Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor Chapter 214 - 215: Fulgrim: I’m So Jealous of That Man! The

Exquisite palaces rose from the swollen, fleshy landscape, their decadent beauty both enticing and unsettling.

These magnificent structures stood in endless rows, forming a vast paradise of excess.

In the outer courts, humans and daemons entwined in pleasure and indulgence.

So draped themselves in gold and silver.

So devoured lavish feasts.

So wielded scepters, laughing maniacally as they reveled in their power.

So basked in the praises and adulation of the writhing daemonic hordes.

And in the lush, green fields, others imrsed themselves in unending carnal bliss.

Yet after their pleasures, ca tornt—and still, they relished it with twisted delight.

Through it all, the music of hellish symphonies filled the air, mingling with cries of pleasure and pain.

This was Slaanesh's paradise, where every sensation of the mortal world converged.

Corruption. Desire. Hedonism. Indulgence.

All of it belonged to the Dark Prince of Excess.

The Ring of Lust

A pale-skinned, golden-haired young man awoke, panic flashing across his face.

"Where the hell is this? Soone co here now! I'm the son of the Planetary Governor—who dares to plot against ?!"

"Co out! If you don't, you're all dead! None of you will survive!"

"Oh? You called for ?"

A cold yet regal voice answered.

From the shadows erged a queenly figure, her sheer silk garnts clinging to her voluptuous form.

A re glance at her subli beauty was enough to ignite an overwhelming hunger in anyone's heart.

Step by step, she approached the confused golden-haired youth, leaning in to whisper in his ear:

"Let us drown in pleasure together... Experience a blissful nightmare beyond your wildest imagination. An eternal dream of ecstasy..."

"Co... enjoy it with ."

The young man's eyes glazed over, his voice trembling:

"Yes... my Queen..."

And soon, he was lost.

His body warped and twisted, turning into a grotesque daemon of Chaos before the transformation was complete.

Had Eden witnessed this, he would have recognized the scene imdiately.

He had sworn to return here one day.

To avenge his humiliation!

But alas, his strength was still lacking.

If he barged in recklessly, he'd probably end up as one of Slaanesh's playthings, dragged into the Dark Prince's bedchamber for all manner of unspeakable acts.

The Palace of Delights

At the heart of Slaanesh's domain, six circular sub-realms encircled a magnificent central temple.

This was the Pleasure Palace of Slaanesh.

Here, the Dark Prince and his chosen favorites indulged in endless rapture.

The palace's grandeur was beyond imagination.

Pink-hued mists drifted through the air, carrying intoxicating fragrances.

Gems, like twinkling stars, adorned the halls, while ancient frescoes and sculptures whispered forbidden tales of desire.

The floors were covered in plush, flesh-like pink carpets, so soft that stepping upon them felt like walking on clouds.

A dreamlike realm, both enchanting and terrifying.

Among the tangled masses of daemons wailing in ecstasy, one serpentine form stood out.

A long purple-and-pink-scaled body, lined with delicate, shimring wings, coiled upon itself.

Its upper half, however, was humanoid—four-ard, tall, and unnervingly beautiful.

It was a daemonic prince, its flowing silver hair cascading down its back.

Its heavily adorned, unnaturally perfect face bore eyes of deep, glowing pink, radiating an aura of seductive malice.

Even in his twisted, mutated form, he was the most handso among the daemons.

He was once the most glamorous warrior in the galaxy, the ultimate beauty among the Primarchs—

The Fallen Phoenix himself—Fulgrim.

A connoisseur of luxury, artistry, and perfection, Fulgrim adored lavish garnts and elaborate makeup.

As he carefully adjusted his extravagant robes, ensuring every detail was flawless, he prepared to grace the presence of his master.

Just then—

A mysterious liquid splattered onto his face.

His serene expression instantly darkened.

Fury surged through him as he turned sharply.

Beside him, the grotesque and hideously scarred form of Lucius the Eternal was indulging in his twisted pleasures, consuming so unknown substance while basking in both agony and bliss.

Fulgrim's eyes narrowed in disgust.

"You ugly wretch! You've ruined my elegance!"

Even his curse sounded like a lodic song.

With a graceful yet lethal motion, he drew his shimring daemonic blades, their edges gleaming with an unholy radiance, and struck down Lucius.

The blades were unstoppable.

After all, Fulgrim was one of the most powerful Primarchs in existence—a legendary duelist whose combat prowess was terrifying beyond asure.

He was the undisputed king of one-on-one battles among the Primarchs.

In single combat, he had personally beheaded his closest brother, Ferrus Manus, the Tenth Primarch.

Later, he had fought Guilliman, leaving him comatose for ten thousand years, trapped within the sanctuary of the Ultramarines.

SLASH!

Fulgrim's blade severed Lucius into several pieces, his twisted body writhing on the floor as countless screaming faces erged from the severed flesh.

Yet within monts, Lucius reford, sighing in perverse pleasure.

As Slaanesh's chosen champion, he was cursed with eternal resurrection, finding rapture in every death.

Fulgrim, uninterested in dealing with such filth, turned away.

He pulled out a mirror, carefully reapplying his makeup, admiring his peerless reflection.

He was the most handso and charismatic being in the galaxy.

Or so he believed.

Then, he lifted his gaze toward the throne at the heart of the palace.

There, lounging lazily, was a magnificent, otherworldly form cloaked in pink mist.

The sheer presence of this being exuded an intoxicating allure, enough to drive any creature to madness.

It was none other than the Dark Prince of Excess, Slaanesh.

Fulgrim smiled elegantly, ensuring he was at his most dazzling, then cast his gaze toward his master's throne.

But then—his expression froze.

His master's gaze was fixated on another man!

Floating above the throne, a projection displayed an image—

Wild black hair. Towering, muscular physique. A monstrous suit of armor. The terrifying sight of daemons being devoured.

A presence that radiated an untad, primal magnetism.

An aura of raw dominance and power.

This was the new nightmare of Chaos.

The Savior. The Devourer of Daemons. The Void Storm. The Accursed One's Chosen. The One Whom Daemons Fear.

Or simply...

That Man.

"Unforgivable!"

Fulgrim's face twisted.

His usual grace and poise vanished, replaced by a raging inferno of jealousy.

"Who is this bastard?!"

Was he so illegitimate child of the False Emperor?!

The thought alone made Fulgrim's blood boil.

Even if Fulgrim had to reluctantly admit that the man did possess a certain appeal—

He was still nowhere near as beautiful as himself!

Yet deep down, Fulgrim felt a looming threat.

This man was challenging his position.

And worst of all—

His master was still staring at him.

Even Fulgrim had never received such attention.

His fists clenched tightly.

"Savior, just you wait... The Great Phoenix will show you who the real man is!"

He vowed to destroy that man.

To erase his soul from existence.

To ensure that he would never steal Slaanesh's favor!

(End of Chapter)

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