[{"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-590":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},1681360,2147,"Chapter 590 - 591 — Lift-Off: The Chaos Realms Have Intense Zero-G!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-590",590,"\u003Cp>The Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The forests of Caliban.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gouges the size of siege claws scarred the mossy ground while dreadful roars rolled one after another from deep within the woods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were Caliban’s unique Chaos-tainted fauna—the Great Beasts. An adult Great Beast could tear power-armor like cloth and shred a heavy tank to scrap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These abominable forest monsters had once brought endless calamity upon the people of Caliban.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until the day a Primarch came. A man called the Lion led the knightly orders and purged the Great Beasts from the face of the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet in this Caliban that existed within the Warp, the Great Beasts still prowled—proof that this place was anchored to some era before the Lion’s cull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Execute Terminal Protocol. Exterminate.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A flat electronic voice suddenly rang out, so cold and affectless it chilled the marrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came the flare of lances and a thunder of detonations. The Great Beasts were scythed down under lethal fire; their dying keens were drowned as the forest went up in roaring flame.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Knights, stay on me!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A towering, imperious figure strode out of the firelight. Brand-new plates of deep green armor threw back the blaze; a crimson cloak snapped and streamed in heat-born winds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The weathered face and the flecks of silver in his beard only made his presence more commanding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was the First Primarch—the Lion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once more fully war-armed and every inch a king, the slump that had dogged him was gone without a trace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind the Lion followed Zahariel and several high-ranking Astartes—battle-captains among them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for the mortal knights, they had already been safely consigned to gene-augmentation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his right as gene-sire, he had recalled his sons, mustering armies and fleets about Vostonia and then taking the forests of Caliban as a path into new regions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More frightening still, a host of cold red optics flared to life behind the force.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rank upon rank of ancient man-shaped machines walked on, raking the distance with unending fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every lance of searing beam or armor-piercing shot erased a Great Beast. Almost nothing missed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Relics of the Dark Age of Technology, their creations of forbidden science casually butchered foes who had once taxed Calibanite knights to their limits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Using his authority, the Lion had unlocked black-vault legacies from a pre-Imperial arkshelf: a class of autonomous war-robots called \"Extinction Automata.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once they had possessed true minds and were known as the Men of Iron—machines that had nearly annihilated mankind at its zenith.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"By the Emperor... what abominable engines of murder...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zahariel stared at those malevolent automatons, a tremor running through him as he watched a taloned manipulator ram through a Great Beast’s skull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dying monster swatted the automaton with all its massive strength—only for the blow to glance away without so much as a scratch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A veteran of millennia, he realized he would struggle to destroy even a single Extinction Automaton—and that their counter-assault would be fatal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had heard the nightmare-tales: from the Old Night and the Unification Wars’ terror slaughters to the ruin loosed after the Lion deployed Extinction Automata.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All of it inspired fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During the Great Crusade, Extinction Automata had been unleashed against the most recalcitrant xenos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once released, they became storms of blades, geysers of star-hot flame, and bursts of hard radiation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Automata mounted war-talons, phosphor grenade launchers, neuro-induction shatterguns, atomic pulse cannons, heavy particle-wave projectors—ancient interdicted weaponry of obscene lethality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only the Automatons themselves could wield such relics to their full; they brought fires more savage than the foe’s and smeared radiation across entire battlefields.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cunning by nature and nursing a genocidal hatred for organic life, they knew neither mercy nor restraint. The only leash was a \"kill-switch.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If they slipped the leash, their internal melta charges would atomize their cores.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so, these venomous machines remained among the Imperium’s most fearsome taboo weapons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Zahariel’s imagination, a single Extinction Automaton was horror enough; an entire formation was a storm of ending—capable of razing a world in hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They could scour planets with orbital grids too hardened for assault and too well-screened for Cyclonic Torpedoes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During the Horus Heresy, the First Legion had unloosed a batch of Extinction Automata upon the traitor Forge World of Galatea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They scoured that world with absolute slaughter. Machine-fortresses, living things—everything perished. Only the void-docked shipyards remained intact.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How terrifying was that?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet, seeing the Automata in the metal, he realized he had still underestimated them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were worse than the stories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion’s son suddenly remembered another legend:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During a war of the Second Imperium—Imperium Secundus—the Lion had unleashed high-order Extinction Automata to hunt another Primarch: Konrad Curze, the Night Haunter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just seven high-order Automata had pinned the Night Haunter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was a Primarch who had cast the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar into turmoil by will alone—yet he was crushed beneath abominable machines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was nowhere to hide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It proved the Automata’s terror beyond doubt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zahariel looked back at the marching cohorts, swallowed, and felt his mouth go dry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time the Lion had all but emptied the vaults—one hundred high-order models, and many more of the standard patterns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A legion of wicked machines—what power could stand against that?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the Emperor’s favor toward the Lion: the gift of a proscribed armory capable of breaking Primarchs and tearing down any wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was also the Lion’s trump against all the foes of man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a pity that, during the Heresy, the Lion had been too far from Holy Terra—and the affairs of the Second Imperium had cost precious time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had he been able to loose these machines and race for Terra, perhaps the Imperium’s ending would have been written differently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Zahariel—this time we will not fail. The Imperium will be saved by our hand, and tragedy will not repeat.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As if hearing his blood’s thought, the Lion’s deep voice was iron-certain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In accepting his nature, he had grown more keen—able to read much from the twitch of a face and the flicker of an emotion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once, he had been too restrained to unleash such ruinous weapons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this was no longer the Great Crusade’s first golden noon. It was the black midnight ten thousand years on, and the Imperium tottered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had to use every tool and any power to break the enemies of man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"When the Savior sees this forbidden strength, he will be shocked—and awed.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion’s mouth curled, unbidden.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before, he’d had almost nothing; his poise and his honor had taken beating after beating under the Savior’s relentless blows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps this time he could claw a little honor back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would lead the Automata ahead to the Vostonia Pan-Sector and hold the line there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time the Savior arrived, the crisis at that industrial nexus might already be resolved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With this fist at his back, he could speak to the Savior—and to that Emperor of the Imperium—as an equal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the Lion had promised to aid the Savior, a leader’s pride would not let him be shuffled at another’s whim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had his own designs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the Lion weighed how to shape his rapport with the Savior and his brother Primarch, the forest began to shake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tremor wasn’t in the soil—it set the entire woodland quivering under some unknown pressure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Weightlessness crept in at the edges of sensation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Terminal systems flag a high-risk mass. Alert—alert...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In an instant, the Automata kicked to high alert, ready to vomit annihilating fire. Their refraction-field shields howled up to full.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"All units—stand to!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Is it an earthquake? This forest can suffer tectonic collapse?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion and his knights braced against the violent lurching, ready to meet whatever came. In the Warp, danger was a thousand times more likely than in the galaxy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worse, there was almost nowhere to fall back to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"W-what... is that?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A son of the Lion pointed and yelled toward the chaotic Warp beyond the trees.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>THRUM-THRUM-THRUM-THRUM-THRUM!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before anyone could truly react, a gigantic, half-transparent mechanical hull tore through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It skimmed the forest’s rim, ripping open the surrounding space and the woodland’s very ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like a tunnel-borer chewing a conduit underground—only the \"ground\" here was the seething Warp itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A vast gilded half-figure—some holy colossus—loomed along the hull, striding parallel to the Lion’s host like a titan stomping past, staggering the heart with sheer spectacle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>???\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion stared at the hundred-meter gilded beefcake idol bolted to the machine’s prow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He went a little numb.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That sky-pointing, muscle-popping half-statue. That brazen pose. That eternal riot of luxurious, domineering paint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And that skyscraping drill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Familiar. Too familiar. The damned thing was haunting him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Around him, the sons of the Lion cried out:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"By the Emperor—what manner of being is that...?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The Savior! That’s the Hope Primarch—the Savior!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If you were trudging through the Warp’s Caliban forest and that flamboyant engine with that all-too-familiar figure suddenly blasted by, you’d lose composure too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion’s eye twitched. He drew a long breath and did his best to keep his bearing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course it was the Savior. Why was that man everywhere?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d even forced his way into the Warp—what in the throne’s name was that vessel?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Questions piled up like wreckage in his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More deflating by far—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Savior had once again crushed his presence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even here in the Warp, the other man managed to make the ground shudder and gravity die, stamping an unrivaled presence on reality itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ruckus would rouse half the profane denizens of this realm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was that what they called \"talent\"...?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that moment the Lion felt as though the Savior were an omnipresent nightmare, forever rolling over him in the most intimidating, most flamboyant, most impossible way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was reduced to a foil.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Truth be told, the Lion was getting jealous. Presence and intimidation were what every warsmith and warlord pursued with all their soul.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why else would high nobles armor themselves in grotesque, towering war-plate, drape themselves in relics and skulls, paint their panoply to command the eye, and trail couture capes?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the eighth Primarch, Konrad Curze, master of shadows, wore batlike horrors on his plate and a cloak of arterial red—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All to crush a foe in the first instant of revelation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only overwhelming presence could seize every gaze on arrival, wring command from a crowd, overturn battles, and paralyze those who looked upon you.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through all history, the most awe-inspiring presence in the Imperium was the Gilded Colossus, Lord of Humanity—the Emperor of Mankind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gold war-plate, holy and terrible claws, relics and splendor, a cloak like a comet’s tail—his image radiated terror and majesty, fused to a soul that could bear it, into a style of force no one could ignore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One glimpse and men thought: here stands a king; here is an unfathomable depth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So when the Emperor arrived at a mustering, warlords and heroes hit their knees.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus the Primarchs and every high war-captain copied the Emperor’s armor and adornment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They dared not be so bold nor so shameless, of course; they copied in secret, avoided the most sacred imperial sigils.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the Savior was different. Even when he was only a Planetary Governor, he had the gall to copy the Emperor at full power—down to the rivet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wielded the Emperor’s image perfectly to achieve intimidation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now he had surpassed the master with a personal style even more over-the-top.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was pure dominance—a flattening of every Primarch and general around him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stand anyone beside the Savior’s sacred effigy and in a blink you knew who was lord and who was retainer. The gulf of presence was too wide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was why the Lion and the others felt such a hollow in their chests.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Standing beside the Savior’s colossal idol, he felt a hand on his head—felt himself pressed down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It couldn’t be helped. In the Savior’s wake, the Imperium’s aesthetics had undergone another revolution in ten thousand years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the Lion still wore the old cut—plain, effect-less. Some part of the mind rebelled at being outshone so thoroughly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whatever the case, the Savior’s scandalously flashy statue had shaken them to the core.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the gaudy engine finally roared away and sank into the Warp’s howling tides, they noticed how the Caliban forest had changed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They gaped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The forest’s rimlands and treeline were simply gone. Debris drifted in the Warp’s churning void.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Around all that absence hung a single transparent tunnel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Savior’s monstrous engine had wormed a path through the Warp and left behind a half-transparent corridor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion stared a long time, speechless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While he had fretted about holding off the enemies of Chaos, the Savior had begun his advance into the Warp itself?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps that was the gulf between them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, the Lion’s battles lay in the galaxy and upon the Imperium’s frontiers. There he would hew out honor enough for any man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"All units—full speed ahead!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His will burned brighter. The First Primarch would not be outpaced.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The forbidden host marched under the Lion’s command, accelerating toward the Vostonia Pan-Sector.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>THRUM-THRUM-THRUM-THRUM-THRUM!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Eden-pattern Dissonance Engine—the warp tunnel-borer—rampaged through the immaterium, devouring and carving, leaving a half-transparent spaceway behind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The shock rippled through endless voids, like a runaway drilling head, wrecking what passed for calm in the Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the Warp had been a sullen, ever-heaving sea before, this tunnel-borer was a sea-dragon crashing in, kicking up a far greater storm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And it never stopped shredding and swallowing whatever swam those waters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aboard the borer, on the command deck—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden watched the skyscraping drill surge and whirl ahead and the Warp rift and shear before it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He realized, a beat late, \"Did we just bump into something...? A forest in the Warp?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This Savior lineage was always a bit reckless with vehicles and starships. No one worried about crashing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It all went on the expense account anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eden felt that forest had been familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He let it go.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too much drifted in the Warp—wrecked hulls, meteoroids, corpses, even slabs of solidified realms, entire planets, and macroscopic life-forms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everything was out here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long ago he’d even seen a ten-kilometer kraken brawling a void-whale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for chaotic \"domains,\" those were everywhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the holdings of the Dark Gods to territories ruled by Warp-kin, Beast-things, and unaffiliated abominations—there were too many to count.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was another dimension entire; the rules were just wrong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But with an Old One artifact—the warp tunnel-borer—he could explore those places, reopen collapsed Webway trails, or even dig brand-new conduits for Webway construction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the borer to break into this disorder was a small step for him—yet a giant leap for mankind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Humanity was formally setting out to explore the Warp. The Warp would no longer be Chaos’ private demesne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No less meaningful than man’s first reach into space or our first step on Luna. Even if we could do little yet—it was a breakthrough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s just... loud. Maybe we can retrofit dampers or something...\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The whole machine shook and rattled his bones; his words came out with a buzz, drowned in the engine’s roar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In short, it sounded like subway works outside your window—twenty-four seven.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inevitably, the noise radiated into swathes of the Warp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Garden of Nurgle, the Plague God’s daemons had their jolly music smothered; they cursed through their confusion and sank into foul moods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Black House, the sleeping Plaguefather tossed, grumbling as if haunted by nightmare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon the Throne of Delight, the Prince of Pleasure studied the Savior’s muscle-sculpted idol and its heaven-boring drill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sensing those shudders, the Dark Prince only grew more... excited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But when that outrageously bombastic machine veered away, the Prince felt a pang of disappointment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the Crystal Labyrinth, skeins of fate crisscrossed as the Changer of Ways tracked the machine’s path, a smile playing at His beak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had foretold this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After iteration upon iteration, the Great Schemer had finally snared the Savior’s thread and derived the right answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There would be no soul the Changer could not reach, move, or bind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It meant He could now weave a trap of destiny—while the Savior would no longer receive fate’s indulgence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps not death, but a loss so searing it would brand the bones. The Savior and the Imperium would slink home to lick their wounds—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And dare not dream of revival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everything was proceeding according to plan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Khorne’s realm, across the Brass Citadel and red earth, daemons seethed. The colossal racket boiled their nerves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They hacked and grappled all the fiercer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Usually the Warp contaminated the galaxy. This time the Savior contaminated the Warp—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As if ripping up a subway through their living room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Damn it—what is that noise?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Within the Brass Citadel—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Exalted Bloodthirster Ka’Bandha, convalescing upon a throne, was goaded by the din into a fresh bellow, vomiting more fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He backhanded a lesser Bloodthirster out of his way and staggered from the palace, seeking the source.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He found nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the most dreaded daemon in the Warp, he was a ruin of gashes down to bone; his wings hung limp; his face was a map of bruises.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pathetic to see.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A nameless horror had beaten him—like a nightmare writ in blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Perhaps in all the galaxy and the Warp only I—Ka’Bandha—and the Savior have the right to face it.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had been broken, but not unmade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps the only quarry worth his chase—the only rival worth his blade—was his life’s nemesis: the Slayer of Daemons, the Void-Storm, the New Sun of the Imperium, the Hope Primarch—the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet some deep part of the Exalted Bloodthirster worried for the Savior. That thing was too strong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And its true quarry was the Savior. Soon the Warp itself would hunt him in the heart of the Umbral Star-Domain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly Ka’Bandha felt a familiar presence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Far off, a monstrous engine erupted from the void and drove straight for the Blood God’s lands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Blood God!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"&#￥@&%!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the crimson flats, Khorne’s daemons barely had time to look up before a sky-pointing gilded beefcake and a titanic spinning drill slammed into their world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Panic seized them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In heartbeats, the earth twisted and tore and was hurled into the endless dark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They felt a savage weightlessness—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then they lifted—drifting in the void—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because the ground and everything around them had simply stopped existing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worse still for those snared in that heaven-boring drill: they went straight to the Skull Throne.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Terror spread like fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>ROAR—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Brass Citadel vomited a blood-shadow to spear the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Blood God moved.\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>",3105,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.240Z",1,"novelbin.me","b8ac008eaaca853fc344dad7fb72e26c6cfd38a2430c55ba04ac61f71dc73873","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-591","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-589",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]