Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor

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The torpedo-like drop pods descended steadily, their base-mounted thrusters suddenly igniting to slow their descent.

Boom!

A pod slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Nearby, a pack of mutated coyotes noticed the strange object. Drooling and crouched low, they crept toward the pod.

In this desolate wilderness, few scavengers escaped the pursuit of these predators.

Moments later, the pod's hatch unlocked and slowly opened.

The pack leader, smelling fresh meat, bared its fangs and leapt inside.

Howl!

A terrible yelp followed, and the lead coyote was sent flying out, landing several meters away.

Someone inside had kicked it out with brutal force.

The pack leader struggled to its feet, clearly injured. Its snout was dented, and several teeth were missing.

Anger burned in its eyes.

No human scavenger had ever harmed it like this!

Summoning its pack, the leader prepared to attack again.

But as the coyotes charged the hatch, beams of laser fire erupted from within, striking them down one by one.

The leader's head was scorched black by the searing rays, and it collapsed to the ground with a whimper.

From the pod emerged a missionary saint in a gray-and-white hooded robe.

Lifting his hood, he revealed a bald head inscribed with holy runes.

The saint's name was Fran, one of the most devout and exceptional missionaries from the holy city of Ereda.

His people held high hopes for him, believing he could spread the Savior's light to even the farthest corners of the galaxy.

Pressing the Holy Redeemer's Codex to his chest, Fran gazed at the towering steel hive city on the horizon.

That was Martila's primary hive city—his mission field.

Taking out a handheld navigation device, Fran measured the distance to the hive.

Though it appeared close, it was at least 2,000 kilometers away.

There was no choice.

To avoid orbital defense systems and hive city anti-air arrays, the pods had to land far from the cities.

Without first disrupting or disabling these defenses, any pod approaching the hive would be obliterated.

Like Fran, 800 missionaries from Ereda were scattered across Martila's desolate regions.

Fran returned to the pod and strapped on the backpack provided by the holy city.

Inside were a portable water condenser, compressed food supplies, and various tools for survival and spreading the faith.

Dismantling the pod's door, Fran repurposed it into a crude iron sled.

Using a knife, he skinned the mutated coyotes, piling their meat onto the sled.

With everything prepared, he began his arduous journey toward the hive city.

The trek would be grueling.

Fran needed to traverse nearly 2,000 kilometers of wasteland to reach the city's outskirts, where he could devise a way to infiltrate it and spread the Savior's faith.

It would take a long time, but he had time to spare.

Looking at the distant hive city, a fervent light shone in his eyes.

"Eight years from now, the Savior will descend upon this world to deliver its people from suffering!"

Not long after Fran set out, more mutated coyotes, drawn by the scent of blood, gathered around the pod.

Once Fran was a safe distance away, the pod's self-destruct mechanism activated.

Detecting the approaching threats, the pod exploded violently, its shrapnel killing many of the predators.

Terrified by the explosion, the surviving coyotes scattered into the wilderness.

Hiss!

A gray-black serpent bared its fangs, ready to strike.

But in the next instant, Fran drove a sharp knife into its head.

"Praise the Savior! Thank you for this gift!"

Grabbing the snake, Fran rejoiced.

Its flesh would provide him with precious water and protein.

After severing the head, Fran drank its blood to quench his thirst.

His face bore several scars, and his body was marked by numerous wounds.

Months of trekking through the wasteland, enduring monster attacks and harsh conditions, had taken their toll.

An ordinary human would never have survived this long.

The irradiated environment and parasite-infested food would have killed anyone not genetically enhanced.

But Fran was no ordinary human.

He was Eredan.

Though classified as abhuman by Eden, the Eredans were descendants of the cunning and carried traces of Tyranid genes, granting them superior endurance and survival capabilities.

Their nanite silicon implants further protected them by shielding against radiation, storing heat, and even extracting trace amounts of moisture from the air.

Even with these advantages, Fran was nearing his limit.

If he didn't find a human settlement soon, he might not survive.

As despair began to creep in, the ground trembled faintly beneath Fran's feet.

The vibrations grew stronger, causing pebbles to bounce on the ground.

Hooooot!

A long whistle pierced the air as a massive steel train, towering 4-5 meters high, came into view.

It sped toward the hive city, a mechanical behemoth cutting through the wasteland.

This was Martila's Titan Train, used to transport supplies and troops between the hive cities.

"Praise the Savior!"

Fran sprinted toward the train, hoping to board and hasten his journey to the hive.

But he wasn't fast enough.

The train roared past, its wake knocking him to the ground and leaving behind a thick plume of black smoke.

Undeterred, Fran showed no sign of frustration or anger at the missed opportunity.

Missionaries like him were unwavering and serene, their faith enabling them to endure failure and danger with resolve.

Picking himself up, Fran continued along the tracks.

He believed following the rails would lead him to a human settlement.

After all, the train would need to stop for resupply along the way.

When he reached such a point, he could stow away on the train and enter the hive city.

Train Town.

This small settlement, isolated in the wasteland, housed tens of thousands of people.

As a maintenance point for the Titan Train, the town's economy revolved around servicing the massive machine.

Repair workers boarded the train to inspect and fix any issues with the help of the Tech-Priests.

In return, the train provided the town with water, food, and fuel cells—resources critical for survival.

However, the intervals between train arrivals had grown longer due to rebel sabotage of the tracks.

As a result, the town's resources were dwindling.

While residents could hunt in the wasteland for food, solving the water shortage was far more challenging.

The town's water source was heavily polluted, causing sickness when consumed.

They relied on the purified water brought by the train, supplied by the Hive City Water Purification Association.

Though the water quality had deteriorated—cloudy and foul-smelling—it was still drinkable.

But with the train's visits becoming rarer, the town's people were left thirsty and desperate, praying for its return.

At long last, the Titan Train arrived.

The repair workers eagerly boarded, only to be told by the Water Purification Association that their water supply contract had been terminated.

The town had lost its lifeline—precious, life-sustaining water.

(End of Chapter)

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