Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor-Chapter 292 - 293: Guilliman – I Must Ask My Dear Brother for Help

Chapter 292 - 293: Guilliman – I Must Ask My Dear Brother for Help

Chaladon Sector.

Tska-Melo, Queen's Fortress.

Ear-piercing howls echoed from the darkness as Chaos crept upon this mineral-rich world.

As the shadow closed in on the steel-clad fortress, sentries atop the battlements swiftly adjusted their turrets, aiming into the gloom.

But the thick darkness, drenched in Chaos, obscured their vision and bred confusion.

The siege had lasted for days. The defenders were exhausted. The fortress could collapse at any moment.

Many began to believe the Chaos abominations were toying with them.

BZZZZ—

A vessel drifted near the wall — an Ecclesiarchy chapel ship, its deck-based chapel buildings glowing with gentle warmth.

Missionary Fran stepped out, clutching the Codex of Redemption.

He turned to the priests with devout intensity:

"Yes, Chaos is corroding our spirits. Darkness spreads. We teeter on the brink of the abyss...

But only when gazing into the abyss, can our souls be forged into steel-hard faith!

Pray, faithful ones! Let those cursed Chaos beasts know — our faith shall never die!"

Guided by Saint Fran, the priests prayed with unyielding devotion before the statue.

At the same time, the ship's projection array began broadcasting hymns praising the Golden Sun and the Savior.

Warp beasts surged forward like tides.

Broken shadows wrapped around the monstrous forms, confusing both the defenders and the targeting systems.

Terror mounted.

Countless horrific creatures — like waves of nightmare — slammed against the fortress.

Some thundered forth with every step shaking the earth.

Others unfurled bat-like wings and soared through the night, casting ominous silhouettes under moonlight.

Beings that once only existed in ancient terror-lore or apocalyptic prophecy now crossed the veil from the warp into reality.

They screamed toward Queen's Fortress, craving mortal souls.

The commander struggled to send distress calls, but the comms were filled with unnatural howling and whispers, drowning all speech.

The command center fell into chaos.

Then — hymns began to flood the comm channels, dispelling the interference.

A girl's gentle whisper echoed within — driving out the dark murmurs.

Any Tech-Priest present would have surely offered sincere gratitude to the blessings of the Machine Goddess.

At last, the network stabilized.

The commander regained control and gave fresh orders to reorganize and hold the line.

BOOM BOOM BOOM—

Bathed in the light of the chapel and hymns, the defenders regained morale.

They fired back at the incoming warp tides.

On the ground, super-heavy tanks rumbled over Chaos beasts.

Cannons and flames roared, reducing the creatures to ash.

Yet, these ground vehicles could not hold the line alone.

Over twenty daemon engines, each nearly eight meters tall, emerged from the black mist.

Rotting flesh fused with steel, these demonic constructs rampaged.

Every strike or stomp caused devastating casualties.

The tanks' firepower could barely scratch them.

Some withdrew, attempting to reach the secondary defense line to await reinforcements.

But several had pushed too deep and were pinned down.

Daemon engines stomped them flat — or bathed them in molten hellfire.

Drivers screamed as cockpits turned into boiling slag.

"Emperor help us — we need Knight support!"

One pilot's desperate cry rang out before being silenced by agony.

The commander fell silent.

After a pause, he opened another channel...

Calling the Knights.

Within the fortress, noble pilots — exhausted — crawled from recovery pods.

Despite overextended minds and bodies, they sprinted toward their sacred war machines.

They were the Knights of the House Raven.

Once, they'd hesitated and feared the dark — and paid dearly.

Their homeworld, Kolox, had fallen to Chaos, plunged into eternal night.

Now, as Freeblades, they wandered the stars, avenging what was lost.

They had sworn never to fear Chaos again — and to fight until death.

In the makeshift hangar, over a dozen Knight suits — each nine meters tall, sheathed in adamantium and bearing red, yellow, and black livery — stood silently beneath flickering lights.

Pilots climbed into their thrones. Under the Tech-Priests' binary chants, cables linked to their spines.

BZZZZ—

Engines roared to life. Loaders rotated, chambering ammunition.

"Our minds join the Machine Spirit, bearing the honor and might of House Raven..."

The lead Knight's vox rumbled. The others followed.

Exiting the hangar, the Knights picked up speed, charging toward the front.

ROAR—

The daemon engines ravaged the battlefield. One brave tank pilot made a suicidal charge to protect a comrade.

Crashing into a daemon engine, it crippled the creature — but couldn't move again.

Furious, the engine raised its massive hammer—

BOOM!

A plasma blast tore off its limb mid-swing. More blasts followed — destroying it entirely.

"The Freeblades have arrived!"

Knights stormed past the wreckage, unleashing hell on the Chaos swarms.

The daemon engines roared in challenge and charged.

CRASH—

The lead Knight's engine thundered, ramming a daemon engine head-on.

Molten wreckage flew. The Knight's chainsword pierced its core — still spinning violently.

One down.

The others unleashed fury — plasma rounds found weak spots, chainswords bit into unholy flesh.

When the Knights stopped...

Only wreckage remained.

After a moment's rest, the Knights turned their guns on the cultists and abominations.

A new volley.

The Chaos tide, bereft of their daemon engines, began to retreat.

The Freeblades of House Raven trudged wearily back toward the fortress.

No cheers.

They knew this war was far from over.

This was the tenth battle like this. The attacks only grew fiercer.

Chaos was laying siege to the fortress — waiting for despair to consume it.

"Mister Sahim... can we truly be saved?"

From the terrace of the main hall, Queen of Tska-Melo withdrew her gaze from the battlefield.

The young blonde queen, with brown eyes, looked weary — and afraid.

She had only just inherited the throne from her late father... and now faced this disaster.

Once a beloved princess, she had no time to adjust — and was thrust into a chaotic reign.

Clearly, she was overwhelmed.

"Of course," Sahim answered firmly. "The Savior has received the distress call. The armies of the holy world are on their way.

With the Savior's radiance, the heretics and abominations will be burned away..."

Sahim looked at her with calm confidence.

He had been stranded here on this feudal mining world while trading...

And had aided its people, staving off Chaos infiltration.

But unexpectedly, Chaos surged again — sealing off the region.

Had the Freeblades not arrived, the world would have fallen.

Thankfully, Sahim had broken through the comms lockdown and sent a distress call to Urth.

Not just for this world.

After Typhus's Chaos legion was repelled, a new threat emerged — a towering black demon.

It brought an even more terrifying army and Chaos war engines.

Chaladon had no time to recover — it was already in a new war.

The suffering masses needed the Savior.

Though the message had been sent, Sahim remained uneasy.

Chaos could have taken the fortress — yet didn't.

Instead, they surrounded it... as if laying a trap.

He suspected the enemy's real target might be him.

Fortunately, he had already reported everything to Uncle Eden.

And Sahim believed —

No matter what Chaos plotted...

It would all be crushed under the Dominion's unstoppable might!

His confidence soothed the queen.

Her fear faded.

She still had the Savior.

Since she'd prayed to the Golden Sun and Savior — just as Sahim had taught her —

She had felt the Savior's presence.

As if standing right beside her.

She no longer feared sleep.

Warm and vast, a figure would appear in her dreams — banishing nightmares and whispering horrors.

She stared blankly at the Savior's portrait in the hall...

Utterly entranced.

She awaited the Savior's arrival.

...

Deep in Chaladon.

The Black Zone.

A nearly broken planet drifted in the stars — barely visible.

This was Kolvax, once the homeworld of House Raven.

Now, it had fallen — dragged into the border between realspace and the warp.

The noble House Raven... had bent the knee to the Lord of the Black — Be'lakor.

They renamed themselves the House of the Raven of Shadows.

These corrupted nobles piloted Chaos Knights, joining Be'lakor's mighty Chaos legions.

Dark mists filled the sky. Giant chunks of land floated — chained to the planet.

Almost every landmass hosted a soul factory — churning black smoke.

Deep beneath the shattered crust, even greater Chaos forges roared...

Building weapons for titanic monstrosities.

At the world's center was a fortress city. Atop it, a throne rose.

Upon it sat a phantasmal black entity.

"Soon... the galaxy shall witness the glory of the Lord of the Black..."

Seated, the First Daemon Prince — Be'lakor — opened his glowing blue eyes, gazing at a war map.

His armies devoured the region — from Forge World Steel-Orb to distant agri-worlds.

All of Chaladon screamed under his fire.

The Lord of the Black was unstoppable.

Human soldiers struggled in the ashes — like moths to a flame.

No doubt — Chaladon had fallen.

But Be'lakor wanted more.

Slaying the weak meant nothing.

He needed to conquer a true rival.

The one the daemons feared — the Devourer of Demons.

Be'lakor focused on a single world — Tska-Melo.

He had caught the Devourer's scent — and now set his trap.

He was certain the distress call had reached the Devourer's hands.

It would draw him — and his army.

Then, the Lord of the Black would wage a final battle.

Of course, the outcome was predetermined.

He would stand atop the Devourer's corpse — lighting a bonfire of glory in the war-torn galaxy.

Then all would look upon him with awe.

With jubilation, the Lord of the Black would rise to the galactic stage — rallying more Chaos forces.

To complete the unfulfilled work of the Chaos Gods.

Be'lakor looked beyond the war map — toward the horizon. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

His Chaos armies assembled.

Titanic Chaos Titans marched in rows, Chaos Knights formed up...

Half-mechanical slave-soldiers and mutated mecha-demons filled the field.

Warriors of the Word Bearers and Alpha Legion also joined the growing horde...

...

Far across the stars.

The Glorious of Macragge sailed into darker realms.

Atop the Primarch's flagship — within the grand palace — sat the study of Roboute Guilliman.

Its collection of tomes rivaled or surpassed any Imperial library — including forbidden texts from the Great Crusade.

Glass domes soared above. Shelves stretched hundreds of meters high.

They circled a single table.

During rare moments of peace, Guilliman would work here — never wasting a moment.

But today... the table was empty.

Guilliman strolled between the shelves, frowning in thought.

He was thinking of someone.

His dear brother — the Devourer.

Since Guilliman's return, that brother had saved his life — and helped reform the Mechanicus.

That strange brother... always found unorthodox solutions to problems.

His innovation stunned even a Primarch — who often lamented why he lacked such brilliance.

Like the Mecha Forum he built.

That miracle platform conquered the Mechanicus overnight...

Making them abandon archaic dogma for scientific progress.

It was a revival of humanity's lost potential — like during the Great Crusade under their father.

The creativity that once let the Imperium conquer the stars...

Now glimmered again — in his brother.

Thanks to him, the Mechanicus finally submitted to the Imperium.

Production capacity doubled. New weapons emerged.

The Crusade's burden eased.

All because of that dear brother.

Now, another crisis loomed.

Chaladon's resurgence of Chaos, led by Be'lakor, had become a nightmare.

After repelling Typhus, the fleet pushed onward — only for Chaos to rise again.

And now... Be'lakor had arrived.

Chaladon was in ruins.

If Be'lakor entrenched himself there, it would become a Chaos fortress — wedged between the Imperium and the Crusade fleet.

An intolerable threat.

This must be dealt with.

Guilliman had only one thought now:

"I must ask my brother — the Devourer — for help."

Over the years, he had quietly confirmed that brother's territory and military might.

He was now certain — the Devourer was a Primarch.

One he had never met — a younger brother.

After all, every Primarch had their homeworld... their legions.

"What do you think... the Devourer is like?" Guilliman suddenly asked.

Behind him, the silver-haired angel — Saint Celestine — blinked in surprise.

She didn't know their relationship, but answered firmly:

"A mighty being. A trustworthy ally."

"Trustworthy?" Guilliman chuckled.

It was more than that.

This was a brother to entrust his back and his life.

Guilliman made his decision.

Once the Chaladon crisis was resolved...

He would publicly declare his brother's identity to the Imperium.

But contacting him... wasn't easy.

Though Tech-Priests could reach him via the Mecha Forum...

That would expose secrets.

Some things were best said face-to-face.

So today, Guilliman broke a personal rule.

He summoned his greatest psykers — to perform a ritual.

To contact his brother directly.

Soon, a message arrived. The ritual was ready.

Guilliman and Celestine left the study, heading to the ritual chamber.

Guilliman was hopeful — this might be...

Their first meeting.

...

Urth.

Spire Palace, Balcony.

Thanks to Webby, Eden had finally uncovered info on the black demon.

A daemon prince — favored by all four Chaos Gods. Stronger than Ka'Bandha.

An opponent not easily defeated.

Eden knew the truth — unless he abandoned Chaladon...

A great war was coming.

His Military Department was already preparing.

It would be the largest full-scale war since Urth's rebirth!

Victory, however, might spark disputes with the Imperium...

Since Chaladon was their mining region.

Troublesome.

As Eden mulled over these thoughts...

He sensed a benevolent presence trying to contact him — psychically.

"Who's this?"

He reflexively answered, like taking a call.

Too late — the psychic channel had connected!

In an instant, his consciousness was pulled into a psyker-constructed realm...

(End of Chapter)

[Check Out My Patreon For +20 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!][[email protected]/zaelum]

[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[Thank You For Your Support!]