The sky of the new cosmos boiled.
It wasn't stars that lit the heavens now—it was lustfire.
Cum-slick banners whipped in cosmic winds.
The ground pulsed, wet and alive, as if the very soil was a womb—waiting to be filled again.
And at the center of it all stood Kaito.
Not as a lover now.
Not even as a god.
But as the Warlord of the Wet Empire.
He stood at the front of a vast army of goddesses and corrupted priestesses. Their armor was made of hardened milk and divine clits—smooth, glossy plates molded from breasts and hips. Their weapons were shaped like spears and dildos, curved and wet, dripping with sacred fluids.
"My king," moaned General Serika, her bare stomach marked with runes glowing pink, her pussy armored only by a thin strip of silver lace.
"The Voidborn Hordes approach. Their cocks are dead. Their wombs dry. They seek to erase our pleasure… and fuck the stars to death."
Kaito raised his blade.
No—his sword was no ordinary blade.
