[{"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-544":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},1681414,2147,"Chapter 544 545 — The Savior: Tragic… Hang in There, Abaddon!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-544",544,"\u003Cp>>>\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[One Piece: Since I Can't Be A Celestial Dragon, Then A Villain It Is!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Shokugeki: Starting With The Dark Cooking Society Legacy]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Yu-Gi-Oh!: Undefeated and Ultra-Meta!]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>>>\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Most Power Stones = 1 Point]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Most Reviews = 1 Point]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Most Votes On Poll = 1 Point]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>===========\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This offensive will be a Black Crusade for the ages—unprecedented, on a brand-new line of advance!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon spoke with hungry ambition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before him stood his inner circle: the Chaos Seer Moriana, the abominable tech-brute Valicar Hane, and four handpicked Chosen—all elite, all expectant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Despoiler, Warmaster of Chaos, had quietly summoned his strongest to set the Fifteenth Black Crusade in motion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time he would not batter himself senseless against Cadia and the Nachmund Gauntlet as he had a dozen times before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Those paths might point straight at the Imperium's heart, but they were encrusted with auspex chains, Fortress Worlds, and massed garrisons—an assault course of pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon, at last, had learned the lesson: ramming the same wall thirteen times was… a bit stubborn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would change the game—strike hidden, strike fast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the past, the Black Legion lacked the means. But now he had Blackstone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With Blackstone-laced Arks of Omen, his hosts could carve short, savage roads through the roil of the Great Rift—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—appearing deep in Imperial sub-sectors before any alarm could properly ring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Warmaster, this will be a campaign for the annals,\" Valicar Hane's mech-tendrils writhed, his voice thick with glee. \"The Imperium will taste a hurt it cannot forget. The galaxy will wail beneath your heel.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes. We will win—and keep winning. Battle after battle,\" Abaddon answered, eyes cold and lucid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had found clarity: he didn't need to hold everything he hit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He only needed to break it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Arks' reach and speed would let him bypass bastions, sear one system after the next, and rip out each target's most precious cores.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>War feeding war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That upstart Savior thought he could reform, rebuild, and rally the Imperium?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the Black Legion would light fires everywhere, rally every stripe of Chaos to widen the raiding net—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—until the Savior could only sprint between crises, exhausted and late.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Brothers, this will be a long, glorious war. When the warp's powers see our tally, they'll flock to our banners…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon gazed toward the roaring forges.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ark after Ark—vast void-beasts plated in Blackstone—crawled toward completion. Heat rippled in his chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"When the Savior takes the throne, his 'new' Imperium will greet only war and ruin. He will watch it happen—and be powerless to stop it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the logic of it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Destruction is cheaper than creation. Under Ark-borne blitz, the Imperium would bleed and keep bleeding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the Emperor returned would struggle to stem it—especially if Chaos acted in concert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the prey grew weak enough, Abaddon would sail for Holy Terra and seize the heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Commorragh's webway nexus?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That carefully sculpted jewel of a city would become the Warmaster's sweetest prize.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Soon—within half a Terran year—the Arks will fly, and the Fifteenth Black Crusade will rise,\" he murmured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Half a year was a blink to the warp-touched—yet to Abaddon it crawled. He wanted the victory in his hands. He wanted to see the Savior's fury curdle into helplessness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Perhaps I should… call a few allies I can actually trust.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought had barely formed when—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hummm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Witch-light tore a slit in the air. An invitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He accepted. Blood-red radiance gathered into a half-torso holo: Huron Blackheart, Tyrant-King of the Red Corsairs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"An ally arrives,\" Abaddon thought, smiling despite himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Red Corsairs were the strongest Astartes renegades besides the Black Legion itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opened his mouth—but Huron spoke first, and not politely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Abaddon. Looking well.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blackheart's voice was cold and curved. \"Your recent raids seem to have perked you up. Congratulations.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What do you want,\" Abaddon said flatly, smile gone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Reckoning. Your warriors pillaged my demesne. I require an account—and I will have one.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Are you… questioning me, Huron?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A short, contemptuous breath served as answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Warmaster explained himself to no one. If the Black Legion had stripped a Corsair world—so be it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, the Legion had been… exuberant in its resource hunts. But a Despoiler does not apologize to a pirate-lord.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You heard me. Black Legion blades fell on my holdings. You think I'll swallow that in silence?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huron's anger bled through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I will compensate you—with an opportunity beyond price,\" Abaddon replied, making the effort to sound gracious. \"Join the Fifteenth Black Crusade under the Black Legion's aegis—an unprecedented great harvest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You'll stand in the front rank. First cut of the spoils.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What you take will more than pay every loss—and then some.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stared through the red haze, pressure rising in the chamber. \"You won't want to miss this, Huron.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Honey and threat. The old recipe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon judged it fair. The Corsairs weren't in a position to haggle with the Black Legion anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"…I will consider it,\" Huron bowed his head a fraction under the weight of the Warmaster's will. \"You will have my answer when I am satisfied.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon laughed, kinglike. \"My decks are open. Choose wisely.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huron ended the link with the slightest of nods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Abaddon felt buoyant. With the Red Corsairs aboard, the tally would be richer still.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The feeling lasted days.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the report struck like a thunderhammer: a Black Legion fleet, ambushed en route home; a hold full of Blackstone—gone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The audacity!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rage shook him. It had been a long time since anyone dared rob his ships—let alone near the Eye of Terror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naked provocation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But when he demanded the raiders' name, his eyes went wide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Say that again. Who raided us?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The adjutant swallowed. \"Warmaster… the attackers claimed to be acting—by order of the Despoiler. They called themselves your host.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Despoiler?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a heartbeat even Abaddon blinked. He'd… robbed himself? Impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But then he remembered the galaxy's odd new currents—and Blackheart's tone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A prickling foreboding crawled up his spine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Surely the Fifteenth would still run clean—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He drew in a hard breath and turned to the black-clad prophet with the ebon staff.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Moriana. I need your sight.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Danger was moving. He wanted a foretell, a face to the threat—contingencies primed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn't get it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before any prophecy resolved, more strike-reports battered Savagar—one wave, then another.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Eye seethed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Earlier.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outer Eye of Terror, Blackstone Fortress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a vaulted hall, Blackheart cut the link and faced his gathered captains.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You all saw it. Abaddon the High—and blind.\" His voice carried. \"He plunders our worlds, murders our crews, and tosses us a 'place' as if charity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Can you stomach that?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Flame flickered in their eyes. To the Corsairs, Abaddon's posture was an insult cut to the bone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I will not accept it,\" Huron pressed, voice sharpening. \"We strike back. We make the Black Legion pay. We are not cattle to be culled.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truth be told, he knew there was trickery in the raid that sparked this feud—had even steered the talk with Abaddon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It didn't matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He needed a casus belli.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blackheart dropped the last of his pretense. He had always wanted the Warmaster's mantle—wanted to etch his saga across the Eye.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The window would be brief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Black Legion had new engines and arts and was surging. If he didn't rip those forges bare now, he might never get them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the rule of the Eye—Chaos eats Chaos. No one abides as second long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Show weakness and the pack descends.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huron felt the turn of the galaxy's wheel and knew this was it. He would not miss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Armies are threading into the Eye from half the map,\" he told his captains. \"The Black Legion will show a fatal seam. We will harvest it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And grow.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He believed—utterly—that he could do what Abaddon had not. The Despoiler had needed millennia to claw back to the Sons of Horus' former height.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huron had done his rise in three or four centuries.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the Eye still flocked to the other man's banner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Time to correct that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Even so, we'll never crack Savagar fast enough alone. We need more blades. More teeth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We must strip their vaults and war-engines before they can drag in field armies from other wars.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had made arrangements.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under the shadow of a Blackstone Fortress, Red Corsair spear-fleets edged inward toward Savagar, waiting for the spark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Sigh. Must you engineers always ask for more Blackstone?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Savior's Sanctum, Office of State.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden frowned at the sweating works commissioner and tapped the desk, displeased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is a major miss. You should have found it in planning—not bring it to me now.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The official ducked his head and took the scolding without a syllable of excuse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The \"miss\" was simple: the Holy energies bleeding off the Black Throne had warped the webway sheathing. They needed more Blackstone to stabilize it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one had seen it until the first hub-port core was rising.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the first project of its kind; the simulations hadn't captured the hidden shift. Even the Archmagos and the Machine-Goddess herself had signed the previous numbers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In other words—force majeure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the result was a yawning material gap. Dawnlight City's schedules were blown open. They needed more Blackstone—yesterday.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And where to find it on short notice? He couldn't just rob Vigilus blind, could he?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tempting—he'd eyed those stockpiles for months.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Vigilus was a blender: to take it, he needed a continental-scale army and the will to eat everyone else's counter-punch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Any would-be ruler of Vigilus becomes everyone's target.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was why neither Black Legion nor Imperium had ever planted their flag there for good.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A slow campaign—or nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if he could tank the alliances that would dog-pile him, stripping his own borders of troops would hollow out Dawnlight and all his Protectorates.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And no one knew how long Vigilus would take to crack. Time he didn't have.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Eden weighed the world—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A ping. A message. He read—and grinned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Well now. Abaddon hoarded a mountain of Blackstone—and looks like a coalition just jumped him?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The beating was expected; Eden had redirected plenty of hate the Despoiler's way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the scale—that the man had smuggled that much off Vigilus under everyone's nose—was a surprise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the source… Red Corsairs?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The signal was layered, bounced, masked. The Machine-Goddess still traced it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blackheart's angle? Eden thought. \"The Tyrant doubts he can finish this alone—wants me in the scrum?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden actually feared Blackheart more than Abaddon. The rogue lord had brains and nerve; he'd once played Roboute Guilliman like a harp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One does not blunder where that man lays snares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If it was a trap, that was trouble—likely worse trouble waiting behind it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And trap it was—partly. Alongside his die-hard allies, Huron had tipped off the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of all powers, only Eden could flash-mobilize and reach the Eye in time to help strip the Black Legion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Time was short; the Savior couldn't bring too much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perfect. The Corsairs would keep their upper hand—and if things broke perfectly, they might even pivot, ambush, and crush the Savior's expedition after the plunder…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…for an encore of glory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Whatever. We go see it ourselves.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden slapped the desk. \"All Resource-Collection battlegroups currently in Dawnlight—marshal! Shortest webway and warp threads to the Eye of Terror. Move!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another day, he might have hesitated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Massing that much force had risks; borders thin, opportunities missed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he'd prepped this raid for months, tuning every local defense to carry the load.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Minimum exposure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the raiding host was fresh off a run—ships topped, magazines full, crews itching. They could launch at once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A gift from the stars. The Despoiler was finally dropping gold again—and there was enough Blackstone out there to feed Dawnlight's hunger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could he not go?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He'd shorn Abaddon often enough that the Legion's vaults now felt… provisionally his.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Missing this would hurt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worth the gamble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Though if he's stacked that much Blackstone… Abaddon must be cooking something big,\" Eden mused—then chuckled. \"I tossed a net at random and it's spitting treasure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What luck.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was he lucky—or was Abaddon cursed? Given fourteen failed Black Crusades in a row…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let's just say Tzeentch's dice hated the man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the stakes were high, Eden would lead from the front.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without a Primarch on deck, you couldn't dance with a Warmaster, a Tyrant-King, and every other monster sniffing blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He donned dark-gold armor in the armory. As he sealed the last clasp, the Khan came pounding in—answering the call.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They would ride together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Brother Eden!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the two Primarchs strode from the Sanctum toward the docks, Roboute Guilliman arrived in full panoply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted in. To stand with his brothers, blade to blade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Roboute…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden breathed out, clapped a gauntlet on Guilliman's shoulder. \"Dawnlight's defense is paramount. We need a Primarch here. I'm entrusting that to you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He held the Ultramarine's gaze—weight of duty in his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Khan nodded, a touch dry. \"Two of us is plenty. Stay here. Just in case someone gets clever.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truth? Dawnlight was stuffed with Salvation, Ultramar, and White Scars brigades—and the Emperor himself on the throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nothing was going to happen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Eden still kept Roboute home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a strike-and-scoop. Speed mattered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And—well—Roboute had a way of… jinxing long trips. Warp squalls, ambushes, engine blackouts—Eden preferred not to test the pattern today.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I'll hold here,\" Guilliman said at last, smiling. \"Guard Dawnlight.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He watched his brothers go.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And if he felt a small, quiet ache—well, being left behind by your brothers is a kind of distance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, Eden's fleet cleared dock and dove into the webway—gone like a knife-point into cloth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eye of Terror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dreamweaver, command bridge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With the armada burning hard, Eden watched warp-light boil beyond the armor-glass and frowned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hang in there, Abaddon. I'm coming fast!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fresh reports rolled in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Savagar was a cauldron. The Warmaster was being dog-piled by Chaos warbands, Orks, Necrons, Aeldari, beastmen, and—Emperor save him—a stray Tyranid splinter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even a daemon tide's shadow stretched across the brawl. No one had expected this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe Eden had pulled the hate lever a little too hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He only hoped Abaddon could hold a little longer—long enough for him to arrive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Because all of that is my Blackstone…\"\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>",2386,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.268Z",1,"novelbin.me","9ed9b9550990dda1cec0f95d4490b6fc1d0ed1f2e02a6cbefe57df326b35029e","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-545","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-543",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]