[{"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-543":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},1681413,2147,"Chapter 543 544 — Abaddon: Tremble, for the Fifteenth Black Crusade Begins!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-543",543,"\u003Cp>By now, the old Blackstone web-routes had reached—and strip-mined—almost every civilized world they could touch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>New veins of wealth were getting hard to pry loose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If there had been any other way, Eden would never have reached for so crude a lever as this so-called \"resource collection task force\" that stirs up brush-fire wars.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, it was a raiding host—Space Marines, the Terror Legion, the Steeljaw Ork Empire's hired brutes, and more besides.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only elites were invited; only specialists in combined-arms deception made the cut.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It might be the largest ad-hoc pirate armada in galactic history.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For Humanity's future, I'll have to make the xenos and heretics of the Milky Way suffer a little,\" Eden decided.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These weren't campaign-level offensives. The plan was to pick soft targets, or else hit places where the enemy's defenses were thinnest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The goal was rare materials. The doctrine was smash-and-grab, then vanish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thanks to the Spirit-Net's vast intelligence lattice and computing power, each raiding column had its targets pre-selected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The harvest began.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They would feint to draw away local battlegroups, then strike from an unexpected vector. Anything that took too long or bit too hard would be skipped without hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ordinarily, burning this much fuel and munitions on smash-and-grabs is bad business.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Savior had war-power and shells to spare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the team brought home the right resources and bought time, the price was acceptable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And since the whole enterprise was sweeping and, frankly, shameless, they did not paint it with the Savior's sigil. No reason to soak up needless hate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They raided in the Despoiler's name instead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Only our brother Abaddon can carry the blame for a spree this large. Has nothing to do with me,\" Eden mused, flipping through the op orders with a pleased nod.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, this raid would breed enmities with hundreds of sectors and factions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most of those renegades, xenos, or Chaos warbands couldn't touch him—but if they started raiding his borders every other week, it would still be annoying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So the Resource-Collection Marines had blacked out their armor; even their transports and ships gleamed the same void-dark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They carried Despoiler tokens and munitions as planted \"proof.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Terror Legion would raid under the Despoiler banner as well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Plenty of Terror Legionnaires had served the Black Legion and Abaddon before pledging to the Prince of Excess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Going back to their \"old uniform\" for a while was trivial.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the latest from Intelligence said—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon had put a few real wins on the board lately. Even the Aeldari had bled to him; his hauls were not small. He was swaggering again, plotting something grand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Eden was going to pillage anyway, why not dump trouble in the lap of that top-knotted, pointy-skulled blowhard—keep him busy and far from the Imperium?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Can't have him derailing construction schedules.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short: the Despoiler did it. If anyone wants revenge, go ring Abaddon's doorbell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Galaxy, an unnamed system.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Boom—boom—boom—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Great lances and macro-batteries stitched fire through the void.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two Ork armadas had fought their way through a knot of warp-riptides and were now brawling at knuckle-range—so close that stray boyz drifted everywhere in the black.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some greenskins, riding jump-jets or the recoil of their guns, launched like jagged meteors to head-butt the enemy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others weren't so lucky—hauled into engine intakes or spun into the eddies, gone without a trace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before long—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Steeljaw Ork fleet, devotees of \"Rogga,\" couldn't hold the line. After eating one brutal volley, they broke off, diving into the currents and vanishing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"WAAAGH—!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Edork's da strongest of all Orks! He'll clobber any git what ain't lookin'!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Warboss Skinscrappa howled his triumph.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This had been a war of faith. The invaders—heretical greenskins who worshiped Gork—had been routed. They slunk away, beaten.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Victorious, Skinscrappa's horde bellowed and swelled—bodies and biceps bulking under the high of a win.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their faith in Edork only grew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Boasting and bashing their chests, they headed home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Navigation? Who needs it. They followed gut and \"'s gotta be dis way,\" and somehow made it back to their turf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A dull iron-lead world, capped by a colossal Ork fort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the realm of the Red Freaks, now a green paradise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Waa—where'd me fort go?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In low orbit—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Warboss Skinscrappa opened his maw to declare victory and froze, staring at the world below.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So did his Big Mek adviser and the clan's warbosses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every Ork went slack-jawed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ground was bare. The bastion was missing. Smoke still curled from raw dirt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They'd been robbed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So neatly, so brazenly robbed that not only had the fort been stripped—so had the foundations. The surface was pocked by giant pits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bites of mega-excavators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden's Resource-Collection host had drawn away the world's main horde, then hit the surface like a hammer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inquisitorial records from millennia past hinted the planet held an active, self-healing metal—back when xenos had ruled it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They smashed what garrison remained, then dug until the living seams ran dry—loading ore, plating, and bodies both—then jumped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Skinscrappa limped home, all he found was a honeycomb of holes. His fort and half his population were gone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"WAAAGH!!!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Who nicked me stuff—dug up me land—SKINSCRAPPA'S GONNA PEEL 'EM!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raged, vowing to find the thieves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Boss, look—uh… there.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Big Mek Brainy-Git swallowed hard and pointed at the ground, terrified the boss might eat him in a rage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Skinscrappa followed the Mek's finger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There, built from fort plates, rose a sigil hundreds of meters tall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An eye at its heart, encircled by barbed arrows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Eye of Horus—favorite badge of the Warmaster of Chaos, Abaddon the Despoiler, and his Black Legion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Find 'em… and get ME REVENGE!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Skinscrappa didn't know the Eye's pedigree. He didn't care. It was the enemy's calling card—an insult he could smell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He howled the Waaagh!, mustered the fleet, and set off on a vengeance crusade to hunt whoever flew that mark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The armada plunged into a random warp reach and roared away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Galaxy, a Tomb World.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The buried pyramids had been pried open and toppled, ancient energy veins exposed, the surface littered with metal wreckage—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some of it tangled with hulks of Chaos Titans; all of it was the tomb-guard's corpses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Phalanxes of living metal had been cut down by raider science and speed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The vaults were cracked; rare alloys and Blackstone were stripped; even more weapons—and the bodies of tomb-guardians—were hauled off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Savages! Robbers! To despoil the treasures of the Undying!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Phaeron of the Tavoh Dynasty emergency-booted from torpor, took in the gutted complex, and seethed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A living metal monarch, sapphire-hued and wreathed in concentric filigree, a gem-crowned helm upon his head. A mantle of metal behind him shimmered red.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He swore a cruel reprisal. Such vermin merited no mercy—only annihilation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Silent King… your most loyal vassal wakes. Tavoh will chase your vision of glory for all the long-dead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"But first—one query. Have you seen this mark?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He reached the Silent King upon a private band, absorbed the galaxy's latest, and sent an image of the raiders' sign.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>An eye, stinking of warp-taint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the King's reply, the Phaeron found his target—Abaddon. The Black Legion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pirates rooted in the great warp storm, strong and shameless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't know why they'd expended so much to rip only the outer vaults.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It didn't matter. He would repay them in kind—by smashing their foundries and burning their worlds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hummm—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A crescent Tombship rose from mountain roots, boulders and magma pluming as it clawed for the stars. Behind it, a flood of living-metal warships.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Tomb World was fully awake, its heart alight with hate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its wrath fell upon the so-called Black Legion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Maelstrom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Red Corsairs domain, Gholis Sub-sector.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huron Blackheart, the Tyrant of Badab reborn, crushed an Eye of Horus token in his red bionic claw. Flames licked the shards to slag.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked down at Xhovet, his plundered holding, and bared his teeth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The vaults had been ransacked; a trove of rarest stock was gone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Lord Huron, without that shipment we must push back the war-forge bastion again.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Corsairs' Furnace-master, Alchemist Valtes, seethed. The raid had gutted his schedule.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Abaddon does keep me entertained, doesn't he…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blackheart spoke the Warmaster's name with a faint, ugly amusement. He feared no one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had bled the Imperium at Badab, kidnapped the Great Khan Jubal Khan, even ambushed and briefly bagged Roboute Guilliman on his road to Terra—none of it beyond his reach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"How many times is this now?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Abaddon and his Black Legion—do they really think I won't answer?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Black Legion's hunger had grown these last years. They'd crossed blades with the Corsairs more than once, and skimmed off takes Huron had marked as his.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd stomached those losses; a war would only fatten other enemies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this time, Black Legionnaires had dared hit a Corsair world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unforgivable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"They will pay, with no bargaining,\" Blackheart judged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And… Abaddon, my lord?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Valtes ventured, nervous despite himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Warmaster's terror was legend; challenging him made any sane man sweat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blackheart's stare went iron-cold. \"Are you afraid of him—or do you think I am?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His voice went hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ten thousand years ago I led scraps and survivors out of the flames of Badab half-dead—and within decades built a host that can crush any sector.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes, Abaddon fields a might that draws worship. But I forged my state in less than a century; he's taken a hundred times as long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"He's 'won' and 'won'—and failed, and failed, and failed. I think it's near time the Warmaster retired.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Valtes bowed his head. \"As you say. We should not yield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"But… perhaps we should confirm our culprit. There could be… some mistake.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That isn't your worry,\" Huron smiled thinly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Red Corsairs need a victory—even over the Black Legion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"A Warmaster has died before. Another could follow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Start with their forges. Lots worth stealing in those. We won't miss this window.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truth? Blackheart had coveted Black Legion coffers for years. Abaddon's name no longer cast a long enough shadow to keep those vaults safe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden's raiders kicked up commotion across the galaxy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They brought home ton upon ton of materials needed for building the webway—shipped by convoy to Dawn City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For now, the haul patched a good slice of the shortfall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A major win.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Abaddon's fame is really popping off. Wonder if he's pleased,\" Eden murmured, scrolling the fresh briefs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd sent out a storm of black-armored cutthroats in the Despoiler's name; the galaxy was screaming \"Abaddon\" from one end to the other.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On second thought… maybe that was a little dumb. The bastard thrived on reputation; had Eden just fed him?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Eh. Consider it mutually beneficial.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden shrugged and shut the slate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was a businessman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Abaddon was busy soaking up the hate meant for Eden, he could have a few bragging rights. As long as he didn't blunder in and derail schedules.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let him string losses a little longer—he wouldn't have much to swing anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden had no time to gawk at the Eye of Terror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He happily counted crates and poured everything back into construction and cashflow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only a true, theater-wide war would justify taking his eye off the work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Deep within the Eye of Terror, Savagar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A dust-shrouded world hung with foundry-platforms and star-forts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Black Legion's baseworlds were knitting back together. Here and there you could see the grain of Blackstone in their works.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In recent years, Abaddon the Despoiler had stripped the Vigilance marches of yet more Blackstone and begun assembling novel engines of war—Arks of Omen, birthed from Vashtorr the Arkifane's techno-daemon rites and bound to Blackstone's awful geometries.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the gantries, Ark after Ark neared completion—gun-towers and keel-veins humming with Blackstone's cold patterning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When these behemoths stirred, terror would sweep the galaxy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Ah. I hear them—the voices of the galaxy and the Sea of Souls—chanting the Despoiler's name.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon stood in barbed ebony, the Talon of Horus weeping thicker warp-ichor than ever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He felt his infamy rising and was content.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the throne-port he looked out on realm and legion. More raiding flotillas were returning with the ores of war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Black Legion accelerated—recovering, hardening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enough to make any scoffer choke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Savior… we'll meet soon. I hope you won't regret all you've done to the Warmaster of Chaos.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He remembered too well: the Savior had nearly bankrupted him; scavengers had clung to the Legion's ribs; discipline had rotted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had clawed it back—got his house in order.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yes—he'd signed more pacts with the Dark Gods, siphoning strength, materiel, and artifice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among his prizes: the Arkifane Vashtorr's troves—deep workings of the Arks of Omen—and, above all, Blackstone lore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blackstone—greatest war-tech of the age. Weapons, fortresses, ships that bite both realspace and the Immaterium with equal hunger—beyond anything the Imperium's clanking relic-tech could rival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That—this—was the future: the key to dominion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I am not the man I was…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He lifted the Talon. Faces writhed across it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"When our new arms are in the field, the galaxy will shudder. The Imperium's armies cannot stand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And the master of such an army… is Humanity's true savior.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had never abandoned the Warmaster's dream—the Black Legion's endgame.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To become Lord of the Imperium. The new Emperor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Humanity faced too many dooms. Only the strongest could bear the mandate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And that is I—Abaddon!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Tremble, Imperium—the Fifteenth Black Crusade is nigh!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Despoiler's eyes burned with bottomless ambition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There would be one chance to \"save\" mankind—and he would take it, even if the Imperium had to burn again.\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>",2271,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.268Z",1,"novelbin.me","0931fd3422f6892be7d893f93ce4f0be1a2e474bba29fdd95107299027d2e7bb","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-544","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-542",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]