"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin" Chapter 120: Fear in the Ivory Tower

A Second Gathering in the Dark

The air inside the Ivory Tower’s council chamber was thick with unease. The sa golden chandeliers that had once glead with authority now cast restless shadows across the stone walls. The tension in the room was palpable, heavier than before.

The nobles, warlords, and conspirators who sat around the long table were no longer just anxious—they were afraid.

The bounty they had placed on Seraphis, Elowen, and Sylvaine had gone unclaid.

Not a single assassin had stepped forward.

Not a single rcenary had attempted the hunt.

It was unheard of.

No bounty, no matter how high, had ever been ignored before.

Lord Belvane’s fingers drumd against the wood of the table, his expression unreadable beneath his onyx-embellished ivory mask. His silence alone was unsettling.

But it was Lady Isolde Carthis who finally shattered the stillness.

She leaned forward, her gloved fingers laced together.

“Do you know why no one has accepted the bounty?”

Her voice was smooth, sharp—like a blade gliding across silk.

The council mbers exchanged wary glances. No one spoke.

Until Duke Vaelin Renshaw, ever the skeptic, scoffed.

“Cowards. They're afraid of ghosts and rumors. That’s all those three assassins are—stories ant to frighten weaker n.”

Isolde’s gaze shifted to him, slow and deliberate.

She smiled.

“Cowards?” she repeated. “Tell , Vaelin, do you not know the na they whisper for Seraphis?”

He frowned. “She goes by many nas.”

Isolde’s smile widened, but it did not reach her eyes.

“Yes.”

Her voice dipped lower, colder.

“The first na you know already—the White Raven.”

A murmur spread through the room.

That na was infamous.

The White Raven, a ghost in the night, a shadow that descended upon those marked for death.

But Isolde wasn’t finished.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the table.

Then she uttered the na that sent a shiver through even the most hardened mbers of the Ivory Tower.

“The Executioner.”

A Na Drenched in Blood

Silence.

A cold, crawling silence.

Then, Lord Edric Hale, the hawk-masked noble, spoke. “The Executioner?” he repeated, his voice uncertain.

Isolde nodded. “Do you know why she is called that?”

No one answered.

She continued, voice steady, rciless.

“Because every ti soone stands against her, she beheads them.”

A few of the nobles shifted in their seats.

Isolde’s eyes darkened.

“Do you rember what she did to that guild? The one that stood against her?”

Several mbers nodded hesitantly.

They had heard the whispers—rumors of a massacre, a ssage carved in blood.

Isolde’s voice was unwavering as she recalled it aloud.

“She didn’t just kill them.”

She tilted her head, as if relishing the weight of her own words.

“She and her allies took the heads and put them on pikes. Lined them outside the guild like a gate of death.”

Baron Elwick, the youngest among them, paled visibly.

“That… that was real?”

Isolde turned her gaze to him, her expression unyielding.

“You’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you? The guild’s ruins still stand. And the pikes remain—bleached white under the sun.”

No one spoke.

No one dared to.

A ssage in Blood

Belvane finally moved, sitting back in his chair. His fingers steepled before him.

“That was only one guild.”

Isolde nodded. “Yes. But there was another.”

She let the silence stretch before delivering her next words.

“There was a traitor inside her own guild.”

Several mbers visibly tensed.

Betrayal was common in their world. But how Seraphis had handled it was what truly terrified them.

Isolde let out a breath, feigning nonchalance.

“She didn’t just kill him. She decapitated him in front of every mber of her guild.”

She paused for effect.

“Then she mounted his head on a shield. Placed it high on the second floor.”

Baron Elwick nearly gagged.

Duke Vaelin’s jaw tightened.

Even Lord Belvane’s grip on the table edge subtly shifted.

Isolde wasn’t done.

“And then she did the exact sa thing to that rival guild leader.”

Her smile returned, slow and deliberate.

“Tell , gentlen. Do you truly believe any assassin or rcenary will take a bounty against her?”

Why the Bounty Remains Untouched

Belvane’s fingers tapped once more against the wood.

“…Fear.”

Isolde nodded.

“It isn’t just the price of failure that keeps them away—it’s what she does to those who try.”

She let her words linger, letting the gravity of them sink into the minds of the council mbers.

“No one wants to be the next head on her collection.”

The room felt colder.

The Ivory Tower’s Dilemma

Lord Edric Hale clenched his fist. “So what do we do?”

Isolde tilted her head. “We adapt.”

Duke Vaelin scowled. “aning?”

She let her fingers glide over the table.

“We no longer treat her as a simple assassin. She is not just another problem to be silenced.”

Her voice hardened.

“She is an executioner. And if we do not change our strategy, she will co for all of us.”

Lord Belvane finally leaned forward. His voice, smooth and commanding, echoed through the chamber.

“Then we do what must be done.”

A New Plan

Belvane’s gaze swept across the table.

“If we cannot make her hunted, then we must make her hunted by those she fears.”

A few nobles frowned in confusion.

Then Isolde’s lips curled.

“You an… we hire killers even she would fear?”

Belvane nodded slowly.

“Exactly.”

Duke Vaelin exhaled sharply. “The only ones who would fit that criteria…”

He trailed off.

The room grew heavier.

Even uttering the nas of those assassins was dangerous.

Isolde’s smile remained.

“Then let’s reach out to them.”

The council mbers exchanged uneasy looks.

But no one protested.

Because in the end, they all knew the truth.

If they didn’t act now—

The Executioner would co for them next.