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

The forest was silent.

Not the natural silence of the wild, where the wind whispered through the leaves and unseen creatures rustled in the underbrush. No, this was an unnatural stillness—a predator’s silence. The kind that only came when death loomed nearby.

I crouched beside the wounded man, watching as he clutched his wrist. Blood dripped between his fingers, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Fear flickered behind his eyes, but defiance was still there, buried beneath pain and desperation.

I needed information.

And I was running out of patience.

I flicked a playing card between my fingers, letting the metal glint in the dim light. He flinched at the sight of it, his grip on his useless hand tightening.

“Who sent you?” I asked again, my voice calm.

No answer.

I tilted my head, studying him. He was trained. Not a common mercenary or a desperate hunter looking for coin. His posture, his discipline, the way he had moved through the forest—this man was used to tracking dangerous prey.

Which meant he wasn’t alone.

I sighed. “You’re making this difficult.”

Still no response.

Fine.

I flicked my wrist, and another card shot forward. Not to kill—just to make a point. It sliced across his thigh, a shallow cut, but deep enough to hurt.

He bit back a grunt, his jaw tightening. His fingers twitched, as if still trying to reach for his fallen blade.

“Don’t bother,” I murmured. “You’re already dead. Whether it’s now or later depends on how useful you make yourself.”

A tremor ran through him.

Good.

“I don’t—” He swallowed. “I don’t know who hired us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Try again.”

His breath came quicker now, his pulse visible at his throat. He was debating whether silence was worth his life.

I decided to help him make the right choice.

I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you know what an illusionist can do?”

He swallowed hard.

“I can make you feel things,” I continued. “Pain that isn’t real, wounds that don’t exist—until your mind makes them real.” I trailed a finger through the blood dripping from his hand. “If I wanted to, I could make you believe I was carving the flesh from your bones, piece by piece. And your body? It would react accordingly.”

His breath hitched.

“Or,” I said, flicking another card into my palm, “you can tell me what I want to know, and I can make your death quick.”

Silence stretched between us.

Then, finally—

“A noble,” he rasped. “A man from the city.”

I didn’t react, but my mind sharpened. “Name.”

“I—” He winced. “I never met him directly. Just a message. High pay, vague details. We were told to look for someone in the forest, a… threat.”

A vague answer, but enough to confirm my suspicions. Someone in the city had taken an interest in me. That was a problem.

“Who else is searching?”

He hesitated. “More hunters. Some are already here. Others might come later.”

I studied him for a long moment, then stood. “That’s all I needed.”

Relief flickered in his eyes—until he realized what I meant.

He lunged.

A last, desperate attempt.

I didn’t move.

My card was already flying before he could reach me. It struck true—straight through his throat.

A gurgled sound escaped him as he staggered back, blood bubbling at his lips. He dropped to his knees, eyes wide with shock, before collapsing into the dirt.

I stepped back, exhaling slowly.

No satisfaction. No guilt. Just the cold efficiency of necessity.

I crouched, retrieving my card and wiping it clean before slipping it back into my deck.

Then, I turned my gaze toward the distant glow of the city lights on the horizon.

So, they were looking for me.

Then I’d make sure they found exactly what they feared.

The real hunt was about to begin.