"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin"-Chapter 18: The Rogue Mage Hunt
The dim candlelight flickered against the aged stone walls of the
Guildmaster’s office
as I stood before his desk, arms crossed. The air smelled of parchment, old ink, and faint traces of blood—a mix of history and violence that clung to the Assassin’s Guild like a second skin.
The Guildmaster leaned back in his chair, his amber eyes watching me with an expression that was
far too amused
for my liking.
“So,” I said, narrowing my gaze. “You’re telling me the
king himself
handed this job to you?”
He smirked. “That’s what I said.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Why would the
King of Eldoria
personally request that an
assassin’s guild
deal with a
rogue mage
? That sounds like something his
knights
should handle.”
The Guildmaster exhaled, tapping his fingers against the desk. “They’re busy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “With what?”
He chuckled, leaning forward. “Do you
really
think the kingdom only has one enemy? The knights are handling… other matters.” His gaze sharpened. “And this is no
ordinary rogue mage.
”
I tilted my head slightly, curiosity sparking. “How bad are we talking?”
His smirk vanished. “He wiped out an entire
village.
Men, women, children—slaughtered without mercy.
Burned the land to ash.
”
A slow silence settled between us.
I tapped my fingers against my arm. “Any idea why he did it?”
The Guildmaster exhaled, rubbing his temple. “No one knows. Some say he was a
war mage
who went insane. Others claim he found something he
wasn’t supposed to
and decided to erase all witnesses. What matters is that he’s out there, still alive, and the King wants his
head on a pike.
” He pushed a parchment toward me. “That’s where you come in.”
I glanced at the paper, scanning the details. Name:
Azrael Thorn.
Location:
Unknown, last seen near the Ruined Temple of Vel’Drath in the eastern mountains.
“Bring back his head,” the Guildmaster said simply.
I folded the parchment and slid it into my belt. “I’ll handle it.”
Then, just as I turned to leave—
“You know,” he mused, tapping his chin. “I figured I should send my
best
for this one.”
I frowned. “That’s the
only
reason you gave this to me?”
He smirked. “Well, that and I thought of you.”
I gave him a deadpan stare. “I don’t like you like that.”
The
Guildmaster burst out laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
For a solid five seconds, I just watched as he clutched the desk, gasping for breath.
“Gods—Seraphis—you didn’t—” He wheezed. “I didn’t take you for a comedian.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re wasting my time.”
He wiped his eyes, still grinning. “Go on, then. Let’s see if you come back with
another trophy for the guild.
”
Tracking the Rogue Mage
I left the guild that evening, donning my newly crafted
White Raven attire
. The fabric moved with me, silent as the wind, the white raven insignia glinting faintly in the moonlight.
Tracking a mage wasn’t the same as tracking an ordinary target.
Mages left traces.
I started at the
last known village
—or what was left of it.
The ground was scorched
black
, the buildings nothing more than
charred skeletons
of wood and stone. Ash clung to the air, the scent of burnt flesh still faintly lingering.
I crouched down, running my fingers through the
earth.
There were no
survivors.
Not a single soul.
But there were
signs of movement.
Footsteps.
Deep imprints.
Someone had walked through here recently.
I followed the tracks into the
woods,
moving swiftly, my senses sharp. The deeper I went, the more the
air shifted.
It was
thicker. Heavier.
Magic.
I could
feel it
—like a faint vibration against my skin.
Residual energy.
The
rogue mage was close.
I climbed onto the
higher ground,
perching myself on a thick tree branch. From here, I could see the faint glow of
blue firelight
flickering in the distance.
Bingo.
The
Ruined Temple of Vel’Drath.
I narrowed my eyes, pulling out one of my
metal playing cards.
With a flick of my wrist, I sent it
up into the air
, closing my eyes and focusing.
The moment my mind connected to it, I could
see
through its perspective.
It soared through the night sky, drifting above the temple ruins. The mage was there, seated before a
blue-flamed brazier,
his robes tattered, his face hidden beneath a
hood.
Azrael Thorn.
I
counted four
other figures nearby—mercenaries, likely hired for protection.
Too bad they wouldn’t live long.
I flicked my wrist, and the card
dove.
Slice.
A mercenary
dropped,
his throat slit before he even knew what hit him.
The others reacted, drawing weapons—
too late.
Another card.
Another kill.
Within seconds, the mercenaries were
dead.
The
mage stood slowly.
“You’re an assassin.” His voice was smooth, eerily calm.
I leaped down from the tree, landing in a crouch.
Silent. Deadly.
His piercing
golden eyes
met mine. “And here I thought they’d send the knights.”
“They were busy,” I said simply, straightening. “So they sent me instead.”
He chuckled. “How considerate of them.”
Then, without warning—
he attacked.
A
wave of blue fire
erupted from his hands,
tearing toward me.
I moved
instantly.
Ducking. Rolling. The heat
seared the air
where I had just been.
He moved fast. But I was
faster.
I sent
three cards flying.
Two he
blocked
with a sudden barrier of flame. The third
nicked his cheek.
His eyes flickered with amusement. “Not bad.”
I wasn’t here to
impress him.
I flicked my hand again—this time, the cards
multiplied.
Ten. Twenty. Fifty.
His smirk faded.
They rained down like a storm.
He raised his hands to conjure another flame, but my
fastest card
had already
sliced through his fingers.
He
screamed.
I didn’t stop.
I
closed the distance
, flipping over his next attack, landing behind him—
blade to his throat.
“You should’ve stayed hidden,” I murmured.
With one swift motion, I
sliced.
Blood
spilled
, his body crumbling into the dirt.
I crouched down, gripping his
hair.
With one precise motion, I
severed his head
from his shoulders.
The blue flames around us
flickered… then died.
I stood, wiping the blood from my blade.
Job complete.
Back to the Guild
When I walked into the Guildhall with
Azrael’s head
in hand, the room
went silent.
The Guildmaster, seated at his usual spot, let out a slow whistle.
“Well,” he mused. “That was fast.”
I tossed the head onto his desk.
He glanced at it, then back at me. “Was he as dangerous as they said?”
I met his gaze. “Not to me.”
The Guildmaster chuckled. “I should’ve
bet money
on you finishing that fast.”
I smirked. “Next time, put your gold where your mouth is.”
He shook his head, still grinning. “Welcome back,
White Raven.
”
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