The night air in the quiet outskirts of the city was thick with the scent of recent rain on asphalt and distant jasmine from someone's garden. Streetlights flickered overhead in that unreliable yellow-orange glow, casting long, stuttering shadows across the cracked sidewalk. Yichen walked slowly, hands in the pockets of his worn hoodie, boots scuffing softly against the damp concrete. His cock was already half-hard inside his boxers — a familiar, throbbing weight that pressed insistently against the fabric with every step. It wasn't random. It never was. His mind had slipped, as it always did on these lonely walks home, straight into MILF heaven.
He could almost see her right now — the nameless, perfect mature goddess he'd been fantasizing about for weeks. Late thirties, maybe early forties. A soft, voluptuous body that had been loved and lived in. Massive, heavy H-cup tits that hung full and pendulous, swaying hypnotically with every breath, the kind of milk-laden breasts that overflowed even the biggest bras. Dark, thick nipples already stiff and begging, leaking tiny beads of sweet milk if you sucked hard enough. Below that, a wide, fertile waist flaring into an enormous, juicy ass — two massive, pillow-soft globes that jiggled and clapped loudly when you fucked her from behind, the kind of fat ass that rippled like water with every thrust. And between those thunderous thighs… her dripping wet pink pussy. God, that pussy. Puffy outer lips glistening with arousal, parting to reveal slick, bright-pink inner folds that quivered and clenched visibly. A fat, swollen clit peeking out, begging to be sucked. Clear, sweet nectar already stringing down her inner thighs in shiny, sticky strands, the scent thick and heady — warm feminine musk mixed with a hint of sweet honey and something uniquely mature, intoxicating. He could taste it on his tongue right now in his mind: tangy-sweet, creamy, flooding his mouth as he buried his face between those thick thighs and devoured her for hours.
Yichen's cock twitched hard, thickening further, the fat head nudging against his thigh and leaving a warm smear of pre-cum inside his boxers. He groaned quietly under his breath, imagining the sounds she'd make — breathy, desperate MILF moans turning into full-throated cries as he licked long, slow stripes up her dripping slit, sucking that swollen clit between his lips while his hands kneaded those massive, heavy tits, fingers sinking deep into soft, yielding flesh. He'd spread her fat ass cheeks wide, tongue-fucking that tight pink hole until she gushed all over his face, her juices running down his chin in hot, sticky rivers. Then he'd stand up, line up his thick cock, and slide into that velvet-smooth, soaking-wet mature cunt inch by inch, feeling her walls flutter and grip him like a loving vice, milking him as she screamed his name and came so hard her pussy squirted around his shaft.
His breathing had grown heavier. The streetlights blurred slightly as his pulse quickened. Another fantasy layered on — a different MILF this time, maybe a busty single mom he'd seen at the supermarket once, bending over in tight yoga pants. That colossal ass stretching the fabric, the seam disappearing between those cheeks. He imagined peeling those pants down, burying his face in that warm, soft ass, licking and sucking every drop of her dripping arousal while her heavy tits hung down and swayed like ripe fruit. The taste, the scent, the way her pussy would clench and gush when he finally pushed his cock inside — slow, deep strokes at first, savoring every ripple and squeeze of those experienced walls until he was balls-deep and she was begging for more.
Yichen's cock was now fully hard, straining painfully against his pants, the thick shaft throbbing with every heartbeat, pre-cum steadily leaking and soaking through. His balls felt heavy, full, aching to unload rope after thick rope of cum deep into a willing MILF womb. He was so lost in the fantasy that the world around him had faded to nothing but the wet sounds of imagined pussy, the slap of heavy tits, the scent of aroused mature cunt filling his nose.
Then it happened.
A blinding flash of headlights from the side street.
A deafening truck horn — long, urgent, blaring like the end of the world.
Tires screeching on wet asphalt.
Metal screaming as the massive vehicle lost control on the slick road.
Yichen's head snapped up too late.
The grill of the truck filled his vision for a single frozen heartbeat — chrome gleaming under the streetlights, raindrops still clinging to it.
Impact.
Bone-crushing force slammed into his entire body at once. Pain exploded everywhere — white-hot, blinding, tearing through his chest, his ribs, his skull. The wet crunch of bones breaking. The sickening sensation of his body being lifted and flung like a ragdoll. Air rushed past his ears. Then the pavement. Another brutal impact, skull cracking against concrete. Blood flooded his mouth, metallic and warm. Darkness rushed in from the edges of his vision, swallowing everything.
Blackness. Absolute nothing.
Then… light.
Pure, endless white. No floor, no ceiling, no walls. Just an infinite, featureless void that somehow felt warm and welcoming instead of terrifying. Yichen's eyes fluttered open — or at least, the sensation of opening eyes returned. His body felt strangely weightless, floating. The pain was gone. Completely gone. Replaced by a tingling warmth spreading through every cell.
A calm, genderless voice echoed softly all around him, gentle and reassuring, like a long-lost friend speaking directly into his soul.
"The traveler was never abandoned by their hometown; the gifts from their homeland allowed Yichen to bind to the character template system."
A glowing blue panel materialized in front of him, holographic and perfectly crisp, floating at eye level. Golden text shimmered across it.
[Character Template System – Binding Complete]
[Available Inclination Choices:]
• Standard Hero Template
• Villain Overlord Template
• Summoner Support Template
• Exclusive Personal Template – Shadow Monarch (Classified as King)
Yichen stared at the panel, mind still hazy but sharpening fast. The words "Shadow Monarch" pulsed with raw power. Something deep inside him — some primal, dominant instinct — surged forward. He didn't even read the others fully. His voice came out steady, hungry, certain.
"This one. Exclusive Personal Template."
The moment the words left his lips, the panel shattered into golden light that poured into his body like liquid fire. Power — unimaginable, endless power — flooded every vein, every nerve, every muscle. His body began to change.
He grew. Bones lengthened with audible, painless cracks, stretching him from 5'10" to a towering 6'4". Muscles swelled and carved themselves into perfect, sculpted definition — broad shoulders, thick pecs, rippling abs, powerful arms and thighs. His skin tightened, became flawless, radiating a subtle, seductive glow. Between his legs, his already-hard cock throbbed violently and grew heavier, thicker, longer — veins pulsing along the massive shaft, the head flaring wider, balls swelling fuller and heavier with potent seed. A wave of pure dominant charisma rolled off him in invisible waves, the kind that would make any mature woman's nipples harden instantly and her mature pink pussy flood with slick arousal the second she looked at him.
Knowledge poured into his mind like a torrent. Shadow Extraction. Monarch's Domain. Infinite shadow army raised from the slain. Dimensional steps between worlds. Superhuman strength, speed, regeneration, stamina — endless, tireless fucking stamina. He felt like a god. A king. The Shadow Monarch King.
The voice returned, warm with approval.
"Template bound. Shadow Monarch classification solidified as King. First world loading… Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress."
The white void dissolved around him in swirling shadows. The air grew cold and metallic, heavy with the stench of blood, smoke, and rotting flesh. His bare feet touched something soft and yielding. A mountain of fresh corpses — twisted human and monstrous bodies piled high. Kabane. The undead horde from the anime.
Yichen rose slowly, deliberately, from the tide of death. Black shadows erupted outward from his body in living tendrils, forming razor-sharp blades, spears, and armored soldiers that surged forward in a silent, unstoppable wave. The nearest Kabane lunged with a guttural shriek — only to be sliced into twitching pieces before it could even touch him. More shadows exploded outward, slaughtering dozens in seconds. The air filled with the wet sounds of tearing flesh and the metallic tang of fresh blood.
He stood atop the corpse mountain, tall, powerful, naked and glorious, his massive cock still half-hard and glistening in the firelight of the distant burning fortress. The Shadow Monarch King had arrived.
And somewhere in that steel fortress, a busty, big-assed, dripping-wet MILF engineer named Haruka had no idea what was coming for her perfect pink pussy.