"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin" Chapter 220 – The Second Execution: Shadows and Forbidden Kn

he hunt did not end with Ralzan Valefor.

It had only just begun.

Seraphis stood on the outskirts of the burning estate, her expression unreadable as she watched the flas consu the remnants of House Valefor’s patriarch.

His death had been swift.

But the next target would not fall so easily.

She unrolled the parchnt, her fingers tracing the na she had written in crimson ink.

Lady Mircea Valefor.

A shadowmancer. A woman who did not fight with steel but with the minds of others.

She was known for her puppetry. Her ability to break wills.

And Seraphis was about to break hers.

The wind howled through the valley as she vanished into the night, her blades humming with anticipation.

The Ascent to House Mircea

The estate of Lady Mircea Valefor lay in the heart of the northern cliffs, perched atop jagged rock like a vulture waiting for death.

A single path led upward, winding through the mist-drenched landscape.

No guards.

No patrols.

Only silence.

Seraphis moved cautiously, her boots barely making a sound against the worn stone.

But the air was thick.

It slled of rot.

Of sothing unnatural.

She tightened her grip on her daggers, the weight familiar in her hands.

Then—

A whisper.

Not of the wind.

But a voice in her mind.

“Co closer, assassin.”

She froze.

And then the shadows moved.

The Ambush

From the darkness, figures erged—twisted forms, their limbs elongated, their eyes empty voids.

Shadow constructs.

They lunged.

Seraphis leapt back, her blades flashing in the moonlight.

The first construct struck—its clawed hand slicing through the air.

She twisted, barely avoiding the attack.

The second lunged low, aiming for her legs.

She jumped, flipping midair, and landed behind it.

A dagger plunged into its spine.

But—

There was no flesh.

No blood.

Only darkness.

The construct dissolved, reforming behind her.

She had seconds to react.

Too slow.

A claw raked across her side.

Pain flared, sharp and imdiate, but she bit it down.

No ti for pain.

No ti for hesitation.

She moved, a blur of speed, slashing, dodging, countering.

The constructs surrounded her.

One after another.

A relentless, suffocating storm of shadows.

And then—

The voice returned.

“You cannot win.”

Lady Mircea Valefor was watching.

The Mistress of Shadows

The constructs halted.

And the darkness parted.

Mircea stepped forward, her presence suffocating.

She was tall, elegant, her raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders like liquid night.

Her eyes—cold, amused—studied Seraphis with curiosity.

“You killed my husband.”

Seraphis wiped the blood from her lip, saying nothing.

“I suppose I should thank you,” Mircea continued, stepping forward. “He was always too arrogant. Too blind to see what lurked in the darkness.”

She raised a pale hand—

And the shadows surged.

A wall of darkness crashed forward, swallowing everything in its path.

Seraphis dove, rolling beneath the tide of blackness, her heart hamring.

Mircea laughed.

A cruel, knowing sound.

“Run, little assassin. Let’s see how long you last.”

The Battle of Mind and Blade

Seraphis did not run.

She charged.

Her daggers flashed, slicing through the tendrils of darkness.

Mircea moved like smoke, vanishing and reappearing, her laughter echoing in the void.

A dagger flew—

Mircea twisted, avoiding it with unnatural grace.

A second dagger—

This ti, Mircea caught it midair, spinning it in her fingers.

“Beautiful craftsmanship,” she mused, before hurling it back.

Seraphis barely dodged as the blade whistled past her ear, embedding itself into the stone behind her.

Then—

Pain.

A shadow wrapped around her ankle, yanking her into the air.

She slamd into the ground, her vision exploding in white.

Mircea lood over her, her violet eyes glowing.

“Pathetic.”

She raised a hand—

And the shadows tightened around Seraphis’ throat.

The world blurred.

Darkness crept into the edges of her vision.

But—

Seraphis had one last trick.

With the last ounce of strength, she threw her remaining dagger.

Mircea dodged—

But it was a feint.

Seraphis vanished—

And reappeared behind her.

A flash of silver—

A single, clean stroke—

And Mircea’s head tumbled from her shoulders.

The Forbidden Chamber

The silence was deafening.

Seraphis stood over the fallen body, her breathing ragged.

Blood dripped from her wounds, but she did not falter.

Instead, she turned.

She had felt it.

A presence.

Sothing beneath the estate.

She moved, stepping over Mircea’s corpse, descending the spiral staircase hidden behind a bookshelf.

The air grew thicker.

Older.

And then—

She reached the door.

It pulsed with ancient energy.

She pressed her palm against it—

And it opened.

Inside—

Rows upon rows of forbidden tos lined the walls.

Books bound in human skin. Scrolls etched in languages long dead.

She stepped forward, her fingers brushing over the covers.

Magic long lost to ti.

She took them all.

Burning the Past

As she erged from the estate, the first rays of dawn broke over the valley.

She turned, gazing at the mansion that had housed monsters for generations.

Then—

She set it ablaze.

Flas devoured the stone and wood, licking at the sky.

House Mircea Valefor was no more.

And Seraphis walked away, the forbidden knowledge secured in her grasp.

One step closer to unraveling the Sleeper Experint.

One step closer to ending it all.