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

Seraphis leaned against the base of a gnarled oak, her breath slow and measured. Her shoulder throbbed, the deep puncture from the vampire's bite still burning with a cold, unnatural chill.

Blood seeped through the tear in her cloak, staining the fabric a deep crimson.

She reached into her satchel, pulling out a small glass vial filled with a shimmering silver liquid.

It was a special potion—one of her own design. A mixture of healing herbs, enchanted silver dust, and the venom of a nightcrawler serpent.

With a practiced motion, she popped the cork and poured the contents over her wound.

A sharp, searing pain shot through her shoulder as the potion began to sizzle against the infected bite. The silver dust burned away the vampire’s lingering magic, and for a brief moment, her vision blurred from the pain.

Then—relief.

The wound knitted itself back together, the skin regaining its natural warmth.

Seraphis exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulder to test its mobility.

Good as new.

But just as she steadied herself—

A shift in the air.

A whisper of movement.

Then—a chilling presence.

She didn’t need to turn around.

She felt them.

Eyes watching from the darkness.

Twenty.

Twenty vampires emerged from the shadows, their figures blending into the blackened forest like ghosts of the night.

Each one moved with a deadly elegance, their crimson eyes gleaming like dying embers in the moonlight.

Seraphis remained still.

Calculating.

Waiting.

Then, one of them—a tall figure clad in an old noble’s coat, his fangs glinting under the pale moon—stepped forward.

"You have killed our kin." His voice was smooth, almost melodic, but laced with a dangerous edge. "And yet, you still stand."

Seraphis said nothing.

He tilted his head.

"I must commend you. Few survive an encounter with even one of us. You’ve slain three."

He took another step forward, the others moving in a slow predatory circle around her.

"But twenty?" He smirked. "Even you must realize this is your end."

Seraphis let out a slow breath.

Her fingers brushed against the deck of playing cards strapped to her waist.

She wasn’t dead yet.

Not even close.

Seraphis had many weapons.

Her daggers.

Her razor-sharp playing cards.

But there was one card she had never used before.

The Blood Card.

It was a single, cursed playing card forged with ancient magic—imbued with the ability to siphon the life force of its victims and transfer it to its wielder.

A dangerous weapon.

One that required blood to be activated.

Seraphis smiled.

"You talk too much," she said.

Then, in a blur of motion, she drew the Blood Card.

The moment the card left her fingers, the air itself seemed to tremble.

A low hum vibrated through the forest as black and red tendrils of energy swirled around the enchanted card. The very ground beneath her darkened, as if being swallowed by an unseen force.

The lead vampire’s smirk faltered.

"What is that?"

Seraphis didn’t answer.

Because at that moment—

The card activated.

The Blood Card ripped through the air, moving faster than even the keenest vampire eye could track.

Its surface shimmered like liquid crimson, pulsing with an eerie heartbeat.

The moment it reached the first vampire—

It struck.

Not like a blade.

Not like a bullet.

Like a leech.

The card latched onto the vampire’s chest, and in an instant, the creature screamed.

His body convulsed as veins of dark red light spread across his skin, his blood draining into the card.

Within seconds, he collapsed into a withered husk.

His body crumbled into dust.

The vampires froze.

"Impossible."

Seraphis smiled, her eyes glowing with the power of the absorbed blood.

"Who's next?"

Chaos erupted.

The vampires lunged as one, their movements a blur of darkness.

Seraphis threw herself into the fray, her remaining cards whirling through the air like a deadly cyclone.

One vampire came from her left.

She ducked under his swipe, slashing her dagger across his throat in a single, precise motion.

Another from behind.

She twisted, kicking off a tree branch to launch herself upward, narrowly avoiding clawed fingers aiming for her spine.

Then—she called the Blood Card back.

It returned to her hand instantly, dripping with the stolen life force of its last victim.

Without hesitation, she threw it again.

It struck another vampire—

This time, three others screamed in agony as their blood was drained along with him.

Seraphis moved like a phantom, dodging between the attacks, using her daggers and cards in perfect synchronization.

But they were relentless.

She slashed—one fell.

She threw—another turned to dust.

Yet they kept coming.

Sweat dripped down her brow.

Even with the Blood Card draining their numbers, she was outnumbered.

One of the vampires managed to land a hit.

A clawed hand ripped through her side, and pain exploded through her ribs.

Seraphis staggered, her vision swimming.

The vampires sensed weakness.

They pounced.

But she wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

Through the pain, she grabbed the Blood Card once more—this time pressing it against her own wound.

It pulsed.

And then—

She absorbed the stolen blood.

Energy flooded her veins, her wounds sealing instantly.

She laughed.

"Did you think I wouldn’t use it on myself?"

The vampires hesitated.

Seraphis took one step forward.

They took a step back.

And then—

She unleashed hell.

The Blood Card became a storm.

It tore through the air, ripping through the vampires one by one.

Their screams filled the night, but no one would come to save them.

Seraphis danced between their attacks, cutting, slashing, draining the very life from their bodies.

Ten left.

Seven.

Five.

Three.

Two.

One.

The final vampire stared at her in horror, his body shaking.

"You… you are a monster."

Seraphis tilted her head.

"So are you."

Then—

She threw the card one last time.

It pierced his heart.

And as the last vampire crumbled to dust, the night fell silent once more.

Seraphis stood there, her body drenched in the blood of her enemies, the Blood Card pulsing in her hand.

She had won.

But the night was far from over.