"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin" Chapter 89: Shadows of the Past

Seraphis hadn’t planned on sleeping. She never did. Years of training, of discipline, had burned that weakness out of her. Sleep was a luxury for those who could afford it, and she had never been one of them.

Yet, as the dungeon’s eerie silence wrapped around her, exhaustion crept in. Her body betrayed her, muscles aching, mind growing sluggish. She leaned back against the cold stone wall, just for a mont.

And then—darkness.

A Familiar Room

She stood in a dimly lit room, the scent of gunpowder thick in the air. Concrete walls, a tal table, the faint hum of an old ventilation system overhead.

Her past life. The assassin’s den.

Seraphis—no, the woman she had been before—stood in front of a mirror. Cold gray eyes stared back at her. Her hair was tied back, a single knife strapped to her wrist, her fingers calloused from years of training.

The reflection blurred, shifting between the face of her old self and the one she now wore.

A voice echoed from behind her.

“You’re slowing down.”

The ntor’s Voice

She turned, heart pounding despite herself.

A man sat in the corner of the room, legs crossed, a knife spinning between his fingers. His presence was overwhelming, a predator lounging before the kill.

Seraphis knew him well. Her ntor. Her handler. The man who had shaped her into a living weapon.

“I never slow down,” she said, but the words felt hollow.

The man smirked, standing up in one fluid motion. “Then why are you here?”

Seraphis felt sothing cold settle in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but the room was already fading, lting into sothing else.

The First Kill

She was twelve again, standing in an alleyway, blade trembling in her grip. The target was in front of her—an older man, terrified, his hands raised in surrender.

She rembered this. Her first kill.

“Do it,” a voice urged. The sa ntor’s voice.

She could feel the weight of the knife in her hands, the sweat on her palms. The man in front of her had begged, pleaded. A thief, a traitor, nothing more. But still… a human.

A second passed. Then another.

She had hesitated.

Her ntor’s shadow lood behind her. “Finish it, or you’re finished.”

The knife sank into flesh.

The dream twisted. Blood spilled. And suddenly, she was falling—

The Endless Descent

Seraphis plumted through darkness, the world unraveling around her. Shadows whispered, voices called, ghosts of the past clawed at her.

Faces. Nas. Kills.

She had forgotten them all. Forced herself to forget.

Yet here, in this dream, they all returned. Every single life she had taken.

They surrounded her, eyes glowing in the void, whispering accusations. Monster. Murderer. Tool.

She clenched her fists. “I did what I had to.”

A cold laugh echoed through the abyss.

“Did you?”

A Hall of Mirrors

The fall ended abruptly.

She stood in a vast hall of mirrors.

Each one showed a different version of herself. The child with the trembling knife. The ruthless assassin drenched in blood. The reincarnated girl with white hair and white eyes.

They stared at her, their gazes heavy with judgnt.

Seraphis took a slow breath. “This is just a dream.”

“Is it?”

One of the reflections stepped forward.

She recognized it instantly—it was her ntor. But instead of his usual smirk, his face was blank, his eyes endless voids.

“You think you escaped,” he said. “You think a new life erases what you were?”

Seraphis tensed. “I moved forward.”

The figure stepped closer. “And yet, here you are, dreaming of the past. Tell , assassin—can you ever truly change?”

She swung her knife.

The mirror shattered.

The Final Lesson

She was back in the training hall. The one where she had spent years honing her craft.

Her ntor stood across from her, but this ti, he wasn’t watching. He was fighting. A blade in each hand, moving with deadly precision.

Seraphis dove forward, dodging a strike and countering with her own. The clash of steel rang out like thunder.

She knew this fight.

The final test. The last ti she had faced her ntor before earning her rank as a master assassin.

He had been faster. Stronger. But she had been smarter.

Seraphis twisted, using his montum against him, slashing across his ribs. He staggered, just as he had before.

But this ti—

He smiled.

Awakening

The dream shattered.

Seraphis gasped, sitting up violently.

The campfire was still flickering. Elowen and Sylvaine slept soundly. The dungeon’s silence pressed in around her, but the ghosts of her past still lingered in her mind.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her heartbeat still rapid.