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

The air in the prince’s chamber was thick with the scent of perfume and spilled wine. The Third Prince, Lucius, leaned back in his chair, amusement playing across his face as he studied the mysterious new maid before him.

She sat with unshaken poise, her silver hair glimmering in the candlelight, and in her delicate hands, she shuffled a deck of shimmering metallic cards.

"A game, you say?" Lucius drawled, swirling his wine. "You intrigue me, girl. What are the rules?"

Seraphis smiled—a slow, knowing grin.

"Simple. You play… and you survive."

Then she snapped her fingers.

The Trap Closes

A soft click echoed through the room as the doors sealed shut.

The windows locked themselves, and an invisible barrier shimmered into existence.

Lucius, still caught up in his own arrogance, chuckled.

"What a clever little trick," he mused. "Are you a mage, perhaps? Or just a girl with too much confidence?"

Seraphis only tilted her head.

"Would you like to find out?"

Before he could react, her cards shot forward like blades.

One sliced through his sleeve, pinning it to the chair.

Another grazed his cheek, drawing a thin red line.

His smirk faltered.

"You—"

Seraphis moved like a phantom, appearing behind him before he could rise. With a single strike, she slammed his head against the table, his wine goblet shattering against the wood.

His body went slack for a moment—not unconscious, but dazed.

Before he could gather himself, he felt cold steel around his wrists and ankles.

When his vision cleared, he found himself strapped to the wall, his arms spread apart by invisible force.

Seraphis stood before him, twirling a playing card between her fingers.

"Now then," she mused, her voice light, almost playful, "shall we begin?"

A Game of Pain

The first card flew—slashing across his forearm.

Lucius hissed, the sting shocking him more than the pain itself.

Another card followed—this one missing by an inch.

Then another—piercing the wall just beside his ribs.

He let out a sharp breath, his heartbeat pounding against his chest.

Seraphis hummed.

"I must be out of practice. Such a shame," she sighed, stepping closer. "Perhaps I should try harder?"

Before he could spit a curse, she flicked her wrist.

The next card buried itself into his thigh.

Lucius screamed.

Blood spilled from the wound, staining the golden embroidery of his silk robe.

"Oh? That was quite the reaction," Seraphis noted, tapping her chin. "You must be sensitive. Let's test that a bit more, shall we?"

She threw another card.

This time, it struck his shoulder, embedding itself deep.

Lucius shook, his breath ragged as pain spread like fire through his veins.

"You—you psychotic—!"

Another card sliced across his cheek, cutting his insult short.

Seraphis’s eyes gleamed with icy amusement.

"Careful now," she whispered. "Wouldn’t want to lose your tongue before the real fun begins."

The Final Cut

For the next few minutes, she toyed with him.

Some strikes missed on purpose, letting him flinch at the air.

Others landed with brutal precision, cutting deep enough to bleed, but not enough to kill.

Lucius’s screams grew hoarse.

His defiance shattered into gasps and choked sobs.

Seraphis sighed, rolling her neck.

"How boring. I thought you’d last longer."

Then—without warning—she flicked her wrist.

The final card sliced downward—straight into his nether regions.

Lucius let out a raw, inhuman wail.

His entire body convulsed, his fingers twitching against the restraints.

His eyes rolled back, pain consuming him whole.

Seraphis smiled.

"Oops."

She stepped forward, gripping his sweat-soaked hair, tilting his tear-streaked face up to hers.

"Now, for my grand finale."

The last card shot through the air, straight into his throat.

Lucius gurgled, his body thrashing against the wall as blood poured from the wound.

Then—silence.

His head slumped forward.

His body hung motionless.

A Message to the King

Seraphis let go, watching Lucius’s lifeless form with mild interest.

Then, moving calmly, she retrieved her blood-stained cards one by one.

She reached for the nearest wall, dipped a single finger into the pool of crimson, and began to write.

"I know all of your secrets.
I hope you had fun, dear Lucius.
Enjoy the game, Your Majesty."

She stepped back, admiring her handiwork.

Then—without a second glance, she disappeared into the shadows.

The Third Prince was dead.

And the King’s nightmare had only just begun.