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

The city was uneasy.

Seraphis could feel it in the air as she walked through the crowded streets, the murmurs of fear blending into the usual bustle of merchants and travelers. Something was wrong. The shadows were heavier than usual, pressing in from the alleyways, and even the city guards looked restless, their hands never straying far from their weapons.

She adjusted her mask, letting it sit comfortably over her nose and mouth as she made her way to the guild. The Assassin’s Guild rarely took requests concerning civilians—unless the situation called for it.

And judging by the urgency in the guildmaster’s summons, this one did.

As she entered his office, the old man was already waiting, his fingers tapping against the heavy wooden desk. A single candle flickered, casting jagged shadows across the stone walls.

“You’ve heard the rumors,” he said without preamble.

“People disappearing,” Seraphis replied, leaning against the wall. “Mostly young women and children.”

The guildmaster nodded. “Whoever is behind it is organized. The kidnappings happen at night, and there are never any witnesses. The city guards have nothing. The nobles pretend it’s not happening.”

Seraphis narrowed her eyes. “And you want me to do what they can’t?”

“I want you to do what you do best. Find them. End them.”

She pulled the mission parchment closer, scanning the details. The disappearances had been concentrated around the university district—where the wealthier students and scholars lived. That was unusual. If it had been in the slums, no one would have cared. But this? Someone was getting bold.

“I assume the bodies haven’t been found.”

The guildmaster exhaled, his expression dark. “No bodies. No ransom. Just gone.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly. That meant one of two things—either the victims were being sold, or they were being used for something worse.

Either way, she would put an end to it.

She turned on her heel, already calculating her approach. “Consider it done.”

Nightfall: The Hunt Begins

The university district was eerily silent at night, the grand buildings casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. Seraphis moved like a wraith, sticking to the rooftops, her eyes scanning the streets below.

The city guard was present, but barely. They patrolled in lazy loops, uninterested in solving a problem that didn’t immediately threaten them.

Her first stop was a small tavern near the university entrance—a place where students, professors, and visiting scholars often gathered. If there were any whispers about the disappearances, this would be the place to hear them.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale and cheap perfume. Conversations overlapped, but Seraphis was trained to pick apart the noise. She slipped into a shadowed corner, listening.

“…another one gone. That’s three this week.”

“I heard the last one vanished inside the university grounds. How does that even happen?”

Seraphis focused on that voice—a nervous scholar clutching his drink tightly. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds, his leg bouncing under the table.

She moved silently, slipping into the seat across from him before he even noticed. When he finally did, he nearly dropped his cup.

“You seem tense,” she said quietly.

He swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know anything.”

Seraphis placed a single playing card on the table and slid it toward him. It wasn’t a threat—yet.

“I think you do.”

The scholar looked around, leaning in. “There’s a professor. A man named Valtor. He studies… strange things. Forbidden things. And lately, people who talk to him tend to disappear.”

Seraphis lifted the card and flipped it between her fingers. “Where do I find him?”

The scholar hesitated, then whispered, “West Tower. Third floor. He stays late, long after everyone else is gone.”

Seraphis didn’t respond. She was already gone.

The West Tower

The West Tower loomed over the university, its windows dark except for a faint glow on the third floor. Seraphis moved silently along the outer wall, scaling it with practiced ease. When she reached the window, she peered inside.

The room was filled with books, scrolls, and—cages.

Some were empty. Some were not.

Inside, a man in dark robes stood over a table, scribbling notes beside a motionless body. His features were sharp, his eyes alight with something unnatural. As Seraphis watched, he picked up a small, curved knife and ran it down the victim’s arm. A thin line of blood trickled down—but the body didn’t react.

Not dead. Drugged.

Seraphis had seen enough.

She flicked her wrist, sending a playing card spinning into the room. It curved through the air before embedding itself in the professor’s hand, pinning it to the desk.

Valtor screamed, but before he could react further, Seraphis was inside, her blade pressed against his throat.

“Talk,” she ordered.

He gritted his teeth, trying to pull his hand free. “You… you don’t understand.”

Seraphis twisted the card. “I don’t need to.”

“Experiments,” he gasped. “Not… not my idea. Someone funding me.”

She didn’t blink. “Who?”

Valtor hesitated. That was a mistake.

Seraphis drove the blade into his gut, twisting it just enough to send a clear message.

“Who?” she repeated.

He gasped, blood bubbling at his lips. “House… Avalon.”

Her grip tightened. The noble family she had framed before.

So this was their counterattack.

She leaned in close. “Where are the missing people?”

Valtor’s breath was ragged now. “Underground… beneath the ruins east of the city… tunnels.”

Seraphis didn’t hesitate. One swift motion, and the professor’s body slumped against the desk, lifeless.

She wiped her blade clean, then turned to the cages.

Somewhere beneath the ruins, more victims were waiting.

She was going to find them. And she was going to make House Avalon regret ever playing this game.

To be continued…