[{"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-509":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},1681379,2147,"Chapter 509 - 510: The Demon Horde — Hiss~ Pure Hand-to-Hand? This Place Is Too Terrifying!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-509",509,"\u003Cp>Titus couldn't recall a single time he had ever torn apart a Greater Daemon with his bare hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even in the rare one or two occasions when he faced such abominations of Chaos, the battles had been grueling, fought with every ounce of strength, his survival hanging by a thread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet, in the mouth of the Hope Primarch, the Savior himself, it sounded as if Titus could casually crush those monstrous foes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Gene-Father… are you perhaps overestimating me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus sighed inwardly. He had always felt the Hope Primarch held impossibly high expectations of him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hadn't he even suggested Titus duel the Primarch of the White Scars?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The warrior hesitated for a breath, but his face remained carved with determination—he never once offered refusal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Honor was life. Death was duty. The only fear was failure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And he had never once failed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Sworn loyalty until death…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the single thought in Titus' heart now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised his head to meet the expectant gaze of his Gene-Father. His voice was firm, unwavering:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My Lord, I will accomplish this task.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden's expression softened into deep satisfaction, his approval plain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Go, my valiant warrior. Tear every enemy to pieces!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus lifted the brutal skull-visaged helmet, crimson optics flaring to life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned without hesitation, marching outward with a resolute back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden reclined into the command chamber's viewing seat, eager to personally witness the valor of his gene-son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for the possibility of Titus losing?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a thought had never crossed his mind—unless the opponent was a top-ranking Daemon Prince of Chaos or a Primarch-class being.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nothing else could defeat that boy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bzzzz—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across the skies of the Redemption Arena, countless projections of Titus appeared, each radiating the iron aura of an indomitable warrior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My beloved audience, did the last slaughter not stir your hearts with joy and delight?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The announcer's fervent voice rang out, half-drowned beneath distant howls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daemons were assaulting parts of the Arena's facilities.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn these monsters barging in—someone get over here and kill these #&*@ things…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, the host carried on, proving his professional merit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cursing, he drew a sidearm and fired off two shots before a squad of Terror Legion guards rushed in, howling, to surround and brutally stomp the intruding daemons into submission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And now… for a performance more spectacular still!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mopping cold sweat from his brow, the host raised his voice with exaggerated theatrics:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Our noble and glorious heir of Asurmen, master of the Arena, the uncrowned king of Commorragh, has dispatched his personal champion—the Ripper of Daemons—Ti! Tus!!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the projection, flames and blood effects burst dramatically around Titus' image—visual flourishes hastily crafted by bald, overworked Data-Priests of the Black Mechanicus.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came another projection: the Keeper of Secrets, a Slaaneshi Greater Daemon, towering and dreadful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus vs VS Keeper of Secrets!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Data-Priests had enhanced the projection of the daemon as well, adding their little \"touches\" to make it appear far more terrifying than reality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, if the opponent didn't look formidable, how could it highlight the strength of Asurmen's heir's champion?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The announcer's voice cracked into manic ecstasy:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Our Ripper of Daemons, Titus, shall clash with the Chaos Keeper of Secrets! He has sworn to tear the daemon apart with his bare hands—ripping it into fragments beyond repair!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tremble, Keeper!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A wave of thunderous cheers shook the Arena.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"???\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That projection… that's me?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper of Secrets blinked at its grotesque likeness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It didn't look right. The image was too monstrous, lacking all the delicate ornamentation it had prepared. Its carefully crafted aesthetic had been erased!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It did not fit the Slaaneshi sense of beauty at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"A mere bodyguard dares claim he will defeat me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemon's laughter was venomous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And to call yourself the 'Ripper of Daemons'? How laughable.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was, after all, the six-hundred and seventy-eighth ranked Greater Daemon of Slaanesh's realm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper braced itself, watching closely for its foe—but saw no warrior approaching.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had the human lost his nerve? Or was he skulking for a pitiful ambush?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper pondered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, the audience hushed, searching for Titus' entrance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whispers spread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How would Titus make his appearance?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>SCREEEEEE—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A tide of crimson Tyranid beasts surged forth, smashing into the daemon host before the Keeper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fiends were scattered aside as the swarm carved a bloody path straight toward the Keeper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, the mass parted. From its heart emerged a road.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon it strode a towering warrior clad in black, barbed armor—Titus, the Ripper of Daemons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Arena erupted into chants of his name, their frenzy fueling him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heavy chains coiled around his arms and torso, weighing him down like iron serpents.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes fixed on the Keeper, unflinching, his steps measured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daemons lunged—but every assailant was thrown back by leaping Tyranids. Others were blown to ash by Arbitrators' alchemical grenades.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nothing slowed Titus' advance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper shrieked, commanding its horde to stand down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wanted this duel—this execution—to be seen by all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The circle cleared, a battlefield left open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus and the daemon stood face to face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the Keeper loomed meters taller, Titus' gaze was steadfast, his aura unbroken.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tension thickened in the air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Pitiful human dog of the Mon-keigh, I will tear your guts out and tie them into bows as you beg for mercy.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper twirled its blade in a deadly flourish, the ritual trash-talk of war in both realspace and the Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its words dripped poison and threat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus answered only with action.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He drove his master-crafted power sword into the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then cast aside his Arbitrator weapon. His relic blade. All of them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He even unfastened his helm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bare-handed, he faced the Keeper of Secrets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"???\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemon froze, stunned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So too did the crowd, erupting in uproar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could this man truly be so insane as to challenge a Greater Daemon unarmed?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Titus! Titus! Titus!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The chants grew frenzied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…Hhh—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden inhaled sharply, rising from his throne in shock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the Gene-Father was rattled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Did that boy misunderstand me?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden frowned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he told Titus to \"tear apart a Greater Daemon,\" it had been a figure of speech.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd only meant for him to finish the daemon dramatically—rip it apart after slaying it in proper battle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Titus had taken his words literally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No hesitation. Pure hand-to-hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So that was why Titus had paused earlier—not in doubt, not in fear, but pondering how to fulfill his Gene-Father's order literally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truly worthy of you, Titus!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden sank back, shaking his head in awe, and casually ordered a Bloody Ice-Cola to steady his nerves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, the Arena served delicacies from across the galaxy and the Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Titus dared this, he must have weighed his strength. No need for worry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back in the Arena, the Keeper hissed with rage at the insult.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You arrogant little insect. You will pay dearly for such hubris!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before its words had finished, its venomous blade swept in a killing arc.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No unarmed human could hope to block such a strike—Imperial power armor itself would not suffice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>CLANG!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The blade rang off something unyielding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus had raised his chain-wrapped arms to block.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemon blinked in disbelief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Again it hacked. Again sparks flew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No harm. Only cracks forming along the daemon's weapon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The chains—ancient alloys forged from a sacrificed relic warship, once fed to Tyranid broods by a deranged noble—were unbreakable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their strength was beyond measure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden, ever the middleman, had quietly kept a portion for himself during the \"transaction.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some went to study. The rest, reforged into these chains—now Titus' weapon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…to make his combat power surge even higher.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>BOOM—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A wet, meaty thud rang out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seizing the Keeper's moment of shock, Titus kicked his jump pack to life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He blasted straight for the daemon's face and, under the jet's brutal acceleration, hammered in an uppercut.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper of Secrets' features twisted; a blood-slick tooth spun away and its jaw skewed out of line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet it managed to right itself mid-air, flipped back and opened the gap—its serpentine tail lanced in at a wicked angle, slashing across the human warrior's flank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Deep gouges scored the ceramite, and blood seeped through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper felt a stab of pride.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that exchange the human suffered worse; its true battle strength was well beyond what rank alone suggested!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Slaaneshi Greater Daemon's mirage-body snaked around Titus, its vicious eyes raking up and down, probing for the smallest opening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It knew it held the advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stripped of his bolter and power weapons by his own arrogance, the human had shed most of his offense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His reach was drastically reduced as well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All the daemon had to do was play to its superior range—and torture him at leisure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper orbited Titus in a blur of slashes, moving faster than ordinary eyes could follow—only streaking light and the spark-spatter of blade on metal remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Any daemon or Tyranid fool enough to drift close was diced to chunks in a single pass of that flickering edge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A taut hush gripped the crowd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anyone could see it—Asurmen's heir's personal champion, Titus, was hard-pressed on the defense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wounds multiplied on the warrior's body; at any moment he might falter and fall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And when that arrogant human toppled, the heir of Asurmen would lose face—and authority.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Arrogant little thing… savor the pleasures the Dark Prince bestows…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Noting the human's motions slowing, the Keeper seized its chance—slid in close and, mouth to mouth, vented a long-prepared cloud of hallucinogenic miasma of tongue and fangs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The warrior didn't even have a dedicated anti-warp screen installed—his failure was assured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This would seal the win!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tailor-mixed hallucinogenic mist engulfed Titus, invading through rents and seams in his armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The chaos-tuned particles within detonated the senses of any they touched—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some victims felt the copper-sweet kiss of a lover; some heard a cherished one's last rattling breath; some re-lived, nerve by nerve, an ancestor's evisceration three centuries past.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Helmetless, Titus inhaled even more of the haze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond those phantoms, yet another vision surfaced—the memories he most longed for:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His Gene-Father's warm praise; the holy oils crackling on the armor during investiture…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His sight failed entirely; the world became walls of ecstatic frescoes, forbidden chapters from the Book of Excess searing themselves into his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such was the terror of the mist—stealing the target's senses in battle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the field, that meant death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper's razors scythed through the fog, rewarded by the crunch of breaking flesh and bone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It felt the bite of the cut—joy flared. It had struck the human's vitals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd, rapt, cried out as one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To the full-throated roar of a master-crafted power-armor reactor—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A crushing force tore out from the far side of the haze. Chains snaked forth, coiling the daemon's arm and cinching tight—brutally limiting its motion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The miasma shredded away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus' battle-scarred face locked back into focus; the daemon's blade, which had carved from shoulder to upper chest, now jammed uselessly against the chain coils.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had spared his life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That had been Titus' aim: endure the assault on his senses by raw will,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then use that single heartbeat—trade wound for control—and choke the enemy's speed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now it was his turn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…No—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Staring at the blood-soaked, murder-grim Titus, the Keeper tasted fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It heaved against the chains, yanked hard—and only dragged Titus into clinch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Close-quarters!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Titus swam in seas of daemons, Orks, and Tyranids alike—melee was his truest craft.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He crashed in chest-to-chest, both hands locking the Keeper—then smashed in headbutt after headbutt, his own brow splitting and running.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemon howled louder; its blade-arm thrashed, only to be swallowed by more and more binding chains.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were not coming apart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that warrior's aura the Slaaneshi greater daemon even sensed the reek of Khorne—the tang only a Bloodthirster should have.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus and the Keeper tumbled and grappled, each strike hunting for kill-spots at viciously intimate range.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fight burned white-hot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whip—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That poisoned tail darted for the human's skull—aimed to end him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus slipped it by a hair—then bit down on the tail, tore savagely, and a fan of gore spattered the sand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper spasmed in agony; before it could rip free, Titus' hands seized the cranial horn-tendrils—ripped them out root and all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The screaming rose to a ragged keening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Titus… tearing a Greater Daemon… with his hands…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence fell—then the Arena detonated into its wildest roar yet. Too explosive to comprehend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their reverence for the warrior—and for Eden—surged higher still.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper sagged, beaten limp, as Titus pounded him—rending the body, strip by strip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the daemon's wails frayed to a hoarse rasp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It stared up at Titus, a flicker of pleading in its eyes. \"Human warrior… end me.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Better banishment to the Warp than this drawn-out humiliation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Titus was unmoved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His Gene-Father had ordered him to tear a Greater Daemon apart. It wasn't torn yet. How could he stop?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Keeper's host saw their master flayed and broken; even hellspawn livers quailed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daemon-fear seeped across the Redemption Arena.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their formations unraveled; their counter-attacks lost heart; some fled outright for the Warp-rents.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they scuttled past the mangled Keeper, none dared look at him—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Terrified of drawing the gaze of Asurmen's heir's personal champion—the Ripper of Daemons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The daemon host soon shattered—cut down by the Arena's allied army—while the Keeper's hoarse howls… continued.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the far side of the Warp's veil, within the Immaterium—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A Slaaneshi Greater Daemon, Kali'en, the Pain-Chord, closed a claw around a fleeing Daemonette, squeezing agony into her nerves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Craven deserter. Tell me—your master. What fate?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blood bubbled from the Daemonette's lips; under torment she sang her answer in broken notes: \"T-torn… torn apart!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>CRACK—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Daemonette popped in his grip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kali'en flicked the scraps aside. His voice grated like a thousand barbs across glass:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That incompetent is dead—as I said, I should have gone first. Sending a weakling to lead only shames the Dark Prince…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The greater daemon beat black bat-wings and strode into the warp-rent with perfect confidence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Over the Arena, a fresh hell-concerto erupted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ha… ha—huh?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kali'en's fanged head thrust through the veil; he froze mid-cackle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His view: a plain carpeted in daemon corpses—and a horizon-wide coalition of mixed species.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tyranid broods gnawed on remains; the Drukhari carved the bodies with artistic malice;\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Orks jabbed the backside of a daemon behemoth with great clubs, making it twitch and whine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That whine—too familiar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kali'en turned and found that \"vanguard\" Keeper enduring intricate torments—flayed to the bone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wretch's arm was torn off—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thunk—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—and the severed limb bounced off Kali'en's head, sparking instant rage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He felt the eyes upon him: the human who had ripped a greater daemon alive; whole cohorts of gladiators; tides of Orks and Tyranids—and the roaring crowd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every blood-damp gaze pivoted to the newly arrived Slaaneshi greater daemon—hunger glinting within.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hush fell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…This seems… dangerous?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kali'en swallowed, eased back through the veil, and slipped away\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—as if he had never been there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This must be reported to the Hell Calamity—and to the Prince of Pleasure himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oi, what's with that one?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hulking, muscle-corded Slaaneshi greater daemon rumbled—voice big and boorish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"T-torn… torn apart…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kali'en drew a deep breath—and gave the same answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of this chapter's text.)\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>",2558,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.268Z",1,"novelbin.me","98c6f07b0593bdd1a3512578ceb4b6d413aad6ec4538f5ab0eaf8ec2bee5fc43","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-510","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-508",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]