** Chapter 54 : The Gathering Storm**
---
**Huey's Chamber**
The room was cloaked in shadows, the faint glow of candlelight flickering against the stone walls. Huey sat in the center, his posture relaxed but his expression sharp, his eyes gleaming with a calculating intensity. His fingers were pressed together in a steeple, the tips brushing against his chin as he focused. A faint, cross-shaped marking illuminated his forehead for a brief moment, its light casting eerie patterns across the room. His hands moved fluidly, forming a sacred cross symbol before the glow dissipated, leaving only the faint hum of energy in its wake.
A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "So this is what it feels like?" he muttered, his voice low and tinged with amusement. The power siphoned from Shakuku's coffin coursed through him, a raw, electrifying force that made his veins hum with energy. He flexed his fingers, savoring the sensation. "Not bad… not bad at all."
The scene shifted abruptly. Huey reappeared in a different room, this one more austere, with high ceilings and minimal furnishings. Draven sat on a stone bench, his posture rigid, his new white arm resting over his knee. The arm gleamed faintly under the light, its unnatural hue contrasting sharply with the rest of his body. His expression was cold, unreadable, but there was a subtle tension in the way he held himself.
Huey studied him for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing with amusement. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with an underlying edge.
Draven didn't look up. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
Huey chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed in the quiet room. He took a seat opposite Draven, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hands clasped together, and his smirk deepened. "I'm heading to Seoul soon," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "When I return, you'll get your go-ahead to face your brother."
Draven's eyes flickered, a spark of intensity breaking through his icy demeanor. "Good," he said simply.
But Huey wasn't finished. His expression grew darker, his golden eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Your eyes…" he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "They're connected to the underworld itself. To Hell."
Draven's expression remained impassive, but there was a faint tightening around his eyes, a subtle sign that Huey's words had struck a nerve.
Huey leaned back, his smirk returning. "Do you know why I've refined you to this point? Why I've nurtured your power?" He raised two fingers, counting off his reasons. "One, to help you achieve your goal. And two…" He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "To resurrect Lord Arcade."
Draven's brows furrowed slightly, the first real crack in his stoic facade.
"Arcade foresaw this," Huey continued, his voice steady and unwavering. "He knew you would inherit those eyes, and he planned for this day. Through you, we will bring him back."
Draven took a slow, measured breath, his fingers clenching into fists. His response was as cold as ever. "As long as I kill Shiki, I don't care."
Huey's grin widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Perfect. Rest while you can—this world is about to change." With that, he rose to his feet and vanished into the shadows, his presence dissolving like mist.
---
**Lannister House**
Mujin stepped through the grand doors of the Lannister estate, the weight of the recent meeting still pressing on his mind. The halls were quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of his cloak as he moved. He made his way to the training grounds, where the clash of steel and the grunts of exertion echoed through the air.
Sakamoto and Madagascar were in the middle of a sparring session, their movements a blur of speed and precision. Sakamoto's axe gleamed under the sunlight as he swung it with practiced ease, while Madagascar countered with a series of swift, calculated strikes. Both were drenched in sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, but there was a sense of satisfaction in their expressions.
Mujin watched for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. When the spar ended, he called out, "Sakamoto."
Sakamoto turned, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He approached, his axe resting casually over his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.
Mujin studied him for a moment, his gaze piercing. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," Sakamoto replied, his voice steady.
Mujin's eyes narrowed. "That's not what I meant."
Sakamoto exhaled, catching on. "It's been quiet," he admitted. "It doesn't drive me crazy with all the things it says… for now."
Mujin nodded, his expression unreadable. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, intricately inscribed seal. "Hold on to this," he said, handing it to Sakamoto. "Always."
Sakamoto took the seal, turning it over in his hands. The markings were unfamiliar, but there was a faint hum of energy emanating from it. He tucked it into his robes without question. "Understood."
Mujin gave him a final, assessing glance before turning to leave. "Stay sharp," he said over his shoulder. "Things are about to get complicated."
---
**The Escort Mission – Onboard the Train to Spain**
The train sped through the night, its rhythmic motion a soothing backdrop to the quiet hum of conversation. The compartment was luxurious, with plush seats and a table laden with food—grilled fish, seasoned meats, and steaming noodles. The Light House and Dragon House members sat around the table, their eyes occasionally flicking to their client, Mr. Saneji, who had already fallen asleep, his light snoring adding to the ambiance.
Mori leaned back in his seat, a satisfied grin on his face as he picked at a plate of noodles. "This job is too easy," he muttered between bites. "I was expecting something more… exciting."
Portgas, seated across from him, nodded in agreement. He was still chewing a piece of grilled fish, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sheathed blade. "Yeah, same here. Feels like a vacation."
Chiro, the designated leader of the mission, sat at the head of the table, her teacup in hand. She sipped slowly, her sharp eyes scanning the room. "Don't get too comfortable," she said, her voice calm but firm. "We're not out of the woods yet."
As if on cue, a heavy **THUD** shook the train, the sound reverberating through the compartment. The plates and glasses on the table rattled, and the lights flickered momentarily.
Mori sat up straight, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "What was that?"
Another **THUD**, louder this time, followed by the sound of metal groaning under pressure. The ceiling above them rattled as something—or someone—landed on top of the moving train.
Portgas's hand instinctively went to his blade, his body tensing. "We've got company," he said, his voice low and serious.
Chiro placed her teacup down with deliberate calm, her eyes narrowing as she rose to her feet. "Stay alert," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This just got a lot more interesting."
The air in the compartment grew thick with tension, the once-relaxed atmosphere replaced by a sense of impending danger. Outside, the night seemed darker, the rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels now accompanied by the faint sound of footsteps above.
Something—or someone—had boarded the train.
And they weren't friendly.
---