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

A Special Assignment

The air in the Guild Master’s office was heavy with the scent of ink, parchment, and candle wax. The flickering flames from the iron sconces on the walls cast long shadows over the wooden desk where Seraphis stood, her silver eyes locked onto the old man sitting before her.

The Guild Master leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together. His gaze was sharp, as if measuring her reaction before he spoke.

"I have a special mission for you, Seraphis."

Her lips curved into a faint smirk. A special mission? That meant it wasn’t just another noble with too much ambition or a merchant tangled in corruption.

He reached into his desk and pulled out a sealed parchment, sliding it across the wooden surface.

"This target is unlike any you’ve faced before," he said.

Seraphis picked up the parchment, breaking the wax seal with her thumb. As her eyes scanned the words, her smirk faded.

Target: "The Ghost"

• Identity: Unknown

• Alias: The Ghost

• Occupation: Master of Disguise, Manipulator, and Assassin

• Crimes:

  • Pulling the strings behind countless crimes—assassinations, theft, and political sabotage.

  • Infiltrating powerful organizations and manipulating them from within.

  • Selling state secrets to the highest bidder.

Seraphis narrowed her eyes.

"No name, no face. Sounds like a rumor, not a target."

The Guild Master chuckled.

"Oh, they’re real. And they’re dangerous. The Ghost has been operating in the kingdom’s shadows for over a decade. They change faces, voices, and mannerisms so seamlessly that no one knows who they truly are. Even their victims don’t realize they’ve met The Ghost until it’s too late."

Seraphis tapped a finger against her arm.

"How do I find someone who doesn’t exist?"

The Guild Master’s expression darkened.

"That’s the challenge. But we have a lead. The Ghost will be attending an underground masquerade in the capital—an event where criminals and nobles alike wear masks to strike their secret deals. Your job is to infiltrate, identify The Ghost, and eliminate them."

Seraphis smirked.

"Sounds fun."

But she had no illusions—this would be her most dangerous target yet.

The Masquerade of Shadows

The underground masquerade was held in an abandoned cathedral deep within the capital’s slums. Once a place of worship, it had long since been converted into a den of sin and secrecy.

Gargoyles loomed over the entrance, their stone eyes seeming to watch every guest who passed through. The stained-glass windows had been shattered, replaced by thick velvet drapes that kept out prying eyes.

Seraphis arrived dressed in black, her identity hidden beneath an intricate silver mask. Around her, masked nobles, merchants, and criminals whispered and schemed, exchanging gold, secrets, and blood-soaked promises.

But she wasn’t here for games.

Somewhere in this room, The Ghost lurked—wearing a mask like everyone else.

The Game of Deception

Seraphis moved through the crowd, listening carefully.

Soft murmurs, shifting glances. Deals being made.

Then she heard it—a laugh, perfectly practiced, slipping through the air like silk.

She turned her head.

A masked figure in an elegant crimson cloak stood at the edge of the room, speaking to a noble. Their voice was smooth, confident—yet it felt… rehearsed.

Too perfect.

Seraphis narrowed her eyes.

"Found you."

She approached, weaving through the sea of masked figures. The moment she was close, the figure in crimson turned their gaze toward her, as if sensing the hunt.

Their mask was porcelain white, their expression unreadable.

"Ah, a new face," they said smoothly. The voice was different now—deeper, richer.

Seraphis smirked.

"Perhaps. Or maybe I'm just another mask, like you."

The Ghost tilted their head, intrigued.

"A fascinating thought. But tell me… why are you really here?"

Seraphis met their gaze.

"To end a story that’s gone on too long."

For the first time, The Ghost faltered.

Then, they moved.

A Battle in the Dark

The Ghost lunged without warning, their cloak flaring as they drew twin daggers.

Seraphis dodged inches before the blades sliced where her throat had been.

She retaliated with a spinning kick, but The Ghost twisted away, moving with unnatural grace.

"You're quick," they mused.

Seraphis drew her own daggers.

"Quicker than you."

She rushed forward, blades flashing, aiming for The Ghost’s ribs.

Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying as their weapons met in a deadly rhythm.

The Ghost moved like water—flowing, adapting, shifting styles mid-motion. One moment, they fought like a trained soldier. The next, they moved like a street brawler.

Seraphis wasn’t fighting one person.

She was fighting every identity The Ghost had ever worn.

The Killing Blow

The fight spilled into a side corridor, away from prying eyes.

Seraphis ducked low, dodging a dagger aimed at her heart.

The Ghost was fast. Too fast.

But Seraphis had something they didn’t.

Experience.

She feinted left—but the real strike came from below.

Her blade sank into The Ghost’s side.

The assassin let out a sharp gasp, staggering back.

"Clever," they rasped.

Seraphis grabbed them by the mask, ripping it off.

Underneath was a shifting face—as if The Ghost had worn so many disguises that they no longer had a true identity.

But Seraphis didn’t hesitate.

With one swift motion, she swung her blade—severing The Ghost’s head.

The body collapsed, lifeless.

The Return to the Guild

Seraphis walked through the Assassin’s Guild doors, her own blood staining her side from a wound The Ghost had managed to land.

She tossed the severed head onto the Guild Master's desk.

The old man raised an eyebrow.

"I see you lived."

Seraphis smirked, wiping blood from her cheek.

"Barely."

The Guild Master leaned forward, examining the lifeless face.

"No true identity. No past. Just a mask upon a mask."

He exhaled slowly.

"The Ghost is finally dead."

Seraphis rolled her shoulder, wincing slightly.

"What’s next?"

The Guild Master chuckled.

"Rest. For now."

Seraphis smirked.

"We both know that won’t happen."

Because the shadows never stayed quiet for long.