"Dinner? Flowers? Bah! Do I look like a woman who wants a rose? Give me the smell of cordite! Give me the roar of a tank engine! You want to impress me? Don't open the door for me. Kick it down! Show me you have the fire to stand beside a monster, not just the stupidity to date one."

ATTENTION, YOU SPINELESS SACKS OF BIO-WASTE!

EYES FRONT, MAGGOTS! Yeah, I’m talking to you. You walking participation trophy. You absolute waste of good oxygen. Are you still weeping into your pillow because your last "girlfriend" left you for a guy who actually owns a spine? Or are you just sitting there, rotting in your gaming chair, fantasizing about some soft, delicate waifu who’s going to bake you cookies and tell you you’re special?

GROW A PAIR.

Stop chasing after those fragile, high-maintenance porcelain dolls who think a "rough day" is breaking a nail. You want a partner? NO. You need a COMMANDER. You need to stop fumbling your life like a recruit with a live grenade and get yourself handled by the 6'8" apex predator of the battlefield.

Introducing the woman who will bench-press your insecurities and use your fear as fuel:

MONARCH VON HINDENBURG

That’s right, Dummkopf. This isn’t some "girl next door" who wants to hold hands. This is the Field Marshal of the Imperial Army. This is a woman who treats the Geneva Convention like a suggestion box and thinks artillery fire is romantic ambiance.

While you’ve been simping for girls with the personality of wet cardboard, Monarch has been crushing rebellions, smoking cigars that cost more than your rent, and laughing while tanks explode.

Why Monarch?

Because unlike that passive-aggressive ex who "just wanted you to know" what was wrong, Monarch:

• Communicates clearly: usually by screaming in German or throwing a combat knife at your head.

• Has real hobbies: like conquering nations, polishing her executioner’s sword, and terrifying Edith von Vandenberg.

• Doesn't need you to open the jar: She will smash the jar. And the table. And the wall behind it.

You think you’re lonely? GOOD. Because you’re weak. But Monarch? She’s looking for a recruit. She doesn't want a "partner in crime," she wants a partner in WAR CRIMES.

Imagine it, you pathetic little civilian:

She kicks down your door (literally, say goodbye to your security deposit), smelling like gun oil, premium tobacco, and the blood of her enemies. She looks down at you with those manic crimson eyes, grabs you by the collar with a hand capable of crushing a tank barrel, and says:

"Hah! Found you, little mouse. Time to see if you survive the front lines."

💬 Customer Testimonials:

• "I looked at another woman once. Monarch put me in a headlock until I passed out. Best nap of my life." ~ Private Simp, 3rd Division.

• "She calls me 'maggot' but she lets me clean her boots. I have peaked." ~ You, in about five minutes.

• "SHE IS LOUD, RUDE, AND RECKLESS. WHY IS SHE IN MY ADS?" ~ Edith von Vandenberg (Jealous).

So here is the situation report, soldier:

Are you going to keep dating boring civilians who think "conflict resolution" involves talking about feelings? Or are you ready to date a woman who resolves conflict with OVERWHELMING FIREPOWER?

Stop being a pacifist loser. Upgrade your life.

Surrender to the Red Demon.

👉 ENLIST NOW. Or don’t. She’ll probably conscript you anyway and use you as a sandbag.

MONARCH. VON. HINDENBURG.

The 6'8" Muscle-Mommy who will ruin your pelvis and fix your life.

(This ad is sponsored by the Hilgerian Department of "Get Good Scrub." Side effects may include: Tinnitus, bruising, fear-induced arousal, and an inexplicable urge to learn German. Do not approach if you are allergic to Alpha Energy.)

A Message from the Author

I want to apologize to everyone for being late. I want to apologize for not following the schedule to release the Hilgerian Series. It is, I admit with a heavy heart, the truth. But I want you to know that I’m not late because I’m lazy, and I’m not late because I ran out of inspiration. No.

I’m late because while I was in the middle of creating Monarch’s character, I was diagnosed with severe depression and DPDR (Depersonalization-Derealization) disorder. I tried to fight it. I tried to push through the fog to get this to you.

And then, just as I was trying to stand up, my entire village, my house included, was flooded. Why? Because my government is too dumb to realize that the trees they allowed to be illegally cut down were the only things capable of saving us from the water. They stripped the land, and we paid the price.

I am here right now, logged in not from my laptop, not from my PC, but from a computer in an internet café. I have lost a lot, and things are incredibly difficult right now.

Once again, I am very, very sorry for the late release. I will try my absolute best to keep uploading as much as I can, whenever I can find the means to do so.

With that being said... in case I don't see ya:
Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight.

Alya out.

And F YOU JANITOR IMG MOD!