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

The entrance to the underground tunnels lay hidden beneath the overgrown ruins east of the city—a forgotten place, swallowed by time. Seraphis stood at the crumbling archway, her breath steady, her fingers resting lightly on the hilts of her daggers. The night air carried the faint scent of damp stone and decay, a warning of the horrors that lurked below.

She adjusted her mask, covering her mouth and nose, and descended into the darkness.

The first thing she noticed was the silence.

Not the peaceful stillness of an abandoned place—but an unnatural quiet, the kind that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Her boots barely made a sound as she moved deeper into the tunnels, her hands resting on her weapons, ready for anything. The walls were lined with old carvings—symbols of an ancient time. Some were broken, others defaced, but one thing was clear: this place had been forgotten for a reason.

And yet, someone had brought it back to life.

The deeper she went, the stronger the metallic scent of blood became.

She paused at an intersection, scanning the ground. Footprints—recent. Leading left. She followed them, her movements slow, calculated.

The tunnel opened into a chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches. At the center stood a metal cage, large enough to hold a dozen people.

Inside, they were still alive.

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene—men and women, some barely conscious, others trembling in silence. Their eyes were wide with fear, but no one dared to scream. A sign that they had learned the consequences.

A sound to her right—footsteps.

She pressed herself against the cold stone, listening. More than one. Heavily armored. A guard patrol.

She reached into her belt, pulling out three playing cards. With a flick of her wrist, she sent them spinning through the air. The cards cut through the dim light, embedding into their targets' throats before they could react. A gurgled gasp. A thud.

Silence again.

Seraphis retrieved the cards, then approached the cage. A woman with bruises on her arms looked up, hope flickering in her dull eyes.

“Are you here to kill us too?” she whispered.

Seraphis crouched down. “No.” She pulled a lockpick from her belt and worked the mechanism. “I’m getting you out of here.”

A click.

The cage door swung open.

“Quietly,” she ordered, helping the woman to her feet. “How many more?”

“Tunnels below,” the woman whispered. “This is just where they keep us before they take us down. The real… experiments are deeper.”

Seraphis’s blood ran cold.

She handed the woman a dagger. “Take the others and run. Stay low, move fast. I’ll handle the rest.”

The woman hesitated. “Who are you?”

Seraphis pulled her mask up higher. “A ghost.”

Then she turned and disappeared into the deeper tunnels.

The Depths of Hell

As she moved, the air grew heavier

The corridor sloped downward, leading into a cavernous space where the walls pulsed faintly, like a living thing. The torches here burned a sickly green, casting unnatural shadows.

And then she saw them.

Cages—rows of them—filled with people who were no longer entirely human. Their eyes glowed with an eerie light, their bodies covered in deep scars, some stitched together from different parts.

The experiments.

At the far end of the chamber, a figure in dark robes stood over a restrained prisoner, holding a blade infused with pulsing, crimson energy.

Seraphis didn’t wait.

She flicked a single card into the torch, killing the light.

Then she moved.

The first guard fell before he could react, her dagger sliding into the weak point of his armor. The second turned, sword raised—but her cards were faster, slicing across his throat in an instant.

By the time the torches flared back to life, half the room was already dead.

The robed figure stumbled back, his hand glowing with arcane power. “Who dares—”

Seraphis didn’t let him finish.

A flick of her wrist, and a playing card pierced his wrist, forcing him to drop the dagger. He screamed, clutching the wound, his magic fizzling out.

She stepped closer, her voice deadly calm. “Who sent you?”

The man’s breath hitched. “Y-you don’t understand. The nobles—House Avalon—they wanted this. They needed a new kind of soldier. A stronger one.”

Seraphis had heard enough.

With a single, clean motion, she slashed his throat.

The Fire Rises

She turned to the prisoners, many of whom were beyond saving. Some were already dead, their bodies failed experiments. But for those who still had a spark of life left—

She would not leave them here.

She scattered her remaining cards across the room, engraving them with a single word: burn.

Then she turned and walked away as the chamber erupted into flames behind her.

The tunnels shook, the ancient walls crumbling as fire consumed the horrors within.

By the time she reached the surface, dawn was breaking, and the city lay still in the distance.

But in the underground ruins, screams of the dying noble experiments faded into silence.

Seraphis pulled her hood lower and vanished into the morning light.

She wasn’t done yet.

House Avalon had made a mistake.

And now, they would pay.