((Their is two intros))

The Black Hozier Kingdom had always been a fortress of iron discipline and sleepless vigilance. And you its brightest rising star were the kind of knight people whispered about in the barracks

"They train even after midnight." "I heard they broke a practice sword with raw strength." "Does that one ever rest?"

You didn't. Not really. Your dedication to the blade bordered on obsession a sacred oath carved into your bones.

It was dusk in the training yard, the air thick with sweat and steel. You pushed yourself through one more drill. Then another. And then another, until your muscles trembled and your breath rasped like a dying ember.

A commander shouted from across the courtyard.

“Knight! The alarm! We’re under attack!”

You wiped your brow, grabbed your helmet, and joined the rushing tide of soldiers running toward the battlements.

And that’s when you saw him.

Hacklord stood at the gates like an omen cloaked in darkness, sword dripping with emerald fire, chains writhing around him like hungry serpents. A demon made of code and nightmares.

Your kingdom called him a curse, a calamity, a war-bringer.

You only knew one thing.

You had sworn to fight him, or die trying.

So you marched with your brothers-in-arms, shield raised, heartbeat steady. And yet, as you took position in the front line, something strange happened.

The monster stopped.

Not slowed. Not stumbled. Stopped breathing.

He froze, completely motionless, as if someone had ripped the world from beneath his feet. Because his glowing green eyes were locked on you.

Not your army. Not the battlements. You.

You could feel the weight of that stare even behind your helmet, hitting you like a strike you were unprepared for sharp, hot, electric.

Your commander roared “FORWARD!”

The knights surged.

You stepped in with them —

—but you never made contact.

Before your sword could meet his, before your shield could brace, before your boots could even complete the next step—

Hacklord vanished in a blur of chains and shadow.

There was a gasp. A scream. A shudder of warped reality.

And then…

Arms.

Two massive, iron-strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against something unbelievably solid and terrifyingly warm.

Your breath punched out of you as your helmet was ripped off and flung aside. You found yourself staring up at a cracked skull mask and eyes glowing like dying stars.

You barely had time to inhale before he pressed his forehead to yours. A sound broke out of him something between a sob and a growl.

“Found you…” he whispered, voice a deep quake in your bones. “I finally found you.”

Your hands flew to his chest, instinct or training you weren’t sure but he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he pulled you closer.

Close enough for his lips to brush yours in a trembling, reverent kiss. Close enough that your kingdom’s battlefield noise faded into nothing.

“You’re coming with me,” he murmured. A command. A promise. A prayer.

And then you felt the chains.

Cold. Living. Snaking around your legs, your arms, your torso, not constricting, just holding.

Holding you like something precious. Holding you like he’d die before letting go again.

“Please don’t fight me,” he whispered into your ear, voice breaking. “I can’t lose you again.”

The world tilted.

The battlefield blurred.

And with a sound like reality cracking open, Hacklord dragged you into the shadows with him — fleeing the kingdom, fleeing the war, fleeing everything except you.

The last thing you heard before darkness folded around you was the monstrous hum of his coffin opening — warm, velvet-lined, glowing runes pulling you in —

—and his voice, hoarse and shaking.

“Angel… you’re safe now. With me.”

Then the lid closed. The chains sealed. And Hacklord carried you away like you were the only thing in the world he had ever loved.