[{"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-521":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},1681391,2147,"Chapter 521 - 522: Savior – The New Reinforcements, the Plague Host Marches!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-521",521,"\u003Cp>At the instant the Asurmen's Heir appeared in projection, the air grew cold, runes of frost crawling across the walls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All the shadows came alive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The denizens of Commorragh realized their silhouettes were twisting—within them gleamed icy, predatory eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were the dreaded nightmare-creatures of the other dimensions, grotesque amalgams like statues corrupted by darkness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the past, their arrival would have driven the people to terror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now, it was different. Now they knew: the nightmares were the will of their Savior—the Asurmen's Heir.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bayron stared up at that noble phantom, as if salvation itself had descended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Our Savior… has come!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At once, a tide of black phantoms surged from the shadows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clambering, twisting, leaping across obstacles, they formed a vast, dark flood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a roar, it slammed into the violet abominations, shielding the citizens of Commorragh from the claws of Chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Sun of Commorragh! Guide us, O Lord!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Do you see? Do you see him? We are saved!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The survivors wept, trembling with relief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They looked to the phantom of the Asurmen's Heir, tears pouring, reverence overflowing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some, overcome, cut their own flesh to scrawl runes of devotion in blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And such scenes were mirrored throughout the Dark City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden had broadcast the phantom everywhere the signal could reach, unleashing the full forces of the Redemption Satellite Zone:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the Mandrake-born Shadow Legions, the Redemption Kabal's armed cohorts, Incubi squads, Orks, even Tyranids.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their task was not to destroy the daemons—only to protect civilians, guiding them to the satellite zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For now the rifts were new, Chaos had only begun to pour through. With local cabal forces and defenses, they could just hold the line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It could not be helped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the Dark Eldar were devoured by Slaanesh or any of the other gods, the Ruinous Powers would only grow stronger. Better to claim them—make them his own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through the mask of the Asurmen's Heir, he could fold them into his dominion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More importantly, this was a chance to relocate the Dark Eldar from Commorragh's core into the satellite zone—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—and then claim the very heart of the webway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Commorragh, jewel of the ancient Aeldari empire, the greatest of webway cities. To call it the capital of the galaxy was no exaggeration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of the richest prizes in existence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This gamble… one bike into a starship—no, a battleship!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden rubbed his hands at the thought, excitement scattering the clouds of dread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The greater the storm, the greater the profit. Risk and reward marched hand in hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And for Commorragh, this was worth staking everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, retreat was impossible now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor Himself had gone all in. If Eden tried to run, the Emperor's psychic backhand would spin him like a top.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Children of Commorragh, I am the Asurmen's Heir, of ancient noble blood, your Savior!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden drew a deep breath, addressing the whole Dark City through projection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, during his propaganda war against Vect, he had laid a full comms grid. Without it, this broadcast would have been impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now his words spread across every sector, reaching almost every Dark Eldar ear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Know this grim truth. Through the Supreme Overlord Vect's mad ascension plan, vast rifts have torn through the veil of Commorragh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slaanesh, the Dark Gods, and even the Primarch of Man have intruded. This city cannot withstand such calamity—it stands upon the brink of annihilation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I strove to save this Dark City, but failed. Nothing can undo what has come.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His solemn voice laid bare the disaster, laying all blame at Vect's feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The destruction of Commorragh demanded a scapegoat—and who better than the tyrant who had caused it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Asurmen's Heir's lamentation crushed what little hope remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dark Eldar collapsed to their knees in despair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was like telling humanity that Holy Terra had been destroyed—that the Imperial Palace lay in ruins.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What… what do we do?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bayron stared hollowly at the phantom of the Asurmen's Heir, his last lifeline snapped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What else?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nearby, a kabalite warrior laughed bitterly. \"We die. Our souls taken by She Who Thirsts, condemned to eternal torment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Do you hear? We all die!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He slashed his throat open, blood gushing as he fell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lying in a spreading pool, he choked on crimson froth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"At least… not in their claws…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes closed in death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in that moment, he still heard the Asurmen's Heir's voice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes. I cannot save this city. But I can save you—my noble kin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Asurmen's Heir does not break oaths. I vowed to save the Dark Eldar, and I will.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now is the hour of that promise.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The phantom's voice rang with renewed fire:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"From this day forth, the Redemption Satellite Zone opens its gates. All Dark Eldar may come.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My forces will hold the daemons long enough for you to escape.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the evacuation is complete, I will seal every passage to the Satellite Zone, forever barring the claws of She Who Thirsts!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pressed on, his tone blazing:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This scourge of Chaos is terrible, yes—but it cannot end our race.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Satellite Zone, you will dwell under the blessing of Isha, our Mother of Life, free at last of the Thirsting One's corruption.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I, the Asurmen's Heir, will grant you sanctuary, souls, arms and ammunition, and a new life—hope itself!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he spoke, the projection raised its hands high, voice swelling to fervor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not a retreat into ruin—but a march toward renewal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"From this moment begins the Great Exodus of Commorragh!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All who will follow me, go now to the evacuation points.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Transports await to bear you to the Satellite Zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hurry, my children! She Who Thirsts is ravenous, our time is short.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In seven Dark Nights, the passages will be destroyed. Any left here will perish utterly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But remember: the end of Commorragh is not the end of us. It buries our torment and heralds our rebirth!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The phantom's words echoed ceaselessly across the city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Despair turned to awe—then to wild joy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bayron clutched his child close, sobbing with relief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We live! We will reach the Satellite Zone—the paradise of the Dark Eldar!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Save me…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A bloodied hand clutched at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the kabalite who had slit his throat. Eyes snapped open once more, realizing he might yet survive—that he too might reach the fabled Satellite Zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And bitter regret filled his gaze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps he had cut too soon…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The doomed kabalite thrashed on the ground, realizing he might still be saved. He grabbed the sleeve of a nearby Drukhari merchant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was desperate not to miss out on the Great Exodus—or the promised resettlement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Warrior, I can save you—but you'll escort us to the Redemption Satellite Zone.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a moment's hesitation, Bayron chose to save the kabalite—and set the terms of a pact.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With abominations everywhere, a blade at their side could mean survival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the kabalite swore, Bayron yanked a stim-injector from the warrior's gear and plunged it into him. The dose dragged him back from the brink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Drukhari body—and spirit—are resilient.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even mortal wounds can be snatched from death's jaw. With a Haemonculus on hand, a corpse could even be stitched back together and revived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After that, Bayron's group rushed for the evacuation zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everywhere, the Asurmen's Heir had mobilized armed cohorts and skiff-transports.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Working with local kabals, they held Chaos at bay while lifting one district after another to safety bound for the Satellite Zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that moment, all of Commorragh moved as one under the Asurmen's Heir—united to weather the cataclysm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though not yet crowned, with Vect's death the Asurmen's Heir was, in truth, the sole ruler the Drukhari would heed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one dared disobey the commands of noble blood—least of all now, when obedience meant survival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Boom. Boom. Boom—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Commorragh, Evacuation District.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Batteries thundered, shredding scattered daemon probes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Forces from the Redemption Satellite Zone carved out safe quadrants and opened corridor after corridor for refugees to pass.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Compared to the chaos outside, order reigned here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kabalite warriors showed no fear—only disciplined, silent execution of the plan: extract, embark, withdraw.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Asurmen's Heir stood behind them. The high one had arranged everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All they had to do was follow orders.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ragged refugee columns felt that iron calm settle over them. Panic ebbed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They boarded the transports to the Satellite Zone in orderly lines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One after another, skiff-transports lifted off, banking toward webway spurs that would carry them to safety.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aboard a transport, hold bay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Perhaps this is the last time we'll ever see the Dark City…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through a porthole, Bayron watched war-wreathed Commorragh dwindle behind them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From this day forth, they were leaving the home of generations—never to return.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Realizing this, a faint smile touched his face; the fear in his chest began to melt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a good thing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the tyrant Vect and the constant threat of abominations, few Drukhari truly loved that city—fewer still wished to remain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And after years of the Asurmen's Heir's relentless messaging, the Redemption Satellite Zone had become their shining ideal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lingering glow of the ancient Aeldari empire; a dreamland of sanctuary. Many had begged, paid fortunes, and still failed to earn a place there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now, all could go—under Isha's blessing—beyond the grasp of She Who Thirsts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To the Drukhari, this was a great clear-and-resettle—a mass relocation out of filthy Commorragh, a coveted residency in the Satellite Zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lives turned upside down in a single night. A windfall beyond hope.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>None would linger for the Dark City; all were impatient for the Satellite Zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no mourning aboard the transports—only celebration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They chattered about the new life awaiting them: the wondrous cityscapes, the holy statue of the Mother of Life, the soul-gardens, the Redemption Arena—every detail a familiar dream.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some even felt a twisted gratitude toward She Who Thirsts: without the invasion, the Asurmen's Heir might never have opened the gates to all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, the original residents of the Satellite Zone were less thrilled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They grumbled that this flood of outsiders would crowd their great city and dilute their highborn dignity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, the refugees would be staged in outlying sectors first—and would need effort and service to earn full residency.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They would become new labor, or join the musters—fuel for the city's growth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, by Eden's audacious hand, the annihilation of Commorragh became a demolition-style exodus—a win for all sides.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Drukhari reached their longed-for haven; Commorragh itself would be left vacant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seal the right webway mouths, isolate it from the Satellite Zone, close the Grand Rift, drive out the daemon tide—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—and Eden could finally claim the webway metropolis he'd coveted for so long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It would be the victory the Emperor Himself had awaited—at last, after millennia, humanity would command the webway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet even as the first wave sailed gladly for sanctuary, Commorragh's condition worsened.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Spire-top terrace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The rifts are growing faster than projected. At this rate, we won't hold them back…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden stared upward. The tears in reality yawned wider like vast, bleeding wounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not only across the city—soon even the Black Throne's domain might be at risk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Throne's repairs might never finish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flicked to a vox-projection, hailing the White Scar Primarch:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old Khan—how much longer can you hold?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Primarch gunned a sacred engine across a causeway, pulverizing a snarling daemon engine as he replied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His face was stone; the strain, immense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"At this rate of rip-expansion, without reinforcements—three days at most.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glanced aside, a spark of hope in his eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Tell me straight: do we have reinforcements?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden sighed. \"We do. Just… not the kind you're expecting.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A pulse rolled through the aether—a psychic message.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The signal he'd been waiting for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His reinforcements were the Grandfather's own—Great Unclean Ones and their hosts, swollen with vengeance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the War in the Garden, they had… changed. And they were eager to surprise their old enemies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Garden of Nurgle, Immaterium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thick yellow fog swaddled a foul expanse—a jungle where life and plague took physical form, a kingdom of rot and toxin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in many places, the groves were charred black.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scars of war had not yet healed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since the battle that ravaged the Garden, Nurgle had slumbered long, assailed by rival gods and the Cursed. The power of pestilence had withdrawn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Few Great Unclean Ones had stirred to trouble the galaxy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most had returned to the Garden—those who ventured out did not raid but… prepared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the reason had a name: the newly raised First Favorite, a Great Unclean One—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Barag the Glutton.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before Grandfather slept, he made his First Favorite steward of the Garden.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Barag—the sly infiltrator, the gluttonous Great Unclean One—had utterly warped the Garden's ways.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Grandfather! Giving the Garden to Barag was a complete and utter mistake!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A sickly storm broke as twisted, screaming vines punched through the mud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Second Favorite, the Generous One, the Rainfather—Rotigus—strode into the Garden, seething.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fresh from the Immaterium fronts, Rotigus had learned a galling truth:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By Barag's orders, Great Unclean Ones not engaged at the front had suspended their realspace invasions— hiding in the Garden, \"researching\" a new grand plan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rotigus knew Barag: a glutton who feasted and shirked, who had barely lifted a claw in war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He doubted the oaf could produce anything of worth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This \"grand plan\" reeked of avoidance and indolence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Rotigus waded into the First Favorite's bog, the air filled with the soft, silly lullaby of plague-flies and the Nurgling choirs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The little musicians hushed him with tiny fingers to lips, worried he'd wake the First Favorite and his \"guests.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rotigus found them head-down in the muck, snoring—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>the First Favorite sprawled wide, and several other top-rank Great Unclean Ones in laughably contorted sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only one thought remained to the Rainfather:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ruined… they're all ruined.\"\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>",2314,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.268Z",1,"novelbin.me","d53c9718763fae793bafbfe3bff9294284e8baa47121524bf6c8c3985a018862","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-522","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-520",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]