Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor

The cell door opened.

An interrogator stepped inside, secured the restraints on the Fleet Commander, and led him to the interrogation chamber.

Sitting on the mechanical torture chair, a faint, cold smile crept across the Fleet Commander's terrified face.

He knew that damned planetary governor was coming for him again.

The Fleet Commander was fully aware of his inevitable death.

In such a situation, he would neither hope for nor allow anyone to get their hands on his hidden treasures.

Especially the precious merchant license he had painstakingly stolen after slaughtering the entire Govindi family.

Of course, in the process, he had committed certain unspeakable acts against the family's women.

To lash out at the noble Imperial merchant bloodline had been an unparalleled pleasure.

After plundering the Govindi family, he orchestrated an "accidental" air crash to silence his accomplices and keep the treasure for himself.

The thought of the governor getting his hands on his hard-earned prize filled him with rage.

Thus, when the governor arrived, he would be "forced" to reveal the vault's unique passcode—luring the fool into a deadly trap.

This would be his final act of revenge, ensuring he died without regrets.

"Damn fool," the Fleet Commander muttered under his breath.

Eden entered the interrogation chamber briskly, his tone impatient.

"Have you thought it through? Quickly, tell me the passcode to the vault!"

The Fleet Commander figured the governor must have found the vault.

Putting on a resolute face, he replied, "Unless you pardon me, I'd rather die than tell you the code..."

He needed to act convincingly, dispelling any doubts the governor might have, and baiting him into the trap.

Pardon? He scoffed internally.

In the hands of his enemy, his life hung by a thread. Even if the governor promised him a pardon, he would likely renege on it in an instant.

After all, during the massacre of the Govindi family, he had promised to spare their remaining bloodline if they surrendered the license.

They all died anyway.

Eden asked again, "Are you really not going to talk?"

The Fleet Commander remained steadfast, shaking his head in silence.

He suppressed a smirk, ready to endure a bit of torture before revealing the "secret" to make it seem genuine.

"Sigh, such a steadfast man..." Eden sighed deeply, then turned to the interrogator.

"It seems we won't get anything from him. Kill him."

What?!

The situation was far from what the Fleet Commander had anticipated!

Seeing the interrogator raise an electric torture gun, ready to pull the trigger, the Fleet Commander panicked.

"Wait! I'll talk! The special passcode is—"

"I don't want to hear it."

Eden interrupted coldly, gesturing for the interrogator to gag the Fleet Commander.

He didn't understand—why?

Had the governor lost his mind?

Overwhelmed by the fear of death, tears and snot streamed down the Fleet Commander's face. He struggled desperately, but no words came out.

Regret consumed him. Why hadn't he revealed the passcode earlier?

Eden smirked coldly.

"Uncomfortable, aren't you? Good. That's the point."

He had been playing along the entire time.

Eden already knew the Fleet Commander's plan—to use the passcode to set a trap.

Unbeknownst to the Fleet Commander, the vault had already been emptied.

Eden leaned in close.

"Want to know why?"

The Fleet Commander nodded furiously, desperate for answers, even if it meant death.

But all he got was:

"I'm not telling you."

The Fleet Commander's struggles grew frantic.

Eden, unfazed, turned and left the chamber.

The interrogator injected a serum into the Fleet Commander—a drug designed to amplify physical and mental agony.

Then, they connected the electric torture gun to the chair.

Intense currents coursed through his body, inflicting unbearable pain.

The greater torment, however, was mental.

Riddled with endless regret, curiosity, and despair, the Fleet Commander would meet his end consumed by these emotions.

Why? Tell me!

He screamed internally as death closed in.

He would never get an answer.

Let him suffer.

It was what he deserved.

Outside the interrogation room, Sahim covered his sister's eyes, watching their enemy with hatred.

Ultimately, the Fleet Commander perished in anguish, his body reduced to charred remains.

"Let's go..."

Eden picked up the siblings and carried them out of the room.

Inside, the interrogators continued questioning other captured officers.

This operation had resulted in nearly two million prisoners.

Officers ranked lieutenant or higher would be executed.

Ordinary soldiers and crew members would be distributed across the planet for labor, contributing to Urth's construction.

Depending on their performance, they could eventually gain civilian status.

...

Two weeks later.

In the Tower Manor, an expanded and luxurious bathhouse...

Thumping DJ music filled the air.

"Blade rises to settle grudges, sleeves brushing under moonlight, the west wind scatters petals, resting on knives and swords brings no peace..."

On stage, lights flashed as a troupe of top-tier beauties from various planets performed an energetic dance.

"Ah, this damned but familiar feeling..."

Eden stretched lazily in contentment.

Taking off his sunglasses, he sat up and sipped juice from a nearby glass.

Since returning from the spaceport, he had settled the batch of top-tier beauties from the population transport ship.

Most were assigned to the Order of Battle Sisters under the leadership of the virtuous Maya.

The rest joined various groups within the Tower Manor—dance troupes, secretarial staff, or maid teams—to maintain its operations.

Watching the mesmerizing dancers, Eden couldn't help but sigh.

For the Empire's sake, he would silently endure this "burden."

(End of Chapter)

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