"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin" Chapter 362: The Pirate’s Name

The winds howled against the cliffs of Raven’s Perch, the sea below restless as waves crashed against jagged rocks. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, a storm brewing in the distance, its presence a quiet promise of the chaos to co.

Seraphis stood at the edge of the balcony, her white hair whipping in the wind. The scent of salt and rain filled the air, mingling with the ever-present scent of iron that clung to her. She narrowed her ghostly white eyes, gazing into the storm as if she could see through it—see the battles ahead, the blood that would soon stain the waters.

Footsteps approached from behind, but Seraphis didn’t turn. Lysara’s voice cut through the wind like a blade.

“Seraphis.”

She remained silent.

“Do you know the na Captain Cutlass?”

Seraphis’s lips curled into a smirk. Now that was a na she hadn’t expected to hear. Slowly, she turned to face Lysara, who leaned against the stone archway, arms crossed, golden eyes sharp with amusent.

“Yes,” Seraphis said at last. “I’ve heard of him.”

Lysara tilted her head. “He’s quite famous. A pirate lord, a master duelist, and a tactician whose na strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies.”

Seraphis let out a soft laugh. “Famous?” She stepped forward, her boots clicking against the stone floor. “Perhaps he’ll make a nice wall decoration.”

Lysara smirked. “You always did have a taste for trophies.”

Seraphis glanced back at the storm, her amusent lingering. “Tell more about him.”

Lysara pushed away from the wall and walked closer. “Captain Cutlass isn’t just any pirate.” She spoke with the certainty of soone who had gathered every scrap of information, every whisper and rumor. “He commands the Bloody Maiden, a ship feared across the seas. They say it’s never lost a battle.”

Seraphis raised an eyebrow. “Never lost?”

“Not once. He doesn’t fight fair—he fights to win.” Lysara’s tone was edged with sothing between admiration and caution. “He’s outmaneuvered the navy, crushed rival crews, and built an empire from the bones of his enemies. His crew isn’t just a pack of lawless pirates. They’re loyal, experienced, and deadly.”

Seraphis absorbed the information. A pirate with a mind for battle, a ship that had never been sunk, and a crew that fought like a legion.

Interesting.

“And now?” she asked. “What’s his interest in ?”

Lysara’s eyes glead. “Word has reached his ears. He knows there’s a new player in the waters—one who doesn’t play by the rules.”

Seraphis chuckled. “So, he’s watching .”

Lysara nodded. “For now. But pirates don’t watch for long. They strike.”

Seraphis turned away, her white cloak billowing behind her as she strode toward the fortress doors. She pushed them open without hesitation, stepping inside where the dim torchlight cast long shadows along the stone walls.

She walked past rows of weapons lining the armory, past halls filled with the murmurs of n sharpening their blades, securing their gear. There was no council. No need for drawn-out discussions.

She didn’t believe in waiting.

She stopped in the middle of the great hall, where her soldiers and rcenaries instinctively fell silent at her presence. Their eyes locked onto her, awaiting her command.

Seraphis let the silence stretch. Then, in a voice that cut through the air like a blade, she spoke:

“Prepare everything.”

Her words sent a ripple of movent through the hall. n moved at once—no hesitation, no questions. Boots pounded against the stone floor as weapons were secured, armor fastened, and supplies gathered.

Seraphis walked forward, weaving through the preparations with calm precision. She checked blades, adjusted armor straps, inspected the weight of the weapons in her n’s hands. She was no queen commanding from afar. She was a warrior, and warriors ensured everything was ready with their own eyes.

She felt the coming battle in her bones.

Her hands moved on instinct, adjusting the leather straps on her daggers, brushing her fingers over the steel edges of her hidden blades. Her playing cards—the deadliest of her weapons—rested at her side, humming with latent power, ready to be unleashed.

As she stepped out into the storm once more, the thunder growled overhead.

Lysara joined her, watching the n move with ruthless efficiency.

“You’re not going to wait for him to make the first move, are you?” she asked knowingly.

Seraphis’s white eyes glead like a predator’s.

“No.” She turned, her gaze fixed on the stormy horizon. “We move first.”

The battle had already begun.