Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor-Chapter 301 - 302: The Plains Campaign – Kill, Kill, Kill!

Corevax.

Central Fortress.

Thick black fog intertwined with twisted energies, nearly veiling the vast, heavily-fortified fortress.

On iron gallows, countless human bodies hung upside down by chains, impaled with spikes, wailing endlessly. Blood flowed down along set tracks.

Their blood and souls were being harvested—used to fuel the Dark Machine hidden beneath the throne chamber.

DOOM. DOOM. DOOM.

Deep underground, the monstrous machine rumbled faster, approaching overload.

Its jagged Blackstone structures hammered against the Warp Curtain, creating ripples. Cracks were visible to the naked eye, leaking the immaterium.

Dozens of colossal daemonic silhouettes projected through the curtain into reality.

These shadowy giants loomed over the throne chamber, eagerly awaiting their descent.

Lesser Warp daemons, already maddened by their lust for realspace, hurled themselves against the weakening barrier.

Occasionally, some lucky ones squeezed through, shrieking as they circled high above the fortress in ecstatic frenzy.

"This... is the real battle now."

Be'lakor sat on his throne, savoring the chaos he had orchestrated.

His grand plan, forged in secrecy, had finally reached its final phase.

The Dark Master's confidence had returned. His previous defeat? A mere fluke. After seizing the legacy of the daemon demi-god Vashtorr, this fortress had become an impenetrable citadel.

Let the Devourer come. Let him try.

Be'lakor wanted to see how the so-called Savior would break through this deathtrap.

He peered past layers of iron walls toward the ramparts.

Artillery batteries stood ready, their grim barrels locked onto key approach zones.

BZZZZZT.

The wall's void shield shimmered to life.

Beyond the fortress walls stretched an endless plain of scorched terrain and flowing magma.

The Chaos forces were busy building wave after wave of fortifications.

Dozens of Titans, over a thousand Chaos Knights, and hordes of daemon engines stood in formation.

The area was packed with tech-slaves, mutated tanks, Chaos sorcerers, and daemons—so many that the eye could not see the end.

They were awaiting the arrival of the Devourer's army.

This was a rare sight—Chaos, the eternal aggressors, digging in for defense.

A bitter pill for many daemonic entities.

But Be'lakor had commanded it. They had no choice.

Besides, the strength of the enemy was unknown. Caution was their best course.

...

Dreamweaver – Bridge

Eden stood in full armor before the monitors, tracking every detail of the battlefield. He needed to time his assault perfectly.

He adjusted in his armor, glancing down uncomfortably.

The suit was great for battle—but terrible for casual movement.

He now understood Roboute Guilliman's daily agony—wearing that armored sarcophagus nonstop, just to stay alive, and the noisy version at that.

Must be torture.

Suddenly, his focus sharpened.

Because... the battle had begun!

...

In Orbit

WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH—

Over a hundred thousand atmospheric assault craft launched from the decks of starships, like a swarm of steel locusts.

They pierced the atmosphere of Corevax, aiming to destroy the remaining surface-to-air defenses and pave the way for the main force.

But as they entered, they were met with a hailstorm of fire.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!

Many floating landmasses chained in the sky were equipped with flak batteries, spitting death skyward.

Several gunships were shot down immediately.

But the assault craft countered swiftly.

They weaved between the floating islands, dropping volley after volley of high-yield bombs, obliterating anti-air platforms one by one.

ROAR—

Then came the Hell Drakes.

They burst from the islands, tearing through gunship armor with claws and bathing the skies in steel-melting warpflame.

Their belly cannons spat Voidfire.

More gunships exploded and crashed in fireballs.

These airborne daemon engines were nightmares incarnate—each requiring overwhelming firepower to bring down.

Fortunately, the gunships had the numbers. They quickly shifted to coordinated tactics.

With semi-autonomous systems, they swarmed efficiently, taking down Hell Drakes with minimal losses.

The sky turned into a pyre of crashing drakes, screaming as they fell.

Simultaneously, some craft tried to reach the central fortress, aiming to bomb the wall and defensive lines.

But they failed.

The defensive barrage was too fierce. Those that approached were annihilated midair.

Realizing this, the assault craft pulled back, focusing on clearing the skies above the designated drop zones.

Once those areas were relatively safe, they released a wave of teleport beacons—burning through the atmosphere like shooting stars.

Back on the Dreamweaver's bridge—

"Will those teleport beacons reach the fortress's core?"

Eden frowned.

He closely watched a batch of beacons streaking toward the heart of the fortress.

Time was tight. Be'lakor's defenses were layered, and the Warp Rift was about to tear open.

Without the Warp Curtain, they could've surrounded and crushed the fortress.

But reality was harsh.

They were racing against time.

If the assault bogged down too long and the Rift opened—it would all be over.

That's why a decapitation strike was the best option.

If the teleport beacons landed inside, he and the Custodes could strike at Be'lakor directly.

But...

The results were disappointing.

The beacons were shot down before they could land—picked off by anti-air fire and intercepted by daemon patrols.

None reached the ground.

The Void Angels tried drop pods, but most were destroyed midair.

Two did land—only to be consumed by darkness, their signals lost.

Eden grimaced and asked:

"Any word from the pods?"

Tako flipped through logs:

"All we got is that they were hit with extreme firepower and died instantly. Also... there were loud chain noises."

Eden sighed as he looked at the screen. "Looks like we'll have to break through from the surface. Let's hope we're fast enough..."

Luckily, the plains' air defenses had been mostly cleared. Transport ships and beacons could now land safely.

DOOM. DOOM. DOOM.

Dozens of teleport beacons slammed into the ground, glowing brightly.

BZZZT—

Portal after portal opened.

Over fifty Redeemer Titans and nearly a thousand Redeemer-class war mechs stepped out.

They formed a defensive perimeter.

Behind them—

Drop pods rained like steel hail. Thousands of War Angels and Void Angels emerged and rallied.

In the skies above—

Massive troop carriers descended from orbit in formation.

The Chaos armies watching from the fortress perimeter breathed a sigh of relief.

The enemy... wasn't as numerous as they feared.

Seeing the enemy still assembling, the Chaos commanders grew restless. Some troops couldn't wait to charge.

Currently, Chaos still held a firepower edge.

And the enemy was vulnerable—troops mid-deployment, lines not yet fully formed.

This was the moment to strike.

If they crushed the first wave, they could even hit the transports.

Gain the upper hand!

"My Lord! The enemy's formation isn't complete. This is the perfect time to attack!"

A Chaos commander contacted Be'lakor urgently. "If we act now, we may break them in one blow!"

Be'lakor noticed the opportunity and began to answer, "Very well, you sh—"

But he paused.

"Wait!"

The Dark Master hesitated.

What if the Devourer was baiting him again?

That last humiliation had left scars.

He didn't trust his own instincts.

What if the Devourer anticipated his anticipation? Pretending to delay, just to lure him in?

Then he'd fall for it again.

Another clown moment.

The mere thought made him tremble with rage and shame.

His mind spun in circles—overthinking every possibility.

"...My Lord?"

The Chaos commander grew anxious.

Be'lakor's brain was a hurricane of preemptive preemptions.

He finally made his decision:

"You're in charge of the plains front. Do as you see fit!"

He relinquished command—no longer micromanaging as he usually did.

If he didn't make decisions, he couldn't make mistakes.

Besides, this outer skirmish wouldn't decide the war.

As long as he held the fortress for half a day—he wouldn't lose.

What, the Devourer would wipe out his entire Chaos army? fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Ridiculous. He held the advantage!

After handing off command, Be'lakor cut communications.

He focused entirely on the fortress's interior—personally micromanaging elite deployments.

He moved a meltacannon five meters left on the tactical map.

...

Plains Battlefield

The Savior's forces continued assembling.

"ALL UNITS—ADVANCE! CRUSH THOSE IMPERIAL MAGGOTS!"

Chaos commanders, given free rein, launched the offensive.

The troops exploded with excitement.

They had been waiting to kill.

For Chaos, war meant one thing—charge and slaughter.

Defense? That was for weak Imperial cowards!

DOOM. DOOM. DOOM.

The ground trembled.

Dozens of Chaos Titans marched forward.

Behind them came over a thousand Corvus-pattern Chaos Knights and daemon engines.

The entire Chaos horde surged forward.

Chaos warriors bellowed war cries, charging behind their behemoths with terrifying momentum.

At the front of the Savior's line—

BZZT.

Void shields rose across the Redeemer Titans. Turrets calibrated, preparing for the impact.

Arye, piloting a dark gold ten-meter mech, flexed its limbs in a warm-up.

Among his forces—

The Freeblade Knights gripped their weapons tightly, tense and focused.

They saw the wave of Chaos warriors—black clouds rolling across the horizon, Titans shaking the earth.

Ranks upon ranks of Corvus Knights.

Their blood boiled with fury.

They wanted to charge right now, fight to the death!

But doubts lingered.

The Chaos army vastly outnumbered them.

Could they hold the line long enough for reinforcements to arrive?

They weren't sure.

But seeing their comrades remain calm—they too braced for impact.

BOOM BOOM BOOM—

Chaos Titans opened fire the moment they entered range.

The Redeemer Titans held position, shielding allies with void shields. Their return fire was restrained.

They were waiting...

The Chaos commander watching this grew uneasy.

The Savior's formation was still sparse. There were gaps.

Weren't they worried about being flanked?

And they seemed... too calm.

As the Chaos charge continued—

His unease deepened.

Did he launch the assault too soon?

But it was too late.

There was no stopping the blood-drunk horde now.

Chaos Titans unleashed barrages. Knights raked the field with mass fire. Warriors sprinted like rabid beasts.

The Imperials were right there—they couldn't resist.

KILL!!!

Under the cover of firepower, the Chaos army surged into the enemy's line.

"CHARGE!!!"

Arye roared, leading the Redeemer mechs in a counterassault.

At that moment, the battlefield erupted with the Savior's battle hymns.

Back on the Dreamweaver—

Eden watched as a new wave of fiery trails fell toward the surface.

More beacons. More drop pods.

The real main force—three times larger than the enemy.

"Hissss~ That worked too well..."

Eden inhaled sharply. He could hardly believe it.

He had simply repeated an old trick—baiting the enemy forward, then hitting them with overwhelming force.

He hadn't expected it to work again.

But it did.

An unexpected joy.

This would accelerate the fall of the Chaos army—and the collapse of the fortress.

...

Plains Front

"It's over!"

The Chaos commander stared at the fiery sky—his heart sank.

The battle was lost.

He tried to react, screaming into the comms, "DEFENSE! RALLY THE LINES!"

"CHARGE! CHAAAARGE!!"

But the comms were flooded with a different order—laced with mind-scrambling hymns.

"What the—?"

He cut the channel.

To his horror, it had been hacked—by the enemy!

Chaos usually jammed Imperial comms.

Now... the tables had turned.

His commands couldn't get through.

He watched helplessly as his horde ran into a trap.

Fear crept in.

For the first time facing Imperials—

He felt true terror.

"No... This isn't the Imperium... This is something far worse..."

Chaos warriors charged, screaming for blood.

"DIE, YOU IMPERIAL WHELPS!"

A Chaos marine swung his chainsword wildly.

DOOM—

A drop pod crushed him flat.

His comrades froze.

They saw the fiery rain falling around them.

They were being surrounded mid-charge?

CLANG.

The pod hatch burst open.

A War Angel stepped out, shaking his head.

Behind him, more Space Marines emerged.

The pod—like an armored clown car—had been packed to bursting.

Dozens poured out, eyes cold, staring the Chaos troops down.

Those Chaos warriors exchanged glances—

"...Can we talk this out?"

Nope.

They were blasted into red mist before they could move.

On the field—

The Savior's forces had deployed over 200 Redeemer Titans, 2,000 Redeemer mechs, over 20,000 Void and War Angels...

And more armored support.

No more drops were needed—there was no room.

The objective: annihilate the Chaos army and storm the fortress.

The field had been split—the Chaos army surrounded.

Next came slaughter.

The Chaos troops panicked, like sheep surrounded by wolves.

They didn't even know who the real monsters were anymore.

BOOM BOOM BOOM—

Above, Redeemer Titans clashed with Chaos Titans.

The Redeemers' void shields held firm—then they focused fire.

Outgunned and shieldless, the Chaos Titans fell one by one.

Freeblade Knights charged with Arye, dodging burning wreckage.

They dove onto the Corvus Knights—ripping them apart.

Sparks flew.

"DIE, YOU CORVUS SCUM!"

"I'LL RIP OUT YOUR HEART!"

"***—SAY HI TO YOUR CHAOS GOD!"

The Freeblades screamed curses and vengeance, hacking their enemies to bits.

They were louder, fiercer than the Chaos berserkers.

Some even felt a strange power stirring within.

Arye's squad of Redeemers went berserk—flattening everything in their path. The Corvus Knights fled in terror.

UNSTOPPABLE.

These were true Imperial warriors.

The Freeblades were reminded of their past—how they had bled to hold the line against Chaos.

But now—

KILL KILL KILL. BLAST THEM TO HELL!

"DIE, YOU CHAOS BASTARDS!!!"

Arye howled, charging once more.

But then, the Freeblades noticed something odd.

Wait... is he doing what we think he's doing?

He was charging—a lone mech—straight toward a Chaos Titan.

A Redeemer mech... charging a Titan?!

(End of Chapter)

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