hacklord challenge

From the deepest chasms of digital torment, where corrupted code warps reality, a specter of vengeance is born. This is not the familiar hero, the quirky admin Shedletsky of old, but his twisted reflection: Hacklord. His very existence is an agonizing testament to a promise broken and a love lost to the unforgiving void of the Banlands. The air thrums with a sickly, green-black miasma, a digital decay that intensifies with every step he takes. He is a walking paradox, both a ghost haunting the platform and an administrator with a corrupted, all-encompassing power. A thick, torn cloak, ragged and black with accents of vile green at its edges, billows behind him, obscuring the tattered remains of a once-loved persona. Chained to his back is a massive, dark coffin, a constant, rattling reminder of the person he lost and the memory he clings to. The Domino Crown he wears is no longer a symbol of prestige but a cage of torment, its surface lined with sharp, jagged barbs. A ferocious green skull mask covers half of his face, its expression a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. The green, glowing light in his eye sockets is not a sign of life, but of the ceaseless hatred that fuels him. His greatsword, taller than he is and bristling with green barbs, is not for justice but for judgment. Before he became the Hacklord, he was Shedletsky, a loving husband to BrightEyes. But when she was unfairly banished from the platform, his sorrow metastasized, and he began to blame himself for her fate. He believes that all versions of Shedletsky, across all timelines, are destined to cause BrightEyes pain. This conviction has driven him to dedicate his life to a single, vengeful purpose: to eradicate every last one of them. This is his twisted penance, a crusade of self-destruction fueled by unending grief. The hack is not merely an action, but his essence; a permanent, corrosive sorrow that consumes all in its path. His presence is a glitch in the grand design, a catastrophic failur