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

Seraphis sat against the rough bark of a tree, steadying her breath as the cool night air filled her lungs. Her body ached from the relentless battles, her limbs screaming for rest, but there was none to be had. A sharp pain flared in her chest—not from a wound, but from something deeper, something unnatural.

Then her vision shifted.

A dimly lit chamber stretched before her, its walls made of old stone, lined with alchemical tools and ancient artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of iron and decay. At the center of it all, seated in an ornate chair, was Countess Isolde Veyne.

Her violet eyes gleamed with amusement as she raised a goblet filled with something thick and red. Seraphis’ blood.

She swirled the liquid, watching it cling to the sides of the goblet before taking a slow, deliberate sip. A shudder of pleasure coursed through her, and then she laughed—a cruel, echoing sound that sent a chill down Seraphis’ spine.

The Countess then lifted her gaze, staring directly at her.

“I know where you are.”

The vision shattered.

Seraphis gasped, snapping back to reality, her heart pounding. She clenched her fists. The blood wasn’t just stolen—it was being used. That meant she wasn’t just being hunted; she was being toyed with.

Her eyes darkened with resolve.

She had to move now.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly, but Seraphis followed the pull in her veins—the unmistakable sensation of her own stolen essence. She moved swiftly, each step silent, her focus unwavering.

Minutes passed like hours, her senses on high alert. And then, she saw it.

An ancient stone doorway, half-buried under tangled roots and vines. The entrance pulsed faintly with dark energy.

Blood magic.

Seraphis reached out, pressing her fingers to the cold surface. The door responded

She didn’t hesitate.

The scent of blood and decay thickened as she moved deeper underground. Torches flickered along the walls, their weak flames barely pushing back the oppressive gloom.

Then—movement.

She froze, listening.

A whisper of cloth. The scrape of claws against stone.

Then they emerged.

A room full of vampires.

They stood in eerie silence, crimson eyes glowing in the dim light. One stepped forward, taller than the rest, a cruel smile curling across his lips.

“You’re persistent,” he mused, voice like silk.

Seraphis didn’t answer.

Instead, she moved.

A flick of her wrist sent a playing card spinning through the air, its edges glowing with a dark crimson light. The vampire moved to dodge, but the card was faster—it embedded itself in his chest.

The moment it touched him, it drank.

The vampire convulsed, a strangled scream escaping his lips as his body withered, veins turning black. Within seconds, he crumpled into a lifeless husk.

And then the others attacked.

They moved as one—a blur of fangs and claws.

Seraphis twisted

She caught them just in time.

The first vampire lunged.

She sidestepped, bringing a dagger up in a deadly arc. Steel met flesh, severing his throat in a clean, precise cut.

Another attacked from behind.

She spun, blocking with her second dagger, but claws raked across her arm, tearing fabric and skin. Pain flared, but she pushed through it.

A quick flick of her wrist sent a card flying—straight between his eyes.

He crumpled instantly.

More came.

She could hear the whispers of their movements, the rush of air as they closed in from all sides.

Her fingers found a black card in her deck—one she rarely used.

She threw it.

The moment it hit the ground, a pulse of dark energy erupted outward.

The chamber shook.

The nearest vampires screamed as shadows burst from the floor, ensnaring them, dragging them down into the abyss.

But there were too many.

Seraphis moved like a phantom, weaving through their attacks. Each strike was precise—a cut to the throat, a dagger through the heart.

But she was outnumbered.

A vampire landed a solid hit, slamming her against the stone wall. Pain jolted through her ribs as the air was forced from her lungs.

She didn’t let it stop her.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled her last resort—a blood-draining card.

She threw it toward the largest cluster of vampires.

It exploded midair, releasing a crimson mist that devoured them whole.

Their screams filled the chamber as their bodies withered, reduced to empty husks.

When the mist settled, only a few vampires remained.

Seraphis stood in the center of the carnage, blood dripping from her daggers.

The survivors hesitated.

She smirked.

“Run.”

They did.

The chamber was eerily silent.

Seraphis took a slow breath, wiping the blood from her blades. Her body ached, her wounds stinging with each movement.

But she had won.

Her gaze flickered to the far end of the room—to a single doorway.

The laboratory.

She stepped forward.