"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin" Chapter 91: The Bloodstained Throne – Battle Against the Lee

The chamber was massive, far larger than any they had encountered before. Dark crimson light pulsed from the walls, veins of deep red energy slithering like living things. The air was thick with decay—the scent of rotting flesh, of sothing ancient and vile.

At the center of the room sat a throne of bones, sinew, and pulsing flesh.

And upon it… the Leech King.

It was a monstrous being, humanoid in shape but grotesque in form. Its pale, bloated body was covered in a slick, translucent skin, revealing black veins pulsating underneath. Its jaw was elongated, filled with multiple rows of needle-like teeth, and its six arms each ended in razor-sharp claws.

But the worst part…

Its eyes.

There were no pupils—just hollow, endless pits that seed to pull at the soul, as if staring too long would drain the life from the body.

The mont they entered, the throne pulsed—alive.

The Leech King slowly rose, its ghastly mouth splitting into a grotesque smile.

“More offerings…” it hissed, its voice a chorus of whispers, layered with malice.

Then—it vanished.

A Battle Against an Immortal Monster

Seraphis had no ti to react—an unseen force slamd into her from behind. She crashed into the cold stone floor, rolling just in ti as jagged claws tore through the space where her head had been.

Too fast!

Elowen twisted her rapier, summoning a wave of wind magic, but the Leech King darted through it, untouched.

Sylvaine threw a barrage of enchanted daggers, but before they could strike—the Leech King split apart.

Four copies of itself erged from its body, each one shifting and twisting, their forms half-solid, half-mist.

“You cannot kill what does not die…”

Seraphis’ heart pounded. This wasn’t a normal fight.

They had faced monsters, assassins, mages—but this was different.

This thing was unnatural.

Seraphis vs. The First Clone – The Life Drinker

Seraphis dashed toward one of the clones, daggers flashing. She aid for the throat—

It laughed.

Its body twisted like liquid, bending away from her strike.

Then—it lunged.

Before she could react, its elongated fingers pierced into her side.

Pain exploded through her ribs.

Her energy was draining.

Seraphis gritted her teeth, kicking off the creature’s chest, flipping backward. She barely landed before it ca at her again.

She needed to end it. Fast.

Summoning her tal playing cards, she willed them forward, sending a barrage of razor-sharp edges into the clone’s form.

Each card carved into its shifting flesh, severing tendons and muscle—until it collapsed into a pool of dark ichor.

But her energy…

She was already feeling weaker.

Elowen vs. The Second Clone – The Screar

Elowen faced her own nightmare.

A creature with no mouth—yet it scread.

The sound was unbearable.

Her vision blurred, her ears rang with a maddening frequency—the very air seed to tremble.

She took a step forward—her knees buckled.

“No.”

With sheer force of will, she thrust her rapier into the ground, channeling wind magic around her.

The force pushed back the sound for a mont—just enough ti to move.

The clone lunged, its clawed arms extending unnaturally, aiming for her throat.

Elowen spun, blade glowing, and with one swift motion—she sliced straight through its core.

It screeched one final ti, before bursting into mist.

Her hands were shaking. The echoes of the scream lingered in her mind.

Sylvaine vs. The Third Clone – The Puppet Master

Sylvaine felt a hand wrap around her ankle.

Then—her own dagger turned against her.

Her body moved against her will, her hand tightening around the weapon, forcing her to strike at her own throat.

Mind control.

Her heart pounded. She fought against it, her body trembling as the dagger pressed against her skin.

“No!”

She channeled every ounce of willpower, breaking free just as the clone lunged forward.

It grinned. Mocking her.

Sylvaine grinned back.

Then—she vanished.

A shadow step.

She reappeared behind the clone—her daggers slamming into its back.

The creature convulsed, writhing as black flas consud it.

It shrieked—then crumbled into dust.

The Leech King’s True Form

The mont the last clone fell—the throne exploded.

From the wreckage, the true form of the Leech King erged.

It was twice its original size, its skin now dark and glistening with blackened blood.

The room trembled.

It was done playing.

“I tire of this.”

Seraphis gritted her teeth. “Sa.”

The Leech King opened its maw—

And the world turned red.

The Final Clash

A torrent of blood erupted from the Leech King’s mouth, rushing toward them like a living tidal wave.

Seraphis vaulted over the attack, landing just in ti to see Elowen and Sylvaine slicing through the crimson flood.

They had one chance.

Seraphis summoned all her remaining cards, forming them into a single, massive blade.

Elowen channeled wind magic, sending a cyclone to lift Seraphis high into the air.

Sylvaine flashed forward, her daggers coated in black fire, slicing at the Leech King’s limbs to weaken it.

And then—

Seraphis dropped from above.

The massive tal blade plunged straight into the Leech King’s skull.

It howled—shrieking, writhing, flailing—

Until finally—

Silence.

The monster collapsed.

The dungeon trembled.

It was over.

The Aftermath

Seraphis ripped her blade free, breathing heavily.

They did it.

Elowen wiped the blood from her rapier. “That was… disgusting.”

Sylvaine kicked the corpse. “You’re telling .”

A pulse of energy filled the room.

In the remains of the throne—treasures glead.

Magic crystals. Tos. Scrolls. Forbidden artifacts.

Seraphis grinned.

They would be taking all of it.