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

The blood on my hands had barely dried before I was called back to the Guildmaster’s office.

A night of chaos in the city. House Draymoor was gone. House Avalon was in shambles, desperately trying to clear their name.

And me?

I walked through the Assassin’s Guild with purpose. The other members whispered as I passed. I could feel their stares—some filled with curiosity, others with fear.

Good.

I liked it that way.

When I reached the office, the Guildmaster was already waiting, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I didn’t sit.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Still on edge?”

“Just cautious.”

He nodded. “Fair. You just turned one of the city’s most powerful noble houses into a smoking ruin. That kind of work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

I crossed my arms. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” He leaned forward. “In fact, it’s a damn good reason to promote you.”

I narrowed my eyes.

He tossed a small silver badge across the table. I caught it with two fingers, inspecting the engraving.

C-Rank.

I’d skipped two entire ranks.

A rare promotion, but not impossible—not if you proved yourself to be more than the standard cutthroat.

I glanced back up at him. “That was fast.”

He shrugged. “Killing Draymoor wasn’t just a contract. It was a message. The Guild needs people like you at a higher level.”

I rolled the badge between my fingers before tucking it away. “And the catch?”

The Guildmaster grinned. “Oh, there’s a catch, all right. You’re not done proving yourself.”

He reached into his desk and pulled out a worn map, spreading it across the table.

“You’re going to the mountains.”

The Mission: Hunt the Bandit King

The Guildmaster tapped his finger against a spot on the map—deep in the northern mountains.

“A group of bandits has been causing trouble along the trade routes,” he said. “Merchant caravans ambushed. Travelers slaughtered.”

“Simple extermination?” I asked.

“Not quite.” His expression darkened. “We need intel first. Figure out their numbers, their strength, and if they have any connections to someone bigger.”

“And after that?”

He smirked. “After that, you cut off the snake’s head and bring it back to me.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“When do I leave?”

Into the Frozen Wilds

The northern mountains were treacherous. I set out before dawn, traveling light.

The higher I climbed, the colder it became. Snow blanketed the ground, and icy winds howled through the trees.

This was enemy territory.

The bandits knew these mountains, but I was a predator in their midst.

I traveled in silence, my enhanced senses picking up the smallest shifts in my surroundings—the rustle of leaves, the snap of a distant twig, the scent of unwashed bodies on the wind.

They were close.

I pressed forward, moving through the thick snow, invisible to the world.

The first sign of their presence was a caravan.

Or rather… what was left of one.

The wagons were overturned, the horses slaughtered, their bodies half-buried in the snow. Blood stained the ground, and frozen corpses were sprawled across the wreckage.

Some still clutched weapons.

They had fought. And lost.

I crouched, examining the scene. The wounds were fresh. The bandits weren’t far.

Then, I saw the footprints.

Leading up the mountain.

Straight to their lair.

I followed.

The Bandit Lair

By nightfall, I reached their stronghold.

A fortified cave, hidden between jagged cliffs, surrounded by spiked barricades. Torches lined the entrance, casting flickering shadows across the stone.

Guards patrolled the perimeter—at least ten that I could see. Probably more inside.

I took a breath.

Then, I moved.

Silent. Unseen.

I scaled the rock wall, slipping into the shadows, my fingers finding perfect holds in the icy stone.

From my vantage point, I could see inside. Dozens of bandits. Armed, armored, laughing around a massive fire.

And in the center of them all—their leader.

A massive man, draped in furs, scarred from countless battles. A greatsword rested beside him, half-buried in the ground.

The Bandit King.

I watched. Listened.

He spoke in a deep, rumbling voice. “Avalon’s in chaos. The city is weak. Now’s the time to strike.”

So they did have connections to noble houses.

Interesting.

I stayed hidden, gathering information. Names. Plans. Numbers.

Then, when I had what I needed…

I began the hunt.

A Shadow Among Wolves

One by one, the bandits disappeared.

A man stepped away to relieve himself—his body was never found.

A guard turned the wrong corner—his throat was silently slit.

Slowly, methodically, I thinned their numbers.

By the time they realized something was wrong, it was too late.

Panic spread. Weapons were drawn.

Then, I struck.

I dropped from above, blades flashing.

My playing cards became deadly razors, slicing through flesh. I weaved through them, dodging strikes, cutting them down with ruthless efficiency.

They tried to fight back.

They failed.

Within minutes, the cavern was a slaughterhouse.

And only one remained.

The Bandit King’s Last Stand

He was waiting for me.

The Bandit King stood at the far end of the cavern, greatsword in hand. Blood dripped from his blade—his own men’s blood.

“Coward,” he growled. “Striking from the shadows.”

I smiled, twirling a playing card between my fingers. “That’s what I do best.”

He roared, charging.

I moved.

His blade swung down, splitting the stone floor where I had stood seconds before.

I flipped backward, throwing a card—it expanded into a spinning blade, slicing across his arm.

He grunted, barely feeling it.

He was fast. Strong. But he was not trained.

I was.

We clashed. A deadly dance of steel and blood. His strikes were powerful, but they lacked precision.

I struck. Again. Again.

Wearing him down.

His movements slowed. His breathing grew ragged.

And then—his mistake.

A wild swing. Desperate. Reckless.

I dodged.

And my blade found his throat.

A single, clean cut.

He staggered. Dropped his sword.

Collapsed.

I stepped over his corpse and bent down, gripping his hair.

With one swift motion, I severed his head.

Returning to the Guild

The journey back was uneventful.

When I walked into the Guild, I dropped the Bandit King’s head onto the Guildmaster’s desk.

He smirked.

“Well done.”

I didn’t reply. I just leaned back, waiting.

He studied me for a moment, then laughed. “You really don’t waste time, do you?”

I didn’t.

And I wouldn’t.