[{"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-523":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},1681393,2147,"Chapter 523 - 524. The Savior: “Your Majesty the Emperor, I’ve got a little something to ask you…”","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-523",523,"\u003Cp>The ground trembled faintly, and the storm-winds overhead tightened into denser vortices.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the very pinnacle, the whirlpool turned slowly above the Throne's crown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Golden, serpentine currents lit the engines; sacred power coursed through vein-like conduits, making the whole edifice exude ancient gravitas until even the air turned heavy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A dense, pounding thrum grew clear—thoom, thoom, thoom—a heartbeat rolling across the sector.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eternal, untouchable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the top, the Black Throne drowned beneath golden radiance, its glow mingling with the curling smoke of sanctified oils and candles—so holy it seemed one with the incense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sacred hymns swelled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The High Ecclesiarch of the Urth Ecclesiarchy directed a choir tens of thousands strong, chanting paeans to the Savior in honor of all he had given for Mankind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everything felt profoundly sacred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a gantry of the machine-monument, the White Scars Primarch, Khan, and the Custodians lifted their gaze to the Savior upon the Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A glint of respect touched their eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Hope-Primarch Savior was doing the same deed the Emperor once had—risking everything to wrest a future for the Imperium.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, none of them knew the Black Throne plan had a success rate north of 99%.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ordinarily, if an operation's odds dipped below 80%, the Savior wasn't keen to \"send it.\" And whenever a plan involved the number nine or its multiples, he got even more cautious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, he'd been shoved onto the stage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Savior is harnessing that power…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Custodian Commander and his warriors felt the Emperor's presence and bowed deeply toward the Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His Majesty the Emperor was the undying lighthouse—never snuffed out in the river of stars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the Hope-Primarch Savior now sought to control that power, to seal the Webway's veiled rifts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such things were well known to these ten-millennia veterans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor had beaten back warp surges time and again in just this way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Palace alone, there were hundreds of thousands of such recorded repulses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without the Emperor's presence, Holy Terra and the entire Sol System would have been drowned in Chaos tides long ago, without the faintest bulwark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now the Savior took up that same labor—worthy of every Imperial warrior's utmost respect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Khan frowned, worry cutting across his features. \"Brother Eden… can he endure the Throne's backlash?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The White Scars Primarch knew too well how terrible the Throne could be; even their Father endured crushing strain whenever it was driven,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>his flesh taking ceaseless harm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Hope-Primarch Savior had pressed the Emperor's clone-body into service to shoulder the backlash, but he was not the Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>None could know if he would succeed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long ago, Khan had offered another plan: the two of them would share the Throne's backlash to dilute the damage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That proposal was refused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the White Scars Primarch's body could not withstand the Throne's intensity; not only the flesh, but the psyche itself would be drained dry, leaving irreversible injury.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ten millennia past, Malcador the Sigillite, the greatest human psyker and Imperial Regent, had served as a living example: taking the Emperor's place upon the Golden Throne, and within days, being scoured of soul and life— reduced to ash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Were the White Scars Primarch to link to the Black Throne, likely the same fate would await him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From every angle, the only one who could take this mission—who could sit the Black Throne—was the Hope-Primarch Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was Mankind's sole hope to bind the Webway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Khan, the Custodians, and the gathered Imperial personnel could only watch as that figure endured the Throne's erosion, waiting in tight-wound silence for the outcome.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hymn to the Savior crested; the High Ecclesiarch and choirs were swept up in a vast, holy emotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feeling ever more deeply the Savior's sacrifice, they wept.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vmmm—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden floated above the Black Throne in a shock-and-awe pose, his whole being turning into a superconducting beacon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All around him, the visible world shredded into golden turbulence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a heartbeat, he felt himself resonate with the cosmos—with the roiling Immaterium—commanding the abyss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps that was why this grand engine bore the name Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I… am He who rules all, the Most High…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought flickered through Eden's mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the pain matched it—limitless pressure descended; every muscle, every cell ripped and reknit, and ripped again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only the Emperor's clone-body was monstrous enough to take it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The deep, solemn hymn rolled on; amid the emotion, the choir's voices trembled and broke with sobs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…Oh come on—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Which absolute melonhead wrote this hymn? To anyone listening, it sounds like I'm about to ascend right now…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden spasmed through the pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once he caught the lyrics' gist, he went even number.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, the hymn made the Savior look epic—but at a moment like this, drenched in such funereal solemnity…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wildly inauspicious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At times like these, all superstition was worth minding—no tripping in a gutter today.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the Emperor got respectful tracks, so would he.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Swap it to something upbeat—Emperor EDM if you must—anything's better than this funeral dirge…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Eden thought, already making a mental note to dock some faith points later.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He tried to ping the relevant crews—but found, to his dismay, every comms relay nearby was toast, and the energy density was so high even sound wouldn't carry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He tried to push a message with psyker power—and even that was torture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His link to the Warp ran too deep right now to thread a clean signal back into realspace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The only way would be to burn a mountain of warp charge and manifest a literal miracle— then deliver the message.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He weighed it, and didn't. Besides wasting power, it would look even more like he was about to ascend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Better to pour every iota of will and watt into driving the Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zzzrraaaap—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under Eden's full control, holy energy gathered and crashed like a world-spanning tide toward the rifts across Commorragh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Immaterium's surges were shoved back, penned beyond the Veil.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"By the Emperor… this wave—landed!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden felt the rifts knitting shut. Region after region's daemon tides slackened; fresh warp pressure ceased to pour in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw the glimmer of success and drew in yet more sanctity to plug the central grand breach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seal that rift, and the job was done.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ecstatic, he tasted the endgame. So many years of setup—mere inches from payoff.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, as he ramped the flow, a wrenching resistance hit—like barbed wire through the soul.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Black Throne spat violent arcs; the entire construct shuddered into chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden himself slammed out of the air, injuries flaring, his body mag-locked to the Throne. The holy radiance winked out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Crap!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had no time to check wounds. One thought pounded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A life's worth of images reeled through his mind—like the lantern-slide before death. A century and change, flashing by.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mercifully, the Throne's monstrous output hadn't torn him apart—but he could no longer keep mending the last rifts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worse—he couldn't get off the Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Double flush, again—what a porcelain catastrophe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sight stunned everyone present; even the Ecclesiarchy's choir caught the pall, their solemn hymn now sounding like a send-off for the Hope-Primarch's ascension.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Your Grace—give me something lively!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At last Eden forced out words via telepathy to the High Ecclesiarch, requesting several return-of-Urth Savior hymns— the ecclesiastic equivalent of spring festival bangers on loop to lift the mood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Anything but more \"devotion and glorious ascension\"—or he might actually ascend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Eden pushed messages to Khan and the rest, steadying nerves, warding off panic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He told them he was fine—that the Black Throne had hit a minor snag, and would resume shortly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Relief moved through the gathered ranks as the Hope-Savior's word arrived. They kept their stations on the platforms below the Throne, though their tension only wound tighter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, Eden was bluffing. He had no idea what was wrong with the Black Throne, nor whether it could be fixed— nor whether he could get free of it again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden sat weakly upon the Black Throne, unaware that his posture mirrored the Emperor upon the Golden Throne—only with a little more flesh on the bones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If this didn't change, that flesh would likely go the way of the Emperor's—down to a skeleton.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eeden and the Archmagos of Black-Mechanica, Kaul, locked eyes as the tech-sage came to inspect the Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence stretched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden finally broke it, staring at those wandering augmetic optics that refused to meet his gaze:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You said there was no chance this plan could fail. So what exactly is happening now?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kaul dipped his head, swallowing a mouthful of non-existent saliva, and stammered:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My Lord Savior, I fear you have unfortunately encountered the 0.000000001% failure vector we accounted for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this is not a technical fault. I strongly suspect the Changer of Ways laid a snare, diverting the plan's destined trajectory.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden ground his teeth. \"Didn't you just say—believe in science?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He almost laughed from sheer anger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A moment ago Kaul had sworn up and down; now that things went sideways, he was babbling about Tzeentch and fate lines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It stank of buck-passing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Archmagos's massive frame edged backward. In a small voice he reminded him:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Correction: 'Believe in science' is a maxim you coined, my lord.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the Urth Mechanicus Conclave, fifteen years ago, July 13th, at precisely 13:13, you said—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fine, fine, I coined it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden cut him off, not in the mood to quibble while his wounds still screamed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Just find a way to restart the Black Throne. If we can't finish the plan, you're staying here until it's fixed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Webby will cut your network access entirely and take over your personal accounts.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Hope-Primarch's words were venom-tipped spikes, driven straight into Kaul's cog-heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His mech-face blanched from iron-black to chalk; his whole frame rattled like a bin of tools, parts clattering off his chassis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was, to put it mildly, terrified.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kaul threw himself into the diagnostics like a machine possessed; his cogitators smoked from overload.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, he isolated the cause of the stall—and proposed a new procedure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Will that… really work?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden exhaled, doubtful. He asked again, more cautiously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kaul no longer dared to bluster; his tone went grave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My Lord Savior, it may be the only way.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It seems… this end can't be avoided.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden shut his eyes in pain and finally made the call.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hard call.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From now on, he'd probably be stuck in the same club—and he didn't mean the fun kind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steeling himself, he let his awareness sink into the Immaterium, reaching for the Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A twinge of guilt pricked him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because he was here to do something shockingly impertinent: ask His Majesty to… also sit the Black Throne for a while.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With his own \"little sun\" exhausted, he simply couldn't keep the engine running. Only the Emperor could shoulder it now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The freshly repaired, Emperor-grade sacred machinery could make it possible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In effect, it meant asking the Emperor to put one backside on two Thrones.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Double porcelain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whichever way you turned it, it reeked of heresy—and filial piety taken to a deranged extreme.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the higher layers, holy power still tangled and wrestled with the unholy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that nowhere of no-time and no-space, the super-dimensional battle had raged who-knew-how-long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor had crossed wills with the Blood God, the Prince of Pleasure, and the Changer of Ways countless times— a war of belief and concepts too blinding to look upon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To witness it was to risk madness, even for psykers and high champions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Flutter, flutter—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tzeentch spread as a galaxy-shrouding black raven, abandoning half its feathers to finally slip the Emperor's bind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Changer bled for it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then a smaller, weaker consciousness poked its head, furtive, into the Emperor's quarter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Hope-Primarch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sudden appearance drew the Emperor's query—an impulse of recognition and question.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wasn't this boy driving the Black Throne? How is he here?!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Your Majesty the Emperor… I've got a little something to ask you…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden's \"little sun\" wavered like a guilty lantern, unsure how to start.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He couldn't very well say: I borked the Black Throne; the Veil rift won't mend; could you please sit on the black toilet for me?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And even that wasn't guaranteed—risk was sky-high.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across the field, Tzeentch felt a cold clatter in its many hearts at the Savior's arrival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A very bad feeling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Black Throne isn't about me, the Changer thought. To avoid entanglement with that jinxed Hope-Primarch, I withdrew all my Throne-plots already. I didn't touch it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It had only come to spectate the brawl of the gods—soaking in a little chaos and change.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who could have guessed a casual look-in would end with a cursed beating?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The moment the Changer hesitated over flight, the Hope-Primarch's first sentence nearly stopped its hearts:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I bring unfortunate news.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Due to the Changer of Ways' treachery, the Black Throne's ignition failed. Fortunately—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't finish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor's wrath erupted like a volcano.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fury at its zenith.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Gaa!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tzeentch shrieked and bolted—too late.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor, a storm of golden fire, crashed over the Changer. The other two Dark Gods yielded the lane.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had never seen the Cursed One this enraged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If before he'd drawn a knife, now he'd yanked a grenade—a trade-blood for blood kind of fight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who'd stand in the way of that?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No! I never meddled with the Savior's fate—this was an unpredictable eddy in the cosmic whirlpool!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tzeentch's shadow thrashed, having no stomach for a stand-up fight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In all its endless life, rarely had it felt this wronged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor didn't listen. He simply poured on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The other two powers blanched at the spectacle and kept to safe remove.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They wanted to pile on, perhaps—but the risk calculus was murky; a single misstep would hand the advantage to rivals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In high-dimensional war, timing is a flicker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While they hesitated, the Changer turned to roast fowl, escaping to the Crystal Labyrinth at the cost of two jet-black wings left behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its essence was savaged—directly diminished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worse, by more than tenfold compared to the Blood God's earlier deficit when he spam-funded his champion Ka'Bandha.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Years of hoarded change-power—down the drain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the Changer's state, the Blood God and the Prince of Pleasure dared not drift closer to the Cursed One.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor still burned with wrath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd paid dearly, too— but it was worth it. A demonstration required a target a touch less iron-hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A warning so the others dared not twitch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Savior's arrival was simply a pretext.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor was mighty—but not cocksure enough to face all the Dark Gods at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For millennia he had played upon their suspicion and fear, paying beyond the sustainable price to maintain the visage of the undefeatable—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>cultivating the aura of a dark war-king who would go for your throat every time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A deterrent to the pantheon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a private mental sanctum, the Emperor took human form again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked upon the Savior with gentle eyes and a faint smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This outcome had lain within his estimates.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truth be told, he had long been ready to give all for Humanity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Old man…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden gazed upon the golden frame—the lord of mankind—and felt his heart sink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once more, the Emperor would bear greater pain, for mankind's sake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before he could speak, Eden felt the change.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Emperor's vast soul began channeling, via the sacred machinery, into the clone-body—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>gradually edging Eden's awareness out and taking his place upon the Throne, to endure its corrosion, and stride toward an unknown fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beside the Black Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden woke in his own Primarch flesh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked at the clone-body reviving upon the Throne, and his feelings knotted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This time, we have to succeed. Khan and I are still waiting to go get pampered with you, Your Majesty…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\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>",2647,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.268Z",1,"novelbin.me","c00c3150ee4ff0b54501a21b3a18b2741100504d6e56388787b5933dc6bd2093","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-524","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-522",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]