant Tyranid Warrior blew the door off, launched onto the terrace, and its living blades sheared the Daemonettes in half.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These hand-reared, resource-stuffed Tyranid units were stronger than the norm—elite among elites.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Worth every credit!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Snatched from doom, Sana watched his Warrior carve through foes and burst into tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"From now on, you're family—my dearest brother…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soul-poet vowed to invest even more, to make his Tyranid deadlier still.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, in the next box—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hahaha! Brilliant, my sweet!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heye's voice rang with delight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The beauty-meks, triggered by the daemons, went berserk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They ripped their tight skirts, vaulted the rail, and pinned daemons to the floor with a storm of punches.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The alien prince admired their broad backs, falling even deeper in love.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn daemons—lay hands on my people?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the meks take hits, his fury spiked. He signaled his own Tyranids to support.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A sleek, oil-sheened mutant Hive Tyrant, genetically spliced and vat-bred from Rippers, slithered down the wall without a sound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moments later, only daemon remains lay twitching on the tiles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across the galleries, Tyranid screeches multiplied—more VIPs unleashed their painstakingly cultivated bio-pets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemons began to hesitate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the terror of the mega-whale menagerie: some Tyranid specimens here cost more than ancient warships.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short order, the daemons in the spectator tiers were wiped out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It ended so fast that many guests were left hungry for the next surprise attraction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Command chamber.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Whew… the audience hit harder than I expected.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the guests' combat power, Eden finally relaxed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he felt a gaze of pure malice. He turned, looking out the floor-to-ceiling panes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the distance, pink fire boiled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Greater Keeper of Secrets had conjured a warp-blaze that incinerated the Ripper swarms—and now looked directly here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It had found the command post and was moving to decapitate the leadership.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Titus…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden wasn't worried. He turned to his indomitable gene-son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The performance had run this far; it was time for Asurmen's Heir to make a statement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He asked:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Can you stop the Keeper of Secrets?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus glanced at the towering daemon, jaw set. \"My lord, I will fight to the end—until its life is ended.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Good.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden recalled Titus's absurd feats from a former life's vid-games.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Confidence surged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We're here anyway—go show them your signature move. Tear the Greater Daemon apart with your bare hands. Proclaim your might!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Savior's tone was like a relative at New Year's, nudging his kid to perform \"smash the stone on your chest\" for visiting aunties.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his view…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only that would truly intimidate the daemons and shock the audience—showing the strength of Asurmen's Heir.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Bare… bare-hand a Greater Daemon?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus's stony face twitched, ever so slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silently, he prayed:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"By the Emperor… I don't think I've ever done that before.\"\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>",2779,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.268Z",1,"novelbin.me","148d087a02755c3245e7bd346a0ced65868b9d7eedb18b6c27f142515345751d","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-509","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-507",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]