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

A Visit to the Assassin’s Guild

The sun hung low in the sky as Seraphis left Raven Tower, her long coat billowing in the cool evening breeze. The tower stood behind her, its dark spires stretching toward the heavens, a silent monolith of power and secrets. But tonight, her path led her elsewhere—to the Assassin’s Guild.

The streets of the town bustled with activity as she moved through the narrow alleys, avoiding the more crowded main roads. Even as night approached, merchants still haggled over prices, and street performers gathered small crowds. But she had no time for distractions.

Reaching the Assassin’s Guild, she slipped past the entrance and made her way up the wooden staircase, her boots barely making a sound against the aged planks. The scent of burning candles and parchment filled the air, mingling with the ever-present aroma of blood and steel.

She reached the top floor, stopping before an ornate black door, knocking twice before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.

Inside, the Guild Master sat behind a heavy mahogany desk, a towering man with graying hair and sharp, wolf-like eyes. The office was dimly lit, the glow of a single oil lamp casting long shadows along the walls.

Seraphis leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Hello, old man. How are you doing?"

The Guild Master glanced up from a stack of documents, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Seraphis. Still as blunt as ever." He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "I’m doing well. But I imagine you’re not here for small talk."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a sealed mission document, tossing it onto the desk.

"I've got a mission for you. Something that might interest you."

Seraphis stepped forward, picking up the parchment and breaking the seal. Her silver eyes scanned the contents swiftly.

Mission Name: Captain Darius Flint

• Target: Captain Darius Flint

• Description: A former knight leading a rebellion against a local lord

• Crimes: Rebellion, Fraud, Abuse of Power, Murder, Embezzlement

Her fingers tightened slightly around the parchment.

"So, a traitorous knight turned rebel?" she mused.

The Guild Master nodded.

"He was once a respected captain of the lord’s guard. But somewhere along the line, greed got the better of him. He’s been gathering deserters, bandits, and mercenaries, forming a rebellion under the guise of ‘freeing the people’—but all he’s really doing is lining his pockets."

Seraphis chuckled darkly.

"Typical." She rolled up the parchment. "Where is he?"

"A fortified encampment deep in the Ironwood Forest. Heavy defenses, well-trained men. This isn’t some small-time gang—he knows what he’s doing."

She tilted her head.

"And the payment?"

The Guild Master smirked.

"A platinum bounty and access to certain restricted assassin techniques hidden in the guild archives."

Now that was interesting.

"Consider it done."

Tracking the Prey

Seraphis left the guild and moved swiftly through the town, gathering supplies. She purchased poisoned daggers, smoke bombs, and throwing needles laced with paralytic venom. For this job, she needed precision.

By midnight, she was at the forest’s edge. The Ironwood Forest was notorious—its trees were unnaturally tall and dense, their bark tough as iron, hence the name. It was the perfect place for an outlaw’s hideout.

She climbed into the trees, silent as a shadow, leaping from branch to branch, scouting ahead. Soon, she spotted flickering lights through the foliage—the encampment.

A heavily fortified base lay ahead, wooden palisades surrounding the perimeter. Torches lined the walls, illuminating patrolling guards.

She perched on a branch, narrowing her eyes.

"Time to get to work."

Infiltrating the Encampment

She moved like a phantom, slithering past the guards unnoticed. When a lone sentry wandered too close, she struck like a snake, pulling him into the shadows and slitting his throat in one fluid motion. Not a sound escaped him.

Moving swiftly, she scaled the wall, using the uneven wood as footholds. Once at the top, she took out a small vial of black powder, sprinkling it along the wooden beams.

"A little insurance."

She dropped down inside, sticking to the shadows.

The encampment was bustling—mercenaries sharpening weapons, deserters drinking, and soldiers counting stolen coin. In the center stood a large tent—the command tent.

That’s where Darius Flint would be.

The Confrontation

Seraphis slipped inside the tent silently.

Darius Flint sat at a makeshift war table, studying a map by candlelight. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar down his jaw, his armor still bearing the emblem of the knights he had betrayed.

She let the flap close behind her.

"Captain Flint," she said coolly.

The man stiffened before slowly looking up.

"Who—?"

His hand shot to his sword, but Seraphis was faster. She threw a dagger, embedding it in his shoulder, forcing him back into his chair.

"You're quite the disgrace," she mused, circling him.

His eyes burned with rage.

"The nobles you serve are the real criminals!" he spat.

Seraphis tilted her head.

"Oh, I don’t serve anyone. I just kill for money."

She lunged, slashing his arm before he could retaliate. Flint roared in pain, kicking the table over and drawing his sword despite his injury.

The fight was brutal—steel clashing, sparks flying. Flint was strong, experienced. But Seraphis was faster.

She dodged his swings with unnatural agility, weaving through his attacks like a specter. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent a poisoned needle flying into his neck.

Flint stumbled. His sword clattered to the ground.

His breaths grew labored, his vision blurring.

"That venom will paralyze you in thirty seconds," she murmured. "You should have stayed a knight."

He tried to speak, but his body betrayed him.

Seraphis stepped forward, placed a hand on his forehead, and twisted his neck with a sickening snap.

Captain Darius Flint was dead.

Burning the Rebellion

Seraphis didn’t linger. She set fire to the command tent, then detonated the black powder she had placed earlier. Explosions rocked the camp, sending soldiers into chaos.

She escaped into the forest, leaving behind nothing but flames and corpses.

The Return to the Guild

By sunrise, Seraphis stood before the Guild Master once more, tossing Flint’s severed emblem onto his desk.

He picked it up, inspecting it with a smirk.

"Efficient as always."

He slid a heavy pouch of platinum toward her and a single black leather book—the restricted assassin techniques.

Seraphis picked them up, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Pleasure doing business."

And with that, she disappeared into the shadows once more.