Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor-Chapter 303 - 304 – Huh, Did the Devourer Die?

Whoosh—

Arye charged forward in his vehicle, streaking like lightning through the breach in the city wall, heading straight for the heart of the central fortress.

He practically skimmed over the heads of the defending troops. Those unfortunate enough to be caught below didn't even have time to react before they were consumed by the searing jet exhaust, reduced to charred husks in an instant.

He was moving so fast that only afterimages remained.

Kaul's mechanical creations were always brutally simple—focused on one thing: speed. Safety was nearly nonexistent.

This vehicle was so wild that even a Space Marine would struggle to control it. Without lightning-fast reflexes and sheer luck, it was easy to crash into an obstacle and be torn to pieces.

Fortunately, if there was one thing Arye had in spades, it was luck. As long as the chance of death wasn't absolute, he considered it survivable.

The sudden intruder immediately triggered an alert throughout the central fortress. freewёbnoνel.com

They had to stop the strange rider before he reached the core area in ten minutes and caused unpredictable consequences.

At the same time, all the defense zones along Arye's path went on high alert. Countless turrets of all kinds swiveled into position, aiming at the incoming target.

Boom boom boom—

The vehicle roared, and a storm of firepower rained down.

But Arye suddenly pushed the vehicle into overdrive mode, and its speed surged even further—blazing through the inferno.

The bombardment could only eat his exhaust fumes!

"Stop him at all costs!"

Upon the throne, Be'lakor's expression darkened, issuing more attack orders.

But it was all in vain.

On screen—

One street after another was reduced to rubble under heavy fire, but that unstoppable vehicle and the warrior driving it just kept pressing closer and closer to the core.

There was no stopping him.

Arye was now fully immersed in the mission. He paid no mind to the incoming fire or even his own life or death.

He had only one thought:

To accelerate.

To reach the target zone designated by the Savior.

Time passed.

Finally, Arye reached the throne chamber at the fortress's core. Before him stood a massive throne—and seated atop it, a terrifying daemon.

Behind the throne, the Warp Curtain was fracturing and twisting, and immense amounts of warp energy spilled forth. Countless horrific daemon shadows slithered and squirmed beyond.

The overwhelming stench of corruption made Arye feel physically ill.

He even began to hallucinate.

The shadows beyond the Warp Curtain whispered in his mind, craving fresh flesh and luring all who approached into joining their ranks.

"Damn Chaos scum..."

Arye spat, cursing in a low growl.

But in the next instant, his heart thundered in his chest. His skin broke out in goosebumps.

He felt a crushing sense of doom.

It was the shadow of death.

For the first time, Arye felt death approach. His legendary luck... might finally have run out.

Clang!

Several thick iron chains burst through the fortress walls, hurtling toward his vehicle—utterly overwhelming.

This time, Arye didn't evade in time. The chains pierced through the vehicle, triggering a violent explosion.

He was blasted away by the shockwave. Half his body was scorched, and he lost an arm.

He tumbled across the floor and struggled to rise.

His bionic eye was ruined, his remaining eye blinded by blood. More blood dripped down, pooling beneath him.

Yet that blood was quickly absorbed by an unseen presence.

Arye could feel it—the dark closing in. His blurred vision was filled with twisted daemon shapes.

It seemed there would be no escape this time.

The Immortal Arye was about to meet his end—his grave dug in this foul place.

Dozens of elite Greater Daemons circled him.

They were Be'lakor's personal guard—ferociously strong, capable of tearing Space Marines limb from limb.

For a mortal warrior like Arye , no matter how formidable, he could never stand against such monsters. Their very essence was a world apart.

"How delicious... it's been so long since I've tasted such tempting mortal flesh."

The daemons bared their fangs, tails sweeping up the blood from the floor—

Tasting it with vile delight.

They couldn't wait to tear Arye apart, savoring his flesh one piece at a time.

This entire region was teeming with terrifying Greater Daemons—and Arye stood alone, the last human in sight.

Yet even as the horde closed in, he felt no fear.

"Savior... I don't think I'm making it back..."

He spat blood and wiped the crimson from his blurry vision. "But even if I die, I'll take some of these daemon bastards with me!"

Arye summoned the last of his strength, straightened his back, and ignited his power claw.

Bzzzz~

In that moment, brilliant columns of light erupted behind him—followed by more descending from the heavens.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Each pillar struck the ground, scattering arcs of raw energy.

Heavy boots slammed down, cracking the rock beneath. As the light faded, towering warriors clad in dark golden armor began to emerge.

Their armor was inscribed with relic runes, even bulkier than Terminator armor—

Yet just as agile.

These were the Savior's strongest force!

A full thousand elite warriors began teleporting in to carry out their mission.

"Brother, fall back. The Wardens are taking over..."

Carter stepped forward, blocking Arye's broken body with his own. His battle-scarred armor, wrapped in thick iron chains, radiated immense pressure.

With the power armor amplifying him—

This Commander stood nearly four meters tall, completely shielding Arye behind him.

Facing the oncoming swarm of daemons, Carter's cold face lit up with a trace of excitement.

He coiled the chains tighter around his massive chainsword, locking it into place.

Vrrrroooom!!!

The sword roared to life, its teeth flashing with energy. Modified repeatedly, this ancient relic—named Gutripper—now pulsed with unmatched destructive power.

Roar—

The Greater Daemons lunged forward, the stench of Chaos rolling off their malformed bodies.

Carter didn't bother to defend.

Years of ceaseless battle and brutal training had honed his every move to brutal, clinical precision.

He lunged forward, seizing a daemon by the throat and smashing it to the ground. Before it could even scream, his armored boot came down—crushing its skull into paste.

Without pause, he slammed another down and rammed his roaring chainsword into its mouth, shredding its innards.

Alone, Carter charged into the horde, his brutal chainsword dismembering any daemon in his path. Severed limbs and gore littered the battlefield—none could stand before him.

This merciless warrior struck such fear into the Greater Daemons that some hesitated, while the more cunning ones avoided him altogether, turning toward the other Thunderwardens.

"No!!"

One daemon let out a horrified wail—

In its final vision, it saw Carter forcing another daemon to its knees and tearing out its spine and skull in one savage motion. Blood sprayed across his armor.

He wrapped the spine around himself like a trophy—more daemon than daemon.

A savage god of war.

This commander of the Thunderwardens fought with such elegance and brutality that even the daemons shuddered.

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

Suddenly, from beyond the Warp Curtain, the daemons of Khorne roared with delight, praising this mortal warrior.

He was to their taste.

Khorne's daemons never hesitated to admire and honor a true warrior.

Of course, this was no blessing—only a signal for them to strike harder when they came for your head.

At this moment, many of the Greater Daemons of Khorne had locked eyes on Carter, their gazes fierce.

They relished the idea of challenging a true warrior, severing his head—

And placing it upon the Skull Throne.

But Carter paid it no mind. The only thing on his mind was to bring the Savior's thunderous wrath down upon the enemies of mankind!

With his Thunderwardens, he cut a bloody swathe through Be'lakor's elite daemon guard—unstoppable.

Upon the throne—

"Useless filth!"

Be'lakor watched his elite guard falter, his expression growing darker with each passing second. He realized he had lost yet another move in this game.

At the same time, he felt a flicker of envy toward the Savior—for being able to command such formidable warriors. These troops were far stronger than any of the tin cans Be'lakor had ever faced.

"Hmph, how arrogant..."

Be'lakor suddenly sensed something and sneered, dark energy surging.

The Thunderwarden commander was coming for him.

He dared to challenge the Great Dark Lord?

Boom—

At that moment, a colossal beam of light descended. From within, a towering figure nearly five meters tall emerged in menacing armor.

His presence alone drew every Chaos being's attention.

Because the Devourer had arrived.

"Trouble already, huh..."

Eden stepped out of the teleportation energy, frowning slightly. He immediately sensed a suppressive force in the area.

Something here was dampening his psychic powers—and even affecting the potency of his Sacred Ash Rounds.

As he expected, after revealing his powers several times, the Chaos Daemons had begun to take precautions, developing countermeasures against him.

In the hellish crucible of the galaxy, there were countless ways to restrain and even assassinate an enemy—subtly and silently.

Even daemons kept hidden trump cards and their true names—

To avoid being targeted.

Even the so-called poster boy of the Imperium, Roboute Guilliman, had nearly been killed by a trap set by his fallen brother—ending up in Nurgle's Garden.

This was why Eden always played it safe—keeping aces up his sleeve.

He had long prepared for the day someone would counter him, and had made some arrangements just before teleporting in.

The situation now was certainly riskier—

But not without hope.

Roughly... an 80–90% chance?

Honestly, that was a poor success rate—high risk territory.

And in a war against Chaos, you only got one life. One misstep could lead to total collapse, or worse, falling into the clutches of Chaos—perhaps even death.

Eden looked toward the source of the densest warp corruption—a massive throne upon which the Dark Lord Be'lakor sat.

Then, his scalp tingled.

Because he saw Carter—his Thunderwarden Commander—leading a group of Wardens in a charge straight at the throne.

Good grief... Carter's at it again.

While the Thunderwardens were generally superior to Primaris Marines, they still hadn't reached the level of the Adeptus Custodes. Carter's strength at most could challenge an average Greater Daemon.

Now he was trying to challenge a daemon demi-god?

Clang!

Dozens of massive iron chains lashed out like venomous serpents, crashing toward Carter and his team with crushing force.

Boom boom boom—

The chains slammed into the metal ground, tearing open massive fissures.

The Wardens couldn't evade in time—sent flying, gravely wounded, on the verge of death.

Be'lakor's casual strike had dealt them tremendous damage.

Yet Carter held his ground.

With a roar, he severed the attacking chains with his chainsword and leapt onto the throne's platform—his blade aimed at the massive daemon body on the throne.

Carter, Commander of the Thunderwardens, challenges the Dark Lord Be'lakor!

"Your courage is commendable... but utterly foolish."

Be'lakor remained unmoving upon his throne, barely acknowledging Carter's presence—as if the mortal wasn't even worth rising for.

Carter's expression became colder and more serious. As a Warden, he had protected the Savior countless times.

Now, the Savior no longer needed much protection.

That left Carter a bit... lost.

But no matter what, he was still a Warden.

And he would raise his blade against any foe!

Without hesitation, Carter swung his chainsword toward Be'lakor with all his might.

Clang clang clang!

Massive iron chains blocked the strike with ease.

From the gaps between the chains,

Be'lakor stared down at Carter, letting out a sneering, contemptuous laugh.

"Mortal... your pathetic attacks can't even scratch me..."

Yet just as the Dark Lord mocked him, Carter smiled.

A bad feeling surged in Be'lakor's heart.

In the next instant—

Carter's speed and strength surged several times over. With one ferocious swing, he shattered the chains and brought his chainsword down toward the massive daemon body.

Be'lakor reacted just in time. Though he blocked the blade, he didn't see the fist coming.

BAM!

The punch slammed into his face.

Agony exploded in his nose, his face warping under the brutal impact.

That one strike felt glorious to Carter. After so many years with the Savior, he too had learned the value of holding back... and striking at the perfect moment.

ROAR—

Be'lakor howled in pain, a wave of warp energy blasting Carter away.

The humiliation enraged him.

Damn it! I've become the clown again!

The Devourer's voice echoed in his mind like a nightmare.

"You... will die!"

Be'lakor rose from the throne, lifting a dark longsword wreathed in warp flame. From that height, he looked down on Carter, radiating crushing pressure.

The sword came crashing down.

Carter blocked as best he could—cratering the floor—but was still sent flying.

He quickly got back up and leapt into the air, slamming his blade downward with all his might.

But Be'lakor didn't give him another chance. He parried the blow, then—

WHAM!

A devastating kick smashed into Carter's armor, leaving a deep dent and sending him flying again.

Blood spurted from his mouth.

He was launched like a missile, crashing through several ruined buildings before disappearing from sight.

In mere seconds, Carter had been defeated.

The other Thunderwardens, seeing their commander beaten so severely, didn't panic.

Just another Tuesday.

Sigh...

Eden let out a long sigh.

Classic Carter. Always taking the nastiest hits.

But it wasn't all his fault. As their territory had expanded, the enemies they faced grew stronger. Though Carter trained relentlessly, he simply couldn't keep up with the Savior's explosive growth in power.

Even so—he was still terrifying in his own right.

Just a few decades ago, Carter had been a mere modified soldier.

Now? He could exchange blows with a daemon demi-god.

The future was promising.

Eden scanned the battlefield. Carter was heavily injured—but for him, this was a warm-up.

Honestly, he'd gotten worse during his usual "extreme training sessions."

Seeing that Carter was about to get up and throw himself back into the fight, Eden quickly issued a command:

"Stand down. Redirect to other targets."

Be'lakor was no ordinary enemy.

If Carter pressed on, the risk of death was too high.

And Eden couldn't afford that kind of loss.

This battle—it would be his.

Upon the throne platform, Be'lakor turned his gaze toward Eden.

Surrounded by his daemonic guard, the Dark Lord waited—for the Devourer to challenge him.

To put an end to this growing shame.

Eden stepped forward.

As the black-clad Devourer advanced, the daemon guards fell silent, eyes full of dread. None dared to strike.

If his guards were that terrifying—how monstrous must the Devourer himself be?

Who would dare step up? Better let the boss handle it.

Besides, serving Be'lakor hadn't exactly paid off. After all these years, what had they gotten? Defeat after defeat.

Why throw away their lives now?

So, the daemon guard stepped aside.

To outsiders, it looked like they were welcoming the Devourer—clearing a royal path.

Seeing this, Be'lakor seethed.

His enemies punched him and fought without fear.

His own guards just rolled over and let the enemy walk in?

Another loss.

BOOM—

Eden leapt, soaring over obstacles and landing hard on the throne platform. The impact cracked the stone beneath, leaving a deep crater.

From beyond the Warp Curtain, the gaze of countless daemons converged on the two figures—

At last, the long-awaited duel was about to begin: the Dark Lord vs. the Devourer!

Be'lakor too had waited for this moment. He stretched his massive limbs, iron chains unfurling like serpents in every direction. His lips curled into a chilling grin.

"Devourer... you're far weaker than I expected..."

He barely finished speaking when—

BOOM—

A blinding sun erupted in midair.

A surge of sacred radiance instantly flooded the battlefield.

"Aaaahhhh!"

Be'lakor and his daemon guards screamed in agony, shrieking as they burned. Several of them dissolved outright in the searing brilliance.

Beyond the Warp Curtain, the daemon horde erupted into a frenzy—

For the first time, the daemon horde truly felt fear.

The terrifying weapon's power had been unveiled. Panic and disorder rippled through their ranks.

Eden said nothing, his expression stoic as he loaded another Sacred Ash Round into his launcher.

Now wasn't the time for words.

Suppressive fire was the answer.

As the sacred glow of the blast began to fade—

Be'lakor's cold, mocking laughter echoed.

His massive form reemerged, shrouded in thick black smoke. The sacred weapon had only scorched his flesh—it hadn't done any real damage.

Many of his daemon guard still stood.

"Surprised?" Be'lakor sneered. "Your weapon has failed..."

Around him, dark constructs made of Blackstone began to rise. Even the chains on his body were now bound with it.

He continued,

"Without that toy, you're nothing but a pathetic worm. You can't possibly stand against a true power."

The Blackstone forges around him weren't just for show. These defenses nullified and dampened warp abilities, suppressing psychic energy and spiritual effects alike.

Eden needed only a glance to understand.

His Sacred Ash Rounds weren't truly miniature suns—they were the fusion of holy energy and condensed psychic solar cores. Their payload was small-scale, designed to cleanse daemons in short bursts.

And now... they were being significantly weakened.

BOOM! BOOM!

Eden didn't stop—he fired two more larger rounds.

Twin suns blazed into existence.

Be'lakor screamed again, louder this time. But behind the agony... was excitement.

"Struggle! Your weapon cannot destroy me! This proves your defeat is inevitable!"

The Dark Lord once more emerged from the light—his body covered in wounds, reeking with a sickening stench.

But he was more confident than ever. He turned to the daemons watching through the Warp Curtain and proudly displayed his battered form.

"Behold, demons! The so-called Devourer is no god! He is a coward who hides behind weapons!"

Then he pointed at Eden, voice thundering with authority.

"I, the Great Dark Lord, have stripped this coward of his false mask! His power is unworthy of fear!"

ROAR—

The Warp Curtain trembled violently.

The greater daemons and hordes began to cheer. Their eyes toward Eden grew fierce... and mocking.

The Dark Lord was right.

This Devourer... wasn't worthy of reverence.

Just a coward.

Be'lakor's elation surged.

He could feel it—the fear of the daemons toward him restored, even greater than before.

In their eyes...

He was the first to stand against the Devourer and survive. The first to reveal the truth behind the legend.

Worthy of their respect.

"Damn... this guy's good," Eden thought, brows furrowed.

He could see it plainly—Be'lakor was undermining his reputation.

The Warp was a realm of thought and emotion. Mental energy shaped reality here.

The identity of the Devourer had been constructed from the daemons' fear—fear that generated powerful psychic energy and allowed him to suppress them.

Now, that reverence was slipping away.

And fast.

If this continued, the identity of "Devourer" would collapse.

Even if Eden escaped today, daemons would endlessly pursue him for vengeance.

No matter what, he had to restore that fear.

The Sacred Ash Rounds were being suppressed by the Blackstone, yes... but their effects still worked.

If quality didn't suffice—then it was time for quantity.

Clenching his teeth, Eden pulled out a full cache of Sacred Ash Rounds, preparing to unleash a supercharged bombardment.

But just as he took aim—

Be'lakor's aura exploded again, surging with overwhelming pressure.

Oh no. This bastard's been hiding his strength!

Eden immediately grew cautious.

He was dealing with a real opponent now.

Maximum caution mode: engaged.

Suddenly, a fatal sense of danger stabbed through him. He lunged to evade—

ZZZZZRT!

He dodged the killing blow, but a chain wreathed in foul warp energy pierced his launcher and snatched the Sacred Ash Rounds away.

"Now, you're defenseless..."

Be'lakor's chains wrapped around the sacred shells, crushing them with a metallic screech. The fragments rained at Eden's feet.

Be'lakor's cold eyes narrowed.

"You didn't really think I was the clown, did you?"

"I've studied you for a long time. Your cautious personality. Your dreadful weapons. I spent enormous effort to draw you here...

And now—this ends."

Chains burst from his body, skewering hundreds of thousands of human bodies strung up on steel pillars across the arena. He hoisted them into the air for all to see—

Their screams echoing in despair.

"You!"

Rage surged through Eden.

This was Chaos.

To them, humanity was nothing—just insects to be slaughtered without consequence.

"I see... you really care for these mortals," Be'lakor mocked.

"Angry, aren't you? But there's nothing you can do."

With a casual wave, he crushed the prisoners into a mist of blood and flesh.

A rain of gore fell across the battlefield.

BOOM!

Overcome with fury, Eden drew his power sword and charged, slashing with all his might.

But Be'lakor easily parried.

Now the Dark Lord held back nothing.

He had seen through the Devourer's true strength.

At full power, the Dark Lord radiated overwhelming oppression. Thousands of iron chains lashed out, binding Eden's limbs, coiling tighter and tighter—completely restraining him.

"It's over."

Be'lakor roared, unleashing the attack he'd been building toward all along. His greatsword surged with razor-sharp warp energy and—

SLASHED.

"This is the end..."

Eden struggled—

He watched helplessly as the ripple of warp energy surged toward him.

Then—darkness.

Consciousness slipped away.

The devastating energy wave sliced clean through his body and continued beyond, cleaving through several towering buildings behind him.

BOOOOM—

Structures crumbled and collapsed with thunderous crashes.

The Devourer's body fell alongside the shattered chains, split into several pieces.

For a moment, silence fell across the battlefield.

Within the Warp Curtain, the assembled daemons all exchanged glances, stunned—

Was it real?

The one they had feared for so long—the Devourer—had just died?

Though confusion lingered, the mangled corpse before them held no soul signature.

It was real.

Be'lakor himself inspected the body, warily probing for any lingering essence.

After confirming it was indeed lifeless, he stepped on the body with one boot and raised his daemonic sword high.

"The Devourer has fallen to my blade! His death marks the beginning of the Dark Crusade!"

As the Dark Lord's voice echoed through the realm—

CRACK—

The Warp Curtain shattered further.

More daemons surged forth, rushing out like a tide.

The horde erupted in cheers.

They roared in reverence, offering their loyalty to the Dark Lord, pledging themselves to his call—

To march on Holy Terra.

Be'lakor basked in the moment, glory radiating from him like a storm.

He had redeemed himself, trampling the Devourer beneath his foot—

Crowned as King.

At the height of the celebration—

"Oi, clown."

A voice cut through the madness.

???!

Be'lakor froze.

His eyes darted toward the sound, panic creeping into his features.

WHAM!

A colossal fist smashed into his face.

His flesh twisted under the blow. Teeth shattered and flew through the air, ricocheting off the throne like bullets.

BOOOM—

The impact collapsed the Dark Throne, the very symbol of Be'lakor's rule.

Dust exploded into the air.

Be'lakor crashed into the ruins of his throne, eyes wide with terror.

"This... this is impossible..."

It wasn't just that the Devourer had survived—

It was the presence he now radiated.

Completely unfamiliar.

It wasn't the same Devourer from the reports.

Not the same man he'd fought before.

This was something else. A new existence.

The daemons fell silent again.

Their eyes fixed on the new figure stepping from the teleportation gate.

He was taller, more terrifying, and cloaked in an aura that made even the strongest Greater Daemons recoil.

Before, the horde feared the Devourer's weapon.

But now—

They realized something far more terrifying:

The Devourer's true power wasn't just his weapon... It was him.

(End of Chapter)

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