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

The silver glow of moonlight shimmered over the roofs of Moonlight Town as Seraphis stood near the center plaza, the soft hum of the magical hologram display echoing faintly around her. The streets were still quiet, buildings standing tall and empty—awaiting life.

Seraphis looked around with thoughtful eyes, arms crossed behind her back. “No… It’s time,” she murmured. “This town needs people. Purpose.”

Turning to Lysara, who stood nearby at the base of the watchtower, Seraphis gave a small nod.

“I think it’s time to populate Moonlight Town,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

Lysara raised a brow. “You mean… now?”

Seraphis turned to her, a sly smirk playing on her lips. “Yes. I’m going to bring people here. But while I’m gone, I want you to stay and watch over things—make sure nothing weird happens while I’m away.”

Lysara smiled and gave a dramatic salute. “Got it, my lady. I’ll keep this place standing.”

With a soft laugh, Seraphis lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. A shimmering portal spiraled into existence, glowing with faint blue energy. Without hesitation, she stepped through—and vanished from the Moonlight realm.

She emerged in the dense, emerald canopy of the Ravenwood Forest, a part of the original realm that stretched across several kingdoms. Towering trees loomed above her, their leaves rustling in the breeze. Birdsong filled the air, but Seraphis barely noticed. Her white hair fluttered around her face as she placed a finger to her chin in thought.

“Now… where can I find people?” she mused aloud, stepping forward slowly.

Then, a spark of mischief danced in her eyes as a thought struck her.

“The Kingdom of Nordhagen,” she whispered with a grin. “I’ve heard they’ve been suffering under a terrible king lately. Harsh laws. Famine. Suppression. A mess.” She giggled softly to herself, her eyes gleaming with playful malice. “How about I go… help him out a bit?”

With that, her form shimmered—feathers of light enveloping her body as she transformed into the White Raven, her majestic avian form taking flight. The trees parted beneath her as she soared through the sky, her wings cutting through the air like blades of moonlight.

The journey took little time at her speed. Soon, the sprawling lands of Nordhagen came into view—patches of forest surrounding fields left untended, and villages that looked more like ruins than homes. The oppression here was visible in the crumbling walls and the gaunt faces of the people. Seraphis frowned briefly… then descended toward one of the towns on the edge of the kingdom.

Her talons touched down on the cracked cobblestone of the town square, and in a burst of magic, she shifted back into her elven form—tall, elegant, clad in dark leathers with her white hair cascading over her shoulders and her eyes gleaming with silver light.

The townspeople barely noticed her as she walked through the streets. Heads were low, spirits crushed. But Seraphis had a destination in mind.

Soon, she found it: a modest two-story building marked with the faded insignia of a blade through an eye—the symbol of the Assassins Guild.

She entered without hesitation. The ground floor was dimly lit, filled with cloaked figures sitting at mismatched tables, murmuring in hushed tones. The scent of oil, leather, and secrecy hung thick in the air.

Seraphis strode confidently past them, her boots silent against the stone floor. She ascended the stairs to the second floor, not bothering to knock before delivering a sharp kick to the large oak door at the end of the hall.

The door slammed open with a thunderous bang, slamming against the inner wall and making papers fly off a desk inside.

A man behind the desk shot up, startled. He was middle-aged, with graying hair and sharp eyes. His hand darted toward the dagger at his belt—but paused the moment he saw her.

“Who the hell are you?!” he snapped, eyes narrowing.

Seraphis didn’t answer with words. Instead, she reached into her coat and flicked a small metal card across the room. It spun through the air and landed neatly on his desk with a clink.

He looked down, grabbed it—and paled.

The card was jet black with a silver insignia burned into the surface. The mark of the White Raven. An SS-rank assassin, one of the highest-ranking individuals within the guild system. Few ever reached that level, and even fewer survived encountering one.

“I… I don’t think I did anything to make you mad,” he stammered, holding the card like it might explode. “White Raven…”

Seraphis stepped inside, her expression playful but dangerous.

“You didn’t,” she said simply. “I just wanted to be a little dramatic. You know how it is.”

The guild representative chuckled nervously, setting the card down as he sat back into his chair. “Well… you got my attention. What do you want?”

Seraphis leaned forward, her eyes glinting with interest. “I want to know about the townspeople. This place is clearly suffering, and I have use for those who want to escape their miserable fates.”

He blinked, then slowly nodded. “You’re not wrong. Things have been bad. Real bad. The king’s taxes have crushed half the townships, and the rest are being forced to serve or starve. The guild barely keeps afloat by doing jobs for nobles just to feed ourselves.”

“And the common folk?” she asked, voice colder now.

“Worse off. Hungry. Angry. Ready to riot—but too scared to try.”

Seraphis smiled faintly, a spark of promise in her voice. “Then I’ll give them a way out. A new home. Somewhere they can be safe.”

“You’re… planning to take them with you?” he asked, unsure. “How many?”

“As many as I can,” she said, turning toward the door. “Let them know. A new life is coming. And this time, the raven watches over them.”

Then she vanished down the hall, leaving the stunned representative staring at her card, still glowing faintly on his desk.