Rocot: Reborn

A trace of fear flashed across the middle-aged man's eyes, but he quickly regained his composure. "Don't think that this little miracle can save your life, attack!" He ordered loudly, and all the Iron Knights rushed forward.

Rokod sneered, pulled out a strange black seal from his sleeve, and pressed it lightly. The surrounding air suddenly twisted and deformed, forming a black energy field, which bounced away all the soldiers rushing up.

"Look, this is real power!" Rocot's voice echoed in the night wind, and every word carried unquestionable majesty and power.

The Iron Knight who was rushing in the front was thrown out and fell heavily to the ground. Seeing this, the others stopped and dared not act rashly.

Rocot slowly walked towards the middle-aged man who was leading the group. His steps were steady and firm, and the cold light in his eyes was frightening. "Now, tell me, who are you? Why are you blocking my way?"

The middle-aged man took a step back and murmured in his throat, obviously weighing the pros and cons. He knew that the man in front of him was not an ordinary person, and he might have to re-evaluate what happened tonight.

Rocot was taken to a long-abandoned courtyard by a group of people.

"Don't think too much, we just want to find a place to stay." The middle-aged man stared at Rocot and said slowly.

"Oh?" Rocot raised his eyebrows. "Do you think I have the same goal as you? This place is not a good place to stay."

In front of everyone was a dilapidated building. The tiles on the roof were crumbling and the cracks on the walls were like a hideous smiling face, mocking everyone who set foot here.

"Has anyone told you that you particularly like asking others questions?" the middle-aged man said sarcastically.

Roccod shrugged and did not refute. He also wanted to know what purpose these people had in choosing to stay in such a place.

"We just don't like noisy crowds. In this quiet wilderness, we can hear the voice of our own hearts." The middle-aged man said coldly, "If you don't like it, you can leave. No one will keep you."

Rocot looked around and said, "I think this place might be just what I'm feeling now."

As the night deepened and the crescent moon appeared, the town looked like a sleeping beast under the moonlight, and they were like hunters approaching quietly.

"Since you're here, just behave yourself and don't try to find out what's going on here." The middle-aged man's voice was very abrupt in the silence.

"Heh." Roccod chuckled. "What about you? Who are you?"

The middle-aged man's face became serious. He slowly walked to Rocot's front. Their eyes met, as if invisible sparks burst between them. "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that we have a common goal, don't we?"

As the night deepened, a cool breeze blew, sweeping up the dead leaves on the ground. In the silent courtyard, only a few faint lights remained.

"It seems that we are all very interested in this place." Roccod narrowed his eyes. He knew that this middle-aged man must have some secrets, and he had to be patient.

"Okay, everyone, please find your place to stay tonight before dark," the middle-aged man shouted to the team behind him.

Rocot turned his gaze around. It was a deserted courtyard, empty and dark, with several dilapidated buildings standing around it. It looked like no one had lived there for a long time.

He took a step forward, randomly chose a house that looked relatively intact and walked in. The door made a teeth-grinding shriek as he pushed it, and dust flew up through the crack of the door, looking like floating elves under the penetrating light.

He looked around the room. Items were scattered in the corners, and cobwebs were woven in each of the four corners of the room. It looked like no one had cared about it for some years.

He chose a relatively intact wooden bed, dusted it off, and felt the tranquility of this temporary resting place.

The night slowly fell, and the town seemed particularly quiet under the cover of night, and almost no one's voice could be heard. In this courtyard, there was almost no movement, only a few scattered fires flickered faintly in the night.

He sat on the wooden bed, feeling the touch of the night breeze, and an indescribable feeling of familiarity and strangeness welled up in his heart.

It seemed that this world was both familiar and strange to him. What was familiar was that he had seen similar fires glowing in the night of his previous life; what was strange was the silence and depth of this world of a completely different dimension.

In this silence, he couldn't help but start thinking about his next move. He already had a plan in his mind, but at this moment, he was a little hesitant because of the atmosphere of this courtyard.

Just as he was thinking, suddenly, the door made a sharp sound and a figure appeared in front of him.

He looked up and saw a woman in a black cloak, with half a silver mask on her face, standing quietly at the door. Her black pupils were like the deep sea in the night, exuding an indescribable temptation and mystery.

He frowned and thought to himself: Could it be that she is a subordinate of the "big shot" that the middle-aged man mentioned?

"Who are you?" he asked.

The woman in black took a step towards him without saying a word. In the dim firelight, she was like a night dancer, with a ghostly aura.

She stretched out her hand, and a silver light appeared in her palm. As the light expanded, she spoke, and her voice was as sweet as a bell.

She said, "Lockold, I'm here to take you home."

The moment the voice fell, the light suddenly enveloped his whole body. He only felt a white light in front of his eyes and the sound of whistling wind in his ears, and then everything returned to silence.

Rocot felt himself being carried by an invisible force, passing through the intersection of light and shadow. When the silver light finally dissipated, the soft and cold soil under his feet was in a desolate ruin. The woman in the black cloak had disappeared, and only a huge castle stood in the night, looking particularly lonely and proud.

Rocot stood up shakily, his heart surging with familiar yet strange feelings. The glory and honor of the past came flooding back like a tide. He used to be the monarch of the Shadow Kingdom, but now, he was like a discarded puppet, homeless.

An old but solid iron door creaked open, and a group of black-clad figures stepped out, led by a tall man, whose face was mostly covered by a hood, and whose eyes flashed coldly. Roccod's tense nerves told him that this man was not simple.