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

The moon hung high, its silver glow slicing through the darkness as Seraphis crouched on a rooftop, peering down at Lord Cedric Vale’s estate.

It was a fortress.

Tall stone walls wrapped around the compound, torches flickering along the perimeter. Guards in heavy armor patrolled in pairs, their movements precise—too precise.

"Trained mercenaries."

Not the usual bumbling noble guards. These were professionals. Killers.

Seraphis smirked.

"Good. That makes it fun."

She reached into her coat, fingers brushing against her metal playing cards. The magic within them hummed in response.

Tonight was going to be messy.

Phase One: The Approach

She descended silently, landing in the shadows. Her body moved like a ghost, slipping past blind spots, pressing herself against the cold stone.

One guard walked past.

Another turned his back.

Seraphis exhaled.

Her fingers flicked—and one of her playing cards shot forward.

It slit his throat mid-step.

He made no sound, just a gurgling gasp before she caught him, lowering his body without a whisper.

"One down."

She retrieved her card, wiping it clean.

Then, she vanished deeper into the estate.

Phase Two: The Inside

The grand hall was eerily quiet. A chandelier flickered above, casting warped shadows against the stone walls.

Seraphis moved swiftly, her boots making no sound.

She reached the study, where Reynard’s intel said Cedric kept his plans.

The door was locked.

She didn’t bother picking it.

Instead, she touched the wood—and her cards reshaped into a thin blade.

She slid it between the hinges—a soft push—and the door gave way.

Inside, a desk covered in scrolls and maps.

She scanned them quickly.

Trade routes. Supply chains. Unmarked shipments.

Her eyes narrowed.

"He's funding someone. But who?"

Then—a creak.

She spun, daggers drawn.

The shadows in the corner shifted.

"I was wondering when you’d notice me."

A figure stepped forward.

Tall. Cloaked. A mask covering their face.

Seraphis’ grip tightened.

"And you are?"

The masked figure chuckled.

"A message."

Then—they lunged.

Phase Three: The Duel

Seraphis barely dodged, flipping backward as a dagger sliced through the air.

Her opponent moved like lightning, their blade a blur.

Seraphis countered, her cards expanding into a whip-like chain—snapping toward their throat.

They ducked.

Then, suddenly—a second dagger flashed.

Seraphis twisted, but not fast enough—the blade grazed her side.

Pain flared.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Alright. No more playing."

She flicked her wrist—five cards shot out at once, circling the figure like blades.

They dodged two—but the third caught their shoulder.

They hissed in pain.

Seraphis grinned.

"You're fast. But I’m faster."

The masked figure staggered back, clutching their wound.

"Tch. Not bad."

Then—they vanished.

Seraphis cursed, her eyes scanning the room.

Gone. Completely.

But on the desk, where they had stood, lay a single folded note.

She grabbed it, unfolding it carefully.

One sentence.

"The game is only beginning, White Raven."

Seraphis exhaled.

She hated games.

But she was damn good at winning them.