Rocot: Reborn

Rocot turned back and continued to stare at the orb. He had to rely on its power to detect unknown threats. The magic power was like a guide, leading his thoughts deep into the core of the orb.

"Huo!" In the silence, the gem made a deafening sound, and then, the gem seemed to glimpse a scene from the future - a bright red flag fluttered in the wind, a familiar yet unfamiliar symbol announced to the world.

Roccod's eyes narrowed into the most dangerous needle-like look. He recognized the symbol, which indicated that an ancient family was about to revive. That was the force he had suppressed with bloody means. How could it be...

And deep in the image of the orb, he seemed to hear the sound of chains swaying in the wind, and something seemed to be stirring in the dark...

Rocot knew that he had to act now. He would face not only the conspiracy of the betrayer, but also the hungry ghost thirsting for revenge. He grasped the scepter tightly, ready to issue the order that had been heard on countless battlefields, but at that moment, the light of the orb suddenly dissipated, and a cold premonition passed through his heart...

The orb suddenly stopped shining, and Rocot couldn't withdraw his attention for a moment. He kept staring, like a silent statue.

Everything in the hall was dead silent, with only the majesty and oppression emanating from the throne remaining. A maid holding a torch stood quietly at the side, not daring to disturb the deathly silence.

"My king." The chief guard, who had been silent until now, warned cautiously, "The temperature of the hall is dropping."

Rocot seemed to wake up at this moment, with a deep and dark shadow in his indifferent eyes. His fingers tapped the armrests of the throne lightly, making a rhythmic echo.

"Astronomical phenomena, the black market, the ancient tribe..." His voice was low, as if it could penetrate into one's bones, "Coincidence, or a carefully planned conspiracy?"

He looked at the guards and ordered, "Strengthen the city's security. Anyone who makes a rash move must report it immediately."

"Yes!" The chief guard immediately went to execute the order.

Rocot looked at the long staircase in front of the throne, as if he was gazing at a journey in the distance. He was inexplicably reminded of the scene in the orb just now, and a sense of uneasiness and anxiety surged in his heart.

"Your Majesty," the maid said timidly, "Do you need me to light the brazier for you? It's getting colder in the hall..."

Rocot waved his hand. Although his eyes were fixed on the maid, they seemed to penetrate her body and look elsewhere. "The chill... is indeed as you said."

He felt a strange chill spreading from the soles of his feet. However, this was not like the severe cold of winter, but a dead and cold temperature, as if it came from another world.

"Click... Click..." Without any warning, the sound of iron chains dragging on the ground suddenly rang out from behind the throne, echoing in the deadly silent hall like the whisper of a ghost...

In the corner behind the cold throne, a high-level wizard crawled cautiously. In his hand was a blood-red gem, which was the tool he used to sense and control the Dementors. Dementors were ancient and powerful creatures. They were invisible and had no fixed form. They would choose the host according to the surrounding life breath and cause strong infection. The possessed person would gradually lose himself and become a puppet of the monster.

There is a contract between the wizard and the Dementors, which is mediated by the blood-red ruby. A powerful person like Roccod can control the Dementors by simply leaving a mental mark in the ruby. The ruby ​​is now in the wizard's hands, and he is trying to erase the mark left by Roccod on the ruby ​​- a dangerous task.

Undercurrents rose from the gemstone, moving like snakes around the wizard's fingertips. These undercurrents were the Dementors' tentacles, probing through the gemstone to detect Rocot's mental imprint. The wizard held his breath, carefully guiding the tentacles to find the weakest spot of the imprint.

"Click... Click..." The sound of chains came from behind the throne again, and it seemed that the Dementors were becoming more restless. The wizard's heart tightened, he knew that the Dementors were anxiously seeking release. Cold sweat oozed from his forehead, and he had to speed up.

Finally, after some effort, the wizard successfully removed the spiritual mark left by Rokod on the gem. The blood color in the gem seemed to be a little deeper. The wizard wiped the sweat from his forehead and secretly felt lucky to have escaped the fatal danger. But at this moment, a cold voice came from the gem. The voice was as cold as a sharp knife cutting the wizard's ears, making his body tremble.

"Lockold, this is what I deserve. I want them all, the Dementors, the Mark, and your power." The wizard threatened in a low voice, his voice getting louder and higher until it turned into a sharp scream.

Suddenly, the undercurrent in the gem surged like a tide, and the originally deep blood color became lighter and lighter, and finally turned into a piece of snow-white. Then, a sharp laugh came from the snow-white.

"Locod, do you think you can play with me as you please?" The laughter shattered the silence of the hall into pieces. The wizard threw down the gem in horror and turned to run away, but he found that he seemed to be locked in place by an invisible force and could not move. He could only watch the gem floating in front of him, and the sharp laughter made his ears feel stinging.

“Rocket, do you know who I am?” The sharp laughter became sharper and colder. “I am a Dementor, the one you want to control. Do you think you can control me by clearing my mental imprint? Hahahaha… Overestimating your own abilities will only lead to destruction. Rocket, witness my power!”

With that, the snow-white gem shattered in an instant, and countless undercurrents rushed towards the wizard. He screamed hoarsely, but his body was unable to move, like an invisible chain.

The temperature in the hall suddenly dropped to freezing point, and the undercurrent in the deep sea surged out and spread to Rocot's "throne". The Dementors' mental power was like a gust of wind, penetrating Rocot's body, but was instantly blocked by a more powerful force.

Rocot realized that this power came from deep within himself - a power that had been unleashed by a previous betrayal, hidden deep within him, waiting for the right moment to explode.

Golden sunlight poured into the hall through the windows, and Rocot stared at his "throne" that was burning fiercely in the sunlight. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrests, and he decided his future path.

"Dementor," Rocot said in a calm but firm voice, "you are no match for me."

Hearing this, the Dementor was furious and said, "You! Don't stomp my tail! Otherwise I will kill you..."

Rocot laughed, and his laughter was like the scorching sun in spring, bright at the end. The light of darkness at this moment was as exciting and frightening as the sun. They were vying to squeeze into every corner of the hall, filled with the dust of all the years.