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

The wind carried the scent of dust and age as Seraphis walked deeper into the heart of the town. Her white hair fluttered behind her, her eyes scanning the buildings that lined the cracked cobblestone street. Her hand dipped into her pocket for a moment—empty.

She halted, then snapped her fingers.

Fwhip.

Her assassin’s guild card materialized instantly, tucked neatly back into her coat pocket.

“I almost forgot that,” she muttered, smirking to herself as she continued down the road.

She soon found what she was looking for: a large, sturdy building made of weathered stone and oak. Vines once crawled across its surface like veins—but someone had recently cut them back. Jagged ends still clung to the walls, but the entrance was clean and well-kept.

“At least they keep up with the cleaning,” she noted approvingly.

Above the wide double doors was a wooden sign engraved with a golden crest: a coin flanked by wings. The Merchant Guild.

She pushed the door open and stepped into a wide, polished hall lit by hanging lanterns. The interior had a luxurious but aged look—high ceilings, velvet drapes, and long staircases winding up to upper levels. The main lobby was quiet but active, with a few well-dressed merchants moving about, whispering about trade, taxes, and turbulent times.

Behind the central desk stood a young woman with tidy auburn hair and gold-trimmed glasses. She glanced up and gave a polite smile.

“Welcome to the Nordhagen Branch of the Merchant Guild. How can I help you, miss?”

Seraphis walked forward, her steps graceful and commanding. “I’d like to speak with the Guild Master.”

The receptionist blinked. “Do you… have an appointment?”

Seraphis’s smile turned sly. “No,” she said, reaching into her coat. “But will this work?”

She placed a small, glowing crystal orb on the desk. It shimmered softly, radiating a halo of ethereal light that shifted with every breath of air.

“Tell him… that the name of this artifact is Echo of Eternity.”

The woman’s expression froze for a moment. Then she nodded quickly. “O-Of course. Please wait a moment.”

She scooped up the orb like it was a holy relic and turned, hurrying up the grand staircase. Seraphis remained still, her hands clasped behind her back.

The receptionist reached the third floor, her heels clicking urgently down the polished hall. She stopped at a heavy door carved with runes and knocked firmly.

“Excuse me, sir,” she called. “There’s a lady downstairs. She says she has something to show you.”

A gruff voice replied, irritated. “Tell her I’m busy!”

“But, sir… she said it was something called the Echo of Eter—”

The door swung open before she could finish. The man who stood there was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in merchant robes lined with gold thread. His sharp, calculating eyes widened the moment he saw the orb in her hand. His fingers trembled.

He reached out and took it gently, as though it were made of fragile dreams. His knees buckled slightly as the orb shimmered in his grasp.

“Where did she get this?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“She… didn’t say, sir,” the receptionist said quietly. “She just handed it to me.”

“Bring her up to me. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Back downstairs, the receptionist returned, still visibly shaken. “The Guild Master would like to see you,” she said.

Seraphis gave her a slow smile. “Of course.”

On the third floor, Seraphis was shown into a lavish office. Rich velvet curtains covered tall windows. A long table filled with scrolls, maps, and trade manifests stretched across the room. At its head sat the Guild Master himself, still holding the Echo of Eternity like a man afraid to wake from a dream.

“My name is… Roland Duskworth,” he said slowly, eyes locked on the orb. Then he looked up at her sharply. “How the fuck did you get this?”

Seraphis sat in the chair across from him, crossed her legs, and calmly slid her assassin’s guild card across the table.

He picked it up—and nearly dropped it.

“SS-Rank… White Raven?” His voice cracked. “You’re her?”

Seraphis nodded. “That’s how I got it.”

Roland was silent, his mind racing. After a moment, Seraphis leaned forward.

“I have a proposal for you,” she said. “Trade with my town—and you could get more relics like that one.”

He blinked. “What’s the catch?”

Seraphis smiled. “You’re smart. You already know there’s a catch.”

Roland chuckled uneasily. “Let’s hear it.”

“You have to spread the word about a game.”

“A game?” His brows shot up.

“Yes,” she said, eyes gleaming. “You know my profession. I’ve uncovered multiple ancient artifacts. And in this game… you could win them.”

She stood, slowly pacing as she explained. “You build a team. Compete. If you win—you get another relic. Plus, you trade with my town. It's a win-win. Wealth and power for those with skill.”

“What’s the name of the game?”

Seraphis turned and smiled. “The Moonlight Marksmanship.”

She began to explain.

Each team had four members. The goal? Capture the four towers placed throughout a massive arena. Victory could be claimed in two ways: either eliminate the enemy leader

There were five colored teams—white, black, red, brown, and green. Each faction had its own style and strategy.

“But there’s more,” she added. “This game isn’t just physical. It’s about strategy, magic, and skill. Archery, spells, illusions—anything goes.”

“Sounds like chaos,” Roland muttered, intrigued.

“Controlled chaos,” she corrected. “And the magic changes depending on how many towers you capture. At the start, your powers are weakened. But every tower you take restores part of your magic. More towers, more power.”

She held up a finger. “There are also three difficulty levels.”

“Level 1: No pain. No danger. Practice mode. Weapons are illusions.
Level 2: Real pain. Real stakes. You feel it—but you can’t die.
Level 3…” She let the word linger. “Level 3 is dangerous. You can lose a limb. You can feel death… before being teleported to the safe zone. Only the brave—or the foolish—choose it.”

Roland leaned forward. “And you’re saying I can win more artifacts like this?”

Seraphis pointed to the Echo of Eternity. “Even greater treasures await. If you participate. If you win.”

“And how does the town play into this?” he asked.

She smiled. “The town is called Moonlight Town. In the heart of it, three massive holograms will show the games to all. Merchants can sell to the spectators. You can trade rare goods, weapons, enchantments—anything. In return, you gain exclusive rights, knowledge, and influence.”

“And the rules?” he pressed.

Seraphis nodded. The rest? Fair game. Team tactics, ambushes, traps—use your head.”

“And the rest of the modes?”

“There’s one-on-one duels,” she said. “And… free-for-alls. No teams. No alliances. Just chaos. The prize for winning those? More valuable than even that relic in your hand.”

Roland stared at her for a long moment, the gears in his mind turning.

Then he leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“…You have my attention.”