Rocot: Reborn

Rocot stood at the door of the cabin, his eyes swept across the dilapidated skyscrapers and fell on the vast wasteland in the distance, where a storm was brewing. Black clouds rolled, arcs of electricity intertwined, and the world seemed to be announcing the coming of doomsday.

"This world is really doomsday-like." Rocot stroked his long beard, with a cunning smile at the corner of his mouth, as if hinting at the power game that was about to begin.

Suddenly, the wind and sand on the wasteland became more violent, and a figure came through the dust and fog like a ghost, so fast that it was hard to predict. "Look, it's the legendary bounty hunter!" someone in the crowd exclaimed, pointing at the sudden figure.

The thin bounty hunter stopped in front of Rocot, his eyes flashing coldly behind his mechanical eye mask, and the laser gun in his hand was pointed at Rocot. His voice came through the loudspeaker coldly: "Rocot, your head is worth 10 million credits, alive or dead."

Roccod chuckled, not caring at all: "I don't think you want to take my body. Come, tell me who your real master is, maybe I can make his disaster come early."

The bounty hunter hesitated, and at this moment, the sky suddenly burst into lightning, and a bolt of lightning struck the bounty hunter accurately. There was a burst of exclamation from the crowd, but Rocot remained calm and stood there, as if he had expected this scene.

Just as everyone was lamenting the fate of the bounty hunter, Rocot turned around, his eyes sharp as a knife: "It seems that the rules of this game are more cruel than I thought."

Suddenly, a cloud of black mist rose from the cracks in the ground, forming a huge vortex, and a figure gradually condensed in the center. It was a mysterious woman wearing a black robe with complex totems painted on her face. Her voice seemed to come from all directions: "Lockold, you think you are a hunter, but in fact you have already become the prey."

Roccod raised his eyebrows, rubbing his hands together, his voice full of disdain and fighting spirit: "Come, let's see who hunts who."

As his words fell, the sky and the earth changed color, and a new battle was about to begin.

Roccod's eyes suddenly shrank, and his whole body began to emit an inky black light, filled with murderous intent.

"Is it you?" he said.

The mustache tilted his head and waved his dry-looking hands in the air a few times like a real mustache. "Yes, it's me. I'm the one who will put an end to your sinful, dirty career."

"Terminator?"

"Yes, I am now 67 years away from my end years ago, but you may not have the chance to witness it."

At the same time, the surrounding metal bodies began to emit a slight humming sound, as if they were excited by the energy and instructions that were now active in their system.

"Then going back to such a distant past must have consumed a lot of your energy." Roccod's red eyes trembled, and the corners of his mouth slowly pulled to a strange angle. "Can you set sail again?"

"Stop struggling, it's useless!" The man with a mustache suddenly shouted loudly, and in an instant, all the robots opened fire at the same time.

In Locot's world, almost everything slowed down at this moment. These light beams, streams of fire, and explosions began to exist only in a very small range, then gradually extended outward, twisted for a moment, and then bloomed like fireworks.

The robot fell in a pool of blood, its completely burnt body turned into an ugly piece of scrap metal without anyone controlling it. Roccod flew backwards and jumped under the platform, half-knelt on the ground, and raised a bright red flag.

All vibrations and firepower came to an abrupt halt.

"You're curious about what kind of story we have, aren't you?" Rocot said in a cold and emotionless tone.

One night in the near future, the stars are obscured by thick clouds, and the lights of the city flicker like ghosts before the end of the world. The streets are deserted, with only a gust of wind swirling from the corners, rolling up discarded newspapers and plastic bags. In this night that seems to be still in the picture, a figure wanders in the back alleys of the bustling streets like a dark ghost.

His name is Rokod, the former king of the night, now trapped in the body of an abandoned robot. His body is a high-density energy core, and his exterior is a mottled alloy shell. He moves forward slowly, his robes dragging in the wind, and the red electric light flashing in his eyes is the only light source.

Roccod's heart is filled with the desire for revenge and rebirth. Ever since he awakened in this mechanical body, he knew that this was not just a rebirth, but the beginning of a brand new battle. With his legendary wisdom and scheming, he can plan how to master this technologically intertwined world and reshape his own shadow empire even in the dark streets.

At the edge of the city, Rocot stopped. There was an abandoned factory, corroded by rust, with discarded machines everywhere, becoming a secret base of the city of crime. He knew that this was the secret base of an old rival from his previous life. As he took a deep breath, Rocot could feel his mechanized lungs creaking, and the hatred and indignation in his heart were stronger than ever before.

At this moment, a group of people wearing black combat uniforms suddenly emerged from the shadows. Behind each person's mask was an unknown cold face, and they did not hide the electric lightsabers in their hands at all. Rokod stared at them indifferently, and a mechanical voice sounded slowly and steadily: "I know who you are and why you are here. But you are wrong. I am no longer that Rokod. I am a new Shadow Hunter, and I am the only one who controls my destiny!"

The crowd did not respond, but surrounded him even more quickly. The sound of lightning and metal rubbing against each other reverberated violently in this secluded abandoned factory, and Roccod seemed to be able to hear the sound of electricity like his own heartbeat getting stronger. He closed his eyes, focused on the power coming from the past, and prepared to release it.

The moment he opened his eyes, his red eyes were like a rising blood-red moon, shining coldly.