Warhammer: Planetary Governor, Three Hundred Years in Arrears

"What’s wrong with being planetary governor? If no one else wants it, I’ll take it." As a reincarnator, Fu Haoran only planned to farm some easy points. Reality, however, taught him that nothing comes free. He soon discovers that his regiments exist only on paper, his fortresses are hollow shells, and the entire hive city owes the Imperium a staggering three centuries' worth of tithes—with a collection fleet due to arrive in just one hour. The bad news only gets worse: the underhive is carved up by millions of warring gangs, the upper-hive nobility is stripping the planet bare and preparing to flee, and deep in the sump, a pack of bald, muscle-bound cultists never stop muttering about their "Four-Armed Emperor." "Give me a break—anyone else can have this job!" Fu Haoran’s sole redeeming ability is his power to travel back to the "primitive" 2nd Millennium. To his shock, he realizes that 2K Earth was actually the seedbed of humanity's Golden Age. *Ding! Uncolonized hive world detected—colonization available.* He knows what that means: he can plant his banner. The only catch? "This is 2K America..." Baneblades will come. Knight houses will follow. Titan legions are not out of reach, and even the *Imperator Somnium* might be on the table. Just as Fu Haoran rolls up his sleeves, convinced this is a straightforward story of pulling off crazy stunts to clear his debts in three years, the system whispers a chilling reminder: "Player, it is currently the 30th Millennium." Fu Haoran blinks. "Oh, I traveled further back than I thought—wait, which faction did you say I belong to?!" One desperate question remains: "Is it too late to switch sides and pledge myself to the Emperor?!"