"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin" Chapter 76: The Flight of the White Ravens

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the dense forest as Seraphis and her daughters stood on the outskirts of the city. The ti had co for them to shed their human forms.

“Let’s clear the way,” Seraphis murmured. A soft shimr of magic surrounded her body as she transford, her fra shifting into that of a massive white raven. Her feathers glead like fresh snow beneath the fading sunlight, her eyes sharp and piercing.

Elowen and Sylvaine followed suit, their bodies dissolving into black feathers before taking their true raven forms. However, unlike before, sothing was different.

Two distinct green feathers now adorned each of them—Elowen’s a bright, vivid green, while Sylvaine’s was deep and rich like the forest canopy. The change signified their bond to the White Raven—they were no longer ordinary ravens but sothing greater.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Seraphis ascended into the sky, her daughters following close behind.

The Hunt Begins

The wind rushed past them as they soared through the evening sky. Below, the landscape stretched endlessly—rolling hills, dense trees, and winding rivers. But their destination was clear: the bandit camp.

Seraphis led the way, her keen eyesight scanning the forest ahead. Soon, a flickering glow appeared in the distance—a campfire. The bandits were exactly where the guild's intel had predicted.

She tilted her head toward her daughters. "There," she said, her voice carrying through the wind. "I’ll be watching from above. You two—have your fun."

Elowen and Sylvaine let out sharp cries, their beady raven eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Seraphis then extended her claw, dropping two small enchanted pouches.

"Slip these into the leader’s pockets before you kill him," she instructed. "They’ll serve as proof of the kill."

The twins cawed in response, then swooped downward.

The Bandit Camp

The bandits sat around their fire, laughing, drinking, and sharpening their weapons. The stench of sweat, blood, and cheap ale filled the air. There were six of them—ard, but careless. They had no idea death was already upon them.

Elowen and Sylvaine perched in the trees above, watching. The elent of surprise was theirs.

The leader, a burly man with a scarred face, sat on a log, tossing his dagger between his hands.

"We’ll hit another rchant wagon tomorrow," he grunted. "Easy money."

"Maybe we should move camp soon," one of the others muttered. "I heard the Assassin’s Guild is onto us."

The leader scoffed. "Please. If those fools send anyone, we’ll gut them like the rest."

Elowen and Sylvaine exchanged glances. It was ti.

The Assassins Strike

In a blur of movent, the twins shifted back into their humanoid forms, dropping from the trees. Their green-bladed twin swords glead under the firelight as they descended like reapers.

Before the bandits could react, Sylvaine landed behind one, driving her blade through his back. The steel pierced his heart instantly—he was dead before he hit the ground.

Elowen, with fluid grace, twirled mid-air and slashed at another’s throat. Blood sprayed as he collapsed, gurgling.

The camp exploded into chaos.

"We’re under attack!" one of the bandits shouted, scrambling for his weapon.

But the twins were already moving. Sylvaine flipped over the fire, landing in front of another bandit. With a flick of her wrist, she reversed her grip on her sword and stabbed him in the chest, twisting the blade before pulling it free.

Elowen, anwhile, ducked under a wild swing from an axe-wielding bandit. She parried with one sword and drove the other into his gut.

Now, only two remained—the leader and his last man.

The final grunt turned to flee, but Sylvaine was faster. She lunged forward, severing his leg at the knee. He collapsed, screaming, before she silenced him with a swift slice to the throat.

Only the leader remained. He stumbled backward, eyes wide in terror.

"W-wait! We can talk about this—"

Elowen and Sylvaine moved as one.

Sylvaine darted forward, grabbing him by the collar while Elowen slipped the enchanted pouch into his pocket.

Then, in a single fluid motion, Sylvaine drove her blade into his heart. His body jerked before going limp, slumping to the ground.

The fight was over.

Returning to the City

Elowen wiped her blade clean while Sylvaine crouched beside the bandit leader, retrieving the enchanted pouch.

Above them, Seraphis descended, shifting back into her human form as she landed softly.

"Well done," she said. "No wasted movents. No unnecessary noise. That’s how assassins should fight."

The twins smiled under their masks.

"Now," Seraphis continued, flicking a bloodstain off her glove, "let’s go collect your reward."

The Guild’s Recognition

The Assassin’s Guild was just as lively as before when the three of them walked through the doors. But this ti, the atmosphere shifted.

Whispers rippled through the room.

"They’re back already?"

"That was fast… Did they even break a sweat?"

Seraphis ignored the chatter as she led her daughters to the reception desk.

The receptionist, a young woman with short brown hair, barely glanced up before saying, "Back so soon? That was quick."

Seraphis smirked and dropped the bandit leader’s severed head onto the counter.

A heavy silence fell over the guild.

The receptionist blinked before sighing. "Really? Did you have to bring the head?"

"Proof is proof," Seraphis said.

The receptionist shook her head, but after a mont, she stamped the mission papers. Then, she turned to Elowen and Sylvaine, smiling.

"Congratulations, you two. You’re now officially assassins—just like your mother."

The twins exchanged glances before bowing slightly. "Thank you," they said in unison.

Seraphis watched them, pride swelling in her chest. Her daughters had taken their first step into the world of assassins.

And this was only the beginning.