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

Returning to the Guild

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of blood and steel as Seraphis and the twins made their way back toward the Assassin’s Guild. The weight of the severed head in her grasp was familiar—solid, warm, lifeless.

There was no conversation between them. There didn’t need to be. The silence was comfortable, the only sounds coming from the quiet crunch of dirt beneath their boots.

A Shadow in the Dark

Seraphis kept her senses sharp. Just because the contract was complete didn’t mean they were safe. Someone could be watching. Someone could be waiting.

Her grip on the head tightened slightly. The mercenary leader had been strong—skilled—but in the end, skill wasn’t enough against them.

A faint rustle in the trees made her pause.

An Unwelcome Presence

She turned her head slightly, just enough to see a dark figure move among the branches. They weren’t amateurs—whoever they were, they knew how to hide.

Seraphis exhaled softly.

“Company,” she murmured.

The twins reacted instantly. Their hands shifted toward their weapons, bodies tensed and ready to strike.

A Test or an Attack?

The figure didn’t move closer, didn’t speak. They simply watched.

Seraphis narrowed her eyes. Was it an enemy? A rival assassin? A scout sent by another faction?

She didn’t like being observed.

“Leave,” she called into the darkness, voice even. “Or I’ll cut you down.”

A Silent Departure

For a few tense seconds, the only sound was the wind. Then—a retreat. Whoever it was vanished back into the shadows, slipping away like a ghost.

Seraphis clicked her tongue.

“Coward.”

The twins exchanged glances but said nothing. There were always eyes in the dark, but unless they posed a threat, Seraphis wasn’t interested in chasing shadows.

The Guild’s Doors Await

The rest of the walk was uneventful. The towering silhouette of the Assassin’s Guild came into view—an ominous structure of stone and steel, standing tall against the dark sky.

Seraphis pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the dimly lit interior. The smell of blood, smoke, and alcohol was thick in the air. Assassins of all ranks lounged in corners, some laughing over drinks, others sharpening blades, waiting for their next contract.

Eyes on the Prize

As she strode toward the front desk, heads turned. Murmurs rippled through the room.

The black-mark contract had been a dangerous one. Few had expected them to return—let alone victorious.

Seraphis ignored the stares. She had a job to finish.

Proof of Death

The guildmaster stood behind the desk, his face unreadable as Seraphis dropped the severed head onto the counter with a dull thud.

Blood pooled beneath it, the lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“Your proof,” she said.

The guildmaster’s gaze flicked over the head, then back to her. A slow, approving nod.

“Well done.”

A Sizable Reward

A leather pouch was tossed onto the counter, landing beside the head. The weight of it was satisfying—a heavy sum.

Seraphis didn’t count it. She didn’t need to. The guild never shortchanged its assassins.

A Reputation Solidified

More whispers. More glances.

Seraphis felt the shift in the air—respect. She had already earned her place in the guild, but this contract had sealed it.

She wasn’t just another assassin. She was one of the best.

Drinks in Celebration

One of the twins grabbed the pouch, slipping it into their coat as they turned away from the desk.

Seraphis stretched her arms. “Drink?”

The twins exchanged grins.

“Drink.”

A Moment of Rest

They moved to one of the tables, where a barmaid quickly slid over a tray of strong, dark liquor. The first sip burned, but it was welcome.

For now, there was no killing, no hunting, no blood—just the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

A Challenge Approaches

But the peace didn’t last long.

A figure approached their table—a man clad in dark leather, a long scar running down his jaw.

He stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes cold.

“I saw what you did,” he said. “You’re good. But I wonder…”

He tilted his head.

“Are you good enough?”

The Weight of a Challenge

Seraphis set her drink down, eyes locked onto his.

“Are you looking for a fight?”

He smirked.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see if you’re as dangerous as they say.”

The Guild Watches

The room had gone quiet. Assassins were always hungry for a fight, and this was exactly the kind of entertainment they lived for.

Seraphis considered it.

She didn’t need to prove herself. But she wouldn’t back down from a challenge either.

A Decision Made

She stood slowly, the chair scraping against the wooden floor.

“If you want a fight…” She rolled her shoulders. “I won’t stop you.”

The Circle Forms

The other assassins cleared space, forming a rough ring around them.

The man smiled, drawing a thin, curved dagger from his belt.

“No weapons,” Seraphis said flatly. “Bare hands.”

His smile widened.

“I like you already.”

The First Strike

He moved first.

Fast. Efficient. Well-trained.

Seraphis ducked under his first strike, twisting away before his fist could connect. She countered immediately—a sharp elbow to his ribs.

A True Brawler

The impact sent him back a step, but he barely reacted. He had felt worse.

He came at her again.

A punch—she dodged. A kick—she sidestepped. He was strong, but she was faster.

Trading Blows

Seraphis blocked, struck, dodged, countered. Their movements were fluid, relentless—two fighters locked in a deadly dance.

She took a hit to the shoulder—nothing serious. In return, she drove her knee into his stomach, forcing a sharp exhale from his lips.

Pushing Limits

The fight dragged on longer than she expected. He wasn’t just some low-level thug—he had skill, experience.

But he wasn’t better than her.

The Ending Blow

She waited for his next move.

The second he lunged—she struck first.

Her fist connected with his jaw, the force sending him crashing to the floor.

Victory Earned

Silence.

Then—cheers, laughter, approval.

The man groaned, rolling onto his back. He let out a strained chuckle.

“Yeah… you’re good.”

A Final Word

Seraphis smirked.

“I know.”

She turned, walking back to her table as the onlookers dispersed, the excitement fading into the usual murmur of the guild.

She took her seat, picked up her drink, and took a slow sip.

Just another night. Just another victory.