Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor-Chapter 318 - 319 – The Swarm... Has Arrived!!!

Tegonia Desert.

The air shimmered under the invisible flames of heat, waves of distortion rippling across the sand.

Many fleshy, plant-like organisms swayed gently in the heat.

Suddenly—

A fiery red flower twisted into a monstrous shape, lashing out a tendril that skewered a sand lizard, pulling it into its maw with a sickening crunch.

A second later, that deadly, flesh-like organism was crushed under the roaring advance of massive steel treads.

Dark red juices splattered across the sand.

Danusian desert vehicles, unique to the planet, raced across the dunes.

The rumbling engines occasionally drew the attention of skeletal swarm creatures.

Yet every time the swiftbone bugs attacked, the Tyranid Hunters riding the vehicles would quickly dispatch them.

Even the corpses were carefully collected.

To the Danusians, every bit of biomass was precious.

Inside the lead vehicle's cockpit, Eden sat watching the alien landscape roll past.

Contrary to his expectations, life here was abundant.

The arrival of the Tyranids had utterly reshaped Danus' ecology—

it had become both more vibrant and infinitely deadlier.

Fortunately, when the Tyranids first fell back through time, they had been cut off from their Hive Fleet.

Stranded on a desert planet, unable to harvest sufficient biomass, they failed to grow into an unstoppable swarm.

Eden pulled his gaze back and turned to his dataslate, scrolling through the compiled information about Danusian history.

Recorded history only stretched back 1,500 years.

Back then, the Danusians lived primitive lives.

As for how they first arrived on Danus, there were no records.

Perhaps it was a Warp travel accident, or a lost colonization fleet.

Regardless, they had settled here.

They clung to survival in scattered tribal groups, clustered around rare oases.

Resources were desperately scarce.

Everything changed a little over a thousand years ago.

The Tyranids descended from the heavens, bringing catastrophic devastation.

But salvation arrived.

The Savior sent a divine angel—Big Barrel.

Under Big Barrel's leadership, the Danusians fought the Tyranids for nearly a millennium, eventually suppressing their threat.

In a strange way,

they had achieved an ecological balance.

Though the Tyranids brought death,

they also provided precious biomass.

Thanks to them, the population of Danus grew exponentially.

Today, the oases housed hundreds of millions.

The Danusians had evolved from primitive tribes to flourishing kingdoms.

Of course, it had not been easy.

At first, the Tyranid meat's toxins and acids caused horrible suffering.

Many died or mutated into monsters.

Yet the Danusians refused to abandon the Tyranid meat.

Faced with the Tyranids' ravenous destruction of plant life and protein sources, they had no choice.

The death knell had sounded.

At a critical juncture, guided by the divine angels, the Danusians found a path:

Hunt the Swarm.

Eat the Swarm.

Thus, the bravest among them reserved normal food for others—

—and ate the Tyranids themselves.

Following the angels' teachings, they hunted, processed, and consumed the flesh of their enemies.

These brave pioneers were honored beyond measure.

Not only for their sacrifice,

but because they had become like the angels—

—slayers and devourers of the Tyranids.

Thus was born the title:

Tyranid Hunter.

Many perished.

But more survived, developing resistances.

Through generations of selective survival,

Danusians evolved.

Today, virtually every Danusian could consume Tyranid meat without suffering.

Moreover—

—the stronger the toxin,

—the greater the honor.

Among prestigious hunter families, newborns were sometimes fed trace amounts of toxins,

sharpening their senses and preparing them to hunt from infancy.

Of course, this ritual required a priest's witness and approval.

"Impressive," Eden muttered, sucking in a breath.

The Danusians' resilience was astonishing.

Their physicality and combat instincts made them perfect candidates for Space Marine ascension.

Eden had already decided:

Danus would become a fortress world.

Here, he would forge a new Chapter specialized in combating xenos swarms.

A pity—

The supply of gene-seed was currently limited, preventing large-scale recruitment.

A knock came at the door.

"Savior," said a hesitant voice.

Prince Salo entered with a food tray after receiving permission.

"The hunters captured a predator bug," he said respectfully, bowing low.

"I prepared this myself. Please, honor me by tasting it."

"Perfect timing," Eden chuckled.

"I've been meaning to try Tyranid meat."

He lifted the lid.

Hot, aromatic skewers of grilled bug flesh steamed invitingly.

Years ago on Earth, even the mere rumor of Tyranids had terrified him.

Now, here he was, about to eat one.

The universe was truly ironic.

Eden grabbed a skewer, sniffed it.

As expected, faintly corrosive, riddled with complex toxins.

Normal humans would die from a single bite.

Half of his idea to mass-produce Tyranid meat products was already fading.

He'd leave the research to Big Barrel when the kid came back.

Maybe there was a breakthrough waiting.

He bit into the skewer.

For an ordinary human, it would have been suicide.

But Eden was no ordinary human.

Even Big Barrel's enhanced genetics ultimately traced back to Eden's divine origin.

Eating Tyranids?

Please.

He could gnaw on a greater daemon if he wanted.

The title Devourer of Daemons hadn't been won for nothing.

"Delicious," Eden declared.

He gave Salo an encouraging nod.

"Not bad at all. You've captured a bit of Big Barrel's skill."

Hearing this, Salo's face lit up with unrestrained joy.

For the Danusians, Tyranid Hunters were expected not only to fight—

—but to cook.

Mastery of both was mandatory.

A compliment linking his cooking to Big Barrel?

It was the highest possible honor.

Eden studied the young prince thoughtfully.

"Later, I'll watch your trial.

If you perform well—

—I might offer you a chance to become an Angel."

The words struck like thunder.

Salo struggled to control his trembling body.

He saluted in the warrior's tradition, suppressing his tears:

"I will hunt the strongest, most delicious beast for you, my Savior!"

With that, he turned and left to prepare.

Eden leisurely continued eating the Tyranid skewer, thoughtful.

A new realization dawned.

During the past thousand years—

Big Barrel and the Sons of Man must have continuously recruited the best Tyranid Hunters into their Chapter.

They had technicians, maintenance lines, gene-seed cultivation equipment.

Which meant—

The Sons of Man had likely expanded steadily over a millennium.

Their numbers, their stockpile of gene-seed...

All based on Danusian physiology. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Highly specialized for Tyranid combat.

Top-tier genetics.

Yet curiously—

There were no clear records left behind.

The recruitment, the transitions,

were all meticulously erased.

The Sons of Man had protected their secrets faithfully.

Eden couldn't estimate their exact numbers.

But after a thousand years?

It had to be significant.

"Absolutely worth it," Eden thought, chewing another skewer contentedly.

He couldn't help but miss Big Barrel.

That kid really was a treasure.

He had no regrets about all the resources he'd invested into the Sons of Man.

Now—

he was looking forward even more to visiting the ancient temple they had left behind.

Trial Grounds.

Following the procession, Eden arrived at a vast arena built of solid stone.

It stretched several square kilometers.

Inside, countless varieties of Tyranid creatures were imprisoned.

Captured by seasoned Hunters, they were used to test the Newblood Warriors.

Due to the decreasing wild population of Tyranids,

the priests managing the grounds were considering domesticating the bugs.

Restrictions had been placed on hunts.

Limits on Tyranid meat consumption were advocated.

It was conservation policy—

—to preserve the ecosystem.

Eden nodded approvingly.

Prudent.

It reflected a core principle of the Redeemer's teachings:

Balance with nature.

He took a seat as the trials commenced.

The horn sounded.

Nearly a thousand Newblood Warriors rushed into the arena, armed only with basic melee weapons.

No armor.

Just flesh, steel, and courage.

The Tyranids roared in their pens.

Eden briefly scanned the field.

The creatures present were still within manageable levels.

No Hive Tyrants.

No monstrous creatures requiring tanks or superheavy weaponry.

A brutal but fair challenge.

Battle was joined.

Warriors dodged, weaved, and struck with practiced skill.

Some were exceptional.

One warrior, disarmed during the fight, still managed to wrestle and kill a Tyranid Warrior with his bare hands—

—though he was left severely wounded, one eye lost.

Yet he stood proudly, howling his triumph.

The spectators cheered madly.

Eden applauded.

"Impressive," he murmured.

Beside him, Tako discreetly recorded the warrior's identity.

Next, Eden focused on Prince Salo.

The young prince was stealthily moving deeper into the arena.

The priests buzzed with excitement.

"By the Savior's grace, Prince Salo is targeting a Sand Serpent!" they announced.

One of the arena's most powerful beasts.

The crowd erupted into roars.

King Kairn XVII beamed with pride.

His son was walking the same glorious path.

In the arena—

A colossal Sand Serpent burst from the ground, flinging sand high into the air.

Salo narrowly dodged the deadly strike, showing no fear.

Calmness was key.

Against Tyranids, a single mistake meant death.

The prince timed his movements perfectly, striking at weak points,

blinding the beast with a well-placed shot to the eye.

Slowly, methodically, he wore it down.

After ten grueling minutes—

Salo, bloodied but victorious, slew the Sand Serpent.

Dragging its massive head, he made his way back toward the altar.

Midway—

—a pack of swiftbone bugs emerged, blocking his path.

Tense silence gripped the stands.

Salo was exhausted.

But—

Astonishingly, the bugs hesitated.

Then retreated.

Eden sensed the subtle reason.

Salo, after slaying a powerful Tyranid, carried its pheromones.

To the lesser bugs, he now smelled like a predator.

A king.

Watching the entire scene unfold, Eden smiled in satisfaction.

There was no doubt now.

The Danusians were the ultimate anti-Tyranid warriors.

Over centuries of brutal conflict, they had honed every technique, every instinct.

Their culture of relentless battle had forged them into something extraordinary.

Losses were accepted as natural.

Only the strong survived.

Only the worthy claimed glory.

Some families had spent generations hunting a single monster for honor.

It was a spirit Eden deeply respected.

It was, after all, the spirit of humanity itself.

Adapt.

Fight.

Endure.

This was how humanity survived the hell of the galaxy.

In the future—

when Danus fully joined his domain—

Eden would arm them with even greater weapons.

Not just to fight on Danus.

But to hunt Tyranids across the stars.

As the sun set, the trial finally concluded.

The survivors, bloodied and battered, marched toward the Temple to receive their honors.

Eden followed at a distance.

Near the Temple stood the ancient monastery of the Sons of Man.

Only those deemed worthy to become Angels were permitted to set foot inside.

For Eden—

no such restrictions applied.

Security systems recognized him as Savior;

no doors barred his passage.

He toured the ruins briefly.

As expected—

Big Barrel had taken everything valuable before leaving.

No gene-seed or major artifacts remained.

Stepping back outside, Eden accepted the homage of King Kairn XVII and the high priests.

Danus was now officially under his protection.

He sent word to the appropriate departments to begin basic integration—

but otherwise decided to leave things untouched until Big Barrel's return.

After all, Big Barrel had spent nearly a thousand years nurturing this world.

It was only right to wait for his voice.

...

Starry Night.

Dreamweaver.

In a miniature garden aboard the ship, Eden reclined in a rocking chair, gazing up at the stars.

He sighed deeply.

"Big Barrel... where are you now?"

Two centuries ago, the Sons of Man had left Danus through a mysterious rift.

Since then—

no word.

Scratching his head, Eden had the nagging feeling he was missing something.

...

Meanwhile—

Underworld Sector.

At the system's edge,

the stars burned crimson.

A rogue merchant vessel emerged from a Warp passage, stabilizing in orbit.

On the bridge, the rogue trader gasped for air.

"Finally escaped those damn Chaos freaks…"

A few days ago, he had barely escaped a Chaos raid during a black-market run.

Now, reaching this governor's world, he thought he was safe.

Until—

He froze.

Terror gripped his heart.

His blood ran cold.

Before him—

The once-blue planet was now nothing but a lifeless, barren husk.

No signs of life remained.

Only desolation.

(End of Chapter)

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