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

The first sensation I registered was cold. A crisp, unfamiliar kind of cold—not the biting chill of winter, nor the numbing frost of death, but a quiet, refreshing coolness that seeped into my skin like the whisper of dawn. My body felt strange, almost weightless, as if I had shed a lifetime’s worth of burden overnight.

I took a slow breath, and my lungs expanded easily, without the stiffness I had grown accustomed to. No pain. No aching joints. No creeping fatigue. It was an alien feeling, to be so… alive.

Memories surfaced—fractured at first, like reflections in a rippling pool.

I had died.

Not by the blade, nor by poison, nor by betrayal. My end had been simple. Unremarkable. A slow decline, a withering of the body until it could no longer sustain me. No great battle, no dramatic last stand—just the slow passage of time, chipping away at me until there was nothing left.

And yet, here I was.

My eyelids fluttered open, and I found myself staring at a ceiling of rough-hewn wood. The scent of aged timber and the faintest trace of herbal smoke filled my nostrils. A cabin. The details flooded in now, sharper and clearer. My new memories. This place—this life—was no longer unfamiliar.

I was Seraphis.

My fingers curled into the coarse fabric of the blanket draped over me. This body was young, but my mind… my mind was still mine. I pushed myself upright, my movements precise despite the unfamiliarity of my limbs. The moment I sat up, I noticed something glinting on the wooden floor beside the bed.

A single metal playing card.

The sight of it sent a jolt through me—not of surprise, but of recognition. My fingers reached out instinctively, brushing against its smooth, cool surface. The moment I made contact, I felt it. A pulse. A response. The card wasn’t just an object; it was connected to me, as if it had been waiting.

The old man’s voice echoed in my mind.

"These aren’t just weapons, Seraphis. They’ll be your companions. Your tools. Your fangs in the dark. Treat them well, and they will never fail you."

The old man. My mentor. My guardian in this world. He had found me as an infant—alone, abandoned, or perhaps simply lost to fate. He had taken me in, raised me, trained me. He had been strict but fair, wise beyond measure, and skilled in ways I was only now beginning to understand. He had taught me how to fight, how to think, how to survive.

And now he was gone.

I exhaled slowly, closing my fingers around the card. It was heavier than it looked, its edges honed to an impossibly fine sharpness. My mind reached out, and the card responded in kind. I could feel its presence, as if it were an extension of myself. With a thought, it lifted from my palm, hovering in the air before spinning lazily.

Good. The connection was intact.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stood. My balance was perfect, my movements smooth. Despite the weakness of this younger body, my muscle memory remained. Training would be necessary, but I hadn’t lost everything.

The wooden floor creaked beneath my bare feet as I made my way to the door. The cabin was small, but familiar—every item in its place, just as he had left it. A fire had long since died out in the hearth, leaving only the faint scent of charred wood. The shelves were lined with books, tools, and the remnants of an orderly life. A training dummy stood in the corner, its surface marked by years of use.

I paused only briefly before stepping outside.

The morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth and pine filling my lungs. Tall trees loomed around the clearing, their branches swaying gently in the wind. The forest stretched endlessly beyond, an untamed wilderness waiting to be conquered.

My gaze swept the clearing, noting the familiar sights—the worn wooden training post, the stacked logs, the shallow stream trickling through the edge of the clearing. This had been my home for as long as I could remember. And now, it was my starting ground.

I flexed my fingers, calling the card to my hand once more. The weight of it was comforting. Reassuring.

Training would begin immediately.

I had lost my strength once. I would not lose it again.