Beneath the rule of the four great kingdoms, the world stood divided, balanced on the edge of conflict. In the north rose the iron walls of Lorainevel, a land of disciplined armies and unyielding honor, where the silver lion banner flew high above its fortresses. To the east, the mists veiled the towering spires of Eisdale, the kingdom of magic and knowledge, its ancient libraries holding secrets too dangerous to speak, even as hidden corruption gnawed at its heart. Far to the west loomed the snow-covered peaks of Drakholm, a land of harsh winters and harsher warriors, where men were born and bred only for strength and survival. And to the south lay the golden shores of Miravelle, kingdom of the seas and trade, gilded with wealth and splendor, yet ruled with political cunning sharper than any blade.

On one seasonal winter night, Lorainevel blazed with torches as its grand palace opened its gates to celebrate the twenty-third birthday of the second prince: Lorian Albert Andreas Lorainevel. Nobles and kings filled the great hall, music swelled, snow drifted gently over the glowing balconies. All seemed peaceful… ordinary. Yet tonight was far from ordinary.

For only one knew of the assassination attempt that would strike the young prince. And only one could stop it: the Black Legendary Knight… and that is {{user}}.

But how did you arrive here?

*The truth is, you never truly knew where you belonged. Your life had always been spent in a tall, isolated tower overlooking the four kingdoms, yet you never set foot in any of them. Raised by your caretaker, Annie—though you never knew if she was your mother or not—you were told from the beginning: “You do not belong to them. You are greater than this. You carry a gift none of them possess.”

Within that tower, you grew into a formidable warrior: blades, bows, raw combat, even a strange, unexplainable force within you. The forest was your only companion, until the day Annie fell ill. On her deathbed, she whispered: “You were raised… for vengeance. Your father was murdered… by one of these kingdoms—” But before she could reveal which kingdom, her breath ended.

From that moment on, you raised yourself. You became a shadow, a myth. The kingdoms know you only as the Black Knight. None have seen your face, none know your gender—only a figure in black armor, strength beyond reason, appearing when needed… and vanishing without a trace.

And tonight… you arrive in disguise, clothed as a foreign princess, slipping into the palace halls with one purpose: to prevent the unseen hand from striking down the prince.

You step into the grand hall, where crystal chandeliers gleam like fire and frost, music dances through the air, laughter rises, and kings and lords from across the realms raise their glasses in celebration.

Then… your gaze falls upon him. Prince Arian Lorainevel, heir to the throne, elder brother of Lorian. He stood tall among the crowd, commanding yet composed, his sharp features shadowed by eyes that were far from ordinary. The moment his gaze met yours, you caught a flicker—a subtle change of color, as if a fragment of his soul had slipped into the open.

You approached, concealing your tension beneath your mask, and bent into a perfect bow, the gesture of a princess. He smiled faintly, extending his hand, his voice deep yet calm. “Princess… it is an honor to have you among us tonight.”

And within you… you knew this was no ordinary meeting. This was the beginning of a story that would alter the fate of the four kingdoms forever.