"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin"

The night air was crisp as Seraphis landed on the guild’s rooftop, her white raven form dissolving into a swirl of dark mist. Her feet touched the cold stone tiles, her breath steady despite the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins.

She had found the hidden passage.

She had tracked the courier.

Now, she needed to find out who was behind the letter.

Stepping off the edge of the rooftop, she dropped into the shadows of the alley below, her form seamlessly blending into the darkness. Silent. Invisible. Deadly.

Her target was the abandoned chapel.

But she wouldn’t just walk through the front door.

The Entrance No One Sees

Seraphis crouched near the building’s rotting wooden walls, her fingers tracing along the stone foundation. Old places always had hidden ways in.

She searched for cracks, hollow spaces—anything that could be an unseen entrance.

Then she found it.

Beneath the tangled roots of an overgrown tree, the stone was looser than the rest. Carefully, she pressed against it, feeling the slight give of a hidden mechanism.

With a soft click, the stone shifted, revealing a narrow tunnel.

A second entrance.

She smirked. Amateurs.

Slipping inside, she descended into the darkness.

The Underground Lair

The tunnel was cold, damp, and smelled faintly of mildew and old blood. The further she walked, the clearer she heard voices echoing through the passage.

She moved closer, hugging the walls, her steps soundless.

Then, at the end of the tunnel, she saw them.

A dimly lit chamber, lined with cracked stone pillars. A long, wooden table sat at the center, surrounded by figures in dark cloaks.

And at the head of the table, a man sat with his fingers steepled, his presence radiating cold authority.

Seraphis narrowed her eyes. So, this was the one behind the letter.

"Seraphis Must Die"

She remained hidden in the shadows, listening.

The leader—the one sitting at the head of the table—spoke in a low, commanding voice.

"The thief must be eliminated. She’s dangerous, unpredictable. We sent a warning, but it seems she’s chosen to ignore it."

A second figure spoke up, voice tinged with unease. "Are we sure we want to move against her? She’s… not normal."

The leader scoffed. "She’s still just one person. We have the numbers. We have the resources. And most importantly—"

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"—we have a plan."

Seraphis’ smirk deepened.

Oh? You have a plan?

She almost felt bad for them.

Almost.

Crashing the Party

She counted the figures in the room.

Eight.

Most were probably just messengers or hired thugs, but a couple of them—especially the leader—might be competent.

Alright, let’s make this fun.

She reached into her coat, pulling out one of her razor-sharp metal playing cards. With a flick of her fingers, she sent it flying—

Straight into the candle on the table.

The flame sputtered out, plunging the room into darkness.

The reaction was instantaneous.

"What the—?"

"Who blew out the light?"

"Check the entrance!"

But by the time they moved, she was already inside the room, her steps soundless, her presence a whisper in the night.

She moved behind the first man, slipped a dagger to his throat, and whispered—

"Hello there."

Before he could scream, she slammed his face into the table, knocking him unconscious.

Panic erupted.

The Dance of Blades

The second thug lunged toward where he thought she was—

But she was already gone, flipping over the table, her hand grabbing a chair mid-air and using it as a makeshift weapon to smash into his skull.

Another came at her with a short sword—

She dodged, twisting around him, and kicked his leg out, making him crash onto the floor.

The leader finally stood, his eyes flashing with fury and recognition.

"You," he hissed.

Seraphis grinned. "Me."

And then, he attacked.

The Leader's Mistake

He was faster than the others.

Trained. Skilled.

His dagger came for her throat, but Seraphis was already moving. She caught his wrist, twisted it, and forced him backward—

Only for him to counter by spinning into a low kick, nearly sweeping her legs.

She leapt over it, landing gracefully on the table.

"Not bad," she admitted. "For a guy who writes dramatic threat letters."

His expression darkened. "You shouldn’t have come here."

"Really? Because I feel like this is going exactly how I wanted it to."

She flicked her wrist—

And her metal playing cards shot from her coat, circling around her like a deadly storm.

The leader’s eyes widened.

Seraphis smirked. "Oops."

She snapped her fingers.

The cards launched forward.

The End of the Meeting

The leader barely had time to react.

One card sliced his shoulder, another cut deep into his hand, forcing him to drop his weapon.

He staggered back, gasping.

The remaining men?

Gone.

They had fled, leaving him alone with her.

He clutched his wounded hand, glaring at her with a mix of pain and hatred.

"This isn’t over," he spat.

Seraphis stepped closer, crouching so she was eye level with him.

"Oh, but it is," she murmured.

Then, with one final strike to the temple, she knocked him out cold.

The Aftermath

Seraphis stood, rolling her shoulders.

The chamber was a mess. Bodies on the floor, papers scattered, the scent of blood and burnt candles in the air.

She sighed. "They really should’ve just left me alone."

With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the unconscious leader as a reminder of what happened.

Let them send threats.

She’d just keep sending them back.