The Lord of the Seas - An Isekai Progression Fantasy [ Currently on Volume 2 ]

"How do you feel about tonight's fight, Jerry? This is the fight all the fans have been waiting for year round!"

"I'm feeling great Tom, tonight, we are going to witness history. A lot of people are rooting for the youngest rookie this sport has ever seen, a prodigy and a legend in the making. Marcus Callahan has gone undefeated in his first 6 fights and all of them have never gone past the first round. He is a talent that the sport has never seen and if things go the way I think it will, he will be the youngest champion in history."

"I will admit the kid's a monster. But I think you're forgetting something, Jerry."

"And what's that?"

"He's up against Julien Fronterra. He's up against the greatest of all time."

Julien could hear the crowd roaring, he could hear them chanting his name which was admittedly surprising.

He definitely had his supporters but right now he was in enemy territory. He did not have the home court advantage for this fight.

It did not help that Julien was also quite the controversial figure in the professional fighting scene but he would say he was just doing what he could to sell the fight.

Any other fighter would have folded under the pressure but Julien was different.

He always had been.

There were many who hated him but there was none who could deny that Julien was one of those very few people who excelled under pressure. Now, he was moments away from perhaps the greatest fight of his life.

If Julien won this fight, he would become the very first fighter to defend two titles simultaneously. He would be the undefeated double champ in the lightweight and welterweight divisions. There would not be a single critic in their right mind who could not deny his greatness.

If Julien retired a year ago, he would have already cemented his name as one of the best to ever step in the octagon; but that wasn't enough for him.

He did not just want to be "one of". He wanted to be the only one in that conversation.

When they discussed years later on ESPN who was the greatest to ever do it, his name was the one that would come up first. The name that stood above all else. The only one that would be brought up as the best fighter of all time.

Julien Fronterra had given his life to the sport and he was going to ensure that he was the one who they'd be talking about years after he stepped out of the ring and hung up his gloves for good.

He was 32 years of age now. Yet he felt as healthy as he ever had before in his career.

This was a fight that he had prepared for.

Everything was in order.

His recovery, his diet and his training. All of it had been executed to a level of perfection Julien himself had not known possible.

The champion felt light on his feet, bouncing up and down as he stepped out into the open arena. It was deafening yet he simply drowned out all the noise. His gloves were taped up. He had his mouthguard in.

Finally, he stepped into the ring.

This was where he thrived, this is where he went to work. Everything around him was just a distraction and they were distractions that he would not allow to steal his attention, the only thought in his mind was how fun it was going to be to smash this boy's face in.

The fighter who now stood on the opposite of side of the octagon was young, younger than Julien was when he won his first professional fight.

Marcus Callahan was the type of fighter that had the potential to become a generational great, the type that had everything to prove to the world tonight; to prove to the doubters who did not believe he could make it.

What made Marcus dangerous was that the boy was young and right now he had nothing to lose.

For Julien? Everything was on the line tonight.

Finally, the bell rung and all hell broke loose.

Intuitively, both fighters knew this was going to be a slugfest. Even with his opponent's Olympic wrestling background, Julien was a takedown artist; perhaps one of the most talented grapplers in all of mixed martial art history. Going to the ground with Julien Fronterra would not be wise for Marcus Callahan. The most effective way to win this was to strike it out and the young challenger was confident he would not lose in that aspect of the fight.

Marcus Callahan's confidence, however, was misplaced.

Julien Fronterra fought like a man possessed, unlike anything he had shown in his career before.

The level of striking Julien brought to the table was levels beyond what Marcus had predicted the champion was capable of dishing out and the young challenger was paying a heavy price for that underestimation.

For the first time in his fighting career, Marcus Callahan experienced what it was like to be weak. His entire life, he had been stronger than the rest of his peers. There was no one who could match his overwhelming intensity when it came to punching it out.

Now, it was like none of Marcus' strikes would land yet all of Julien's did.

The young challenger could feel each blow through his guard, his eyes trying and failing to read the champ.

There was no end to Julien's combinations, no tells, nothing Marcus could use to predict what he was going to do next.

Then Julien threw a left hook, followed by another and it looks like Julien is pulling back to unleash a third.

This was it, Marcus thought to himself, this was where he could take back control of the fight. All he needed to do was to land a hit before Julien did.

There it was! The third hook!

Julien's fist flies past and narrowly misses Marcus. None of it matters if Marcus could end the fight right here right now! If Marcus could just knock the guy out, he will be one of the youngest world champions in the history of the sport.

Marcus moved to throw a counter, one that will knock Julien right on the temple and send the champ sprawling onto the mat.

Unfortunately the young challenger had fallen for the bait the champion had put out for him, hook line and sinker.

Julien rode the momentum of his right hook, his body twisting around in one full circle with frightening speeds.

A split second later and Julien lands a spinning back elbow to the front of Callahan's face. The pain was nothing like the rising star had felt before and Marcus crumpled to the ground. Marcus could barely keep conscious, let alone get back up.

The fight was over. Julien was going to take apart the young fighter and give the rookie his first bitter loss. But nothing happened.

Marcus could feel the blood dripping down his face, a nasty cut had opened up above his eyebrow. His head was ringing but through the red veil; he could make out what had just happened.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Julien Fronterra stood over him, grinning from ear to ear. He was gesturing with his hand for Marcus to get back up, mocking and belittling him.

This was nothing but a game to Fronterra. This was nothing more than a spectacle for the crowd. The reason why there were many who hated him as much as there were people who adored him was because Julien Fronterra was and always would be an entertainer.

The bell rung again and the first round came to an end with the crowd going absolutely nuts. Beyond any fighting ability, what Julien Fronterra excelled in was psychological warfare. If it was one thing Julien loved, he loved putting on a show. After such a dominant first round performance, it was pretty clear to the ones who were watching that the fight had already been won.

Everything seemed to be going well.

But Julien could feel it.

Something was off.

All had gone according to plan but there was...a deep, dull ache in his chest.

But Marcus had not landed any blows on him, at least not any that could do real damage. Julien was worried because he hadn't felt anything like this before and he had definitely taken some heavy hits throughout his career.

Could his age finally be catching up to him? No, it couldn't be.

Julien ignored it, telling himself there was nothing at all to worry about. He would not allow this feeling to ruin his historic moment, for today was the day he cemented his legacy in the history of professional mixed martial arts.

The next round was not any different from the first.

The challenger had been shaken to his core, humiliated and unable to think straight. Marcus was both angry and ashamed that he was being disrespected like this.

At this point, the crowd was going wild as they watched the greatest fighter they would ever see in their lifetime play with his food.

Only the sharpest of eyes would have realized that as the fight progressed, the champ was slowing down. His breath was getting more ragged and he seemed to be sweating profusely, more so than usual.

Suddenly, there was a sharp stab in Julien's chest and he stumbled forward. It seemed like exhaustion was beginning to creep in on Julien and Marcus could see it. That was what the crowd thought too but Julien knew now that something horrible was happening to him and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

His vision blurred, he could feel the shortness of his breath; his limbs felt sluggish.

The young challenger did not hesitate to take advantage of the sudden chink he saw in the champ's armor. Marcus swung wildly, desperate because he knew this was his only chance to win this fight and his hit landed perfectly. Julien's head flew back and he stumbled, somehow able to remain standing. But Julien was hurt. Every instinct was screaming at Julien to fall but the champ delivered a fierce front kick to drive his opponent back, sparing him from defeat but only for a few seconds.

Julien realized in that moment that his heart was failing him.

Marcus stopped and Julien thinks that the young rookie was trying to treat him the same way as he had done to him in the first round, trying to humiliate him as Julien had humiliated Marcus. But the look on Marcus' face was one of concern, not one of vengeance.

That was when Julien realized that he was already on his knees, his body refusing to listen to his cries for it to continue fighting.

The ground rushed up to meet him as Julien crumpled to the floor of the octagon. The referee jumped in, stopping Marcus from jumping in and finishing Julien off. One look at the champ is all the ref needed. He made an instant decision right there and then, waving the fight off for good.

It was a TKO loss, the first one in Julien Fronterra's perfect professional record.

The crowd roared in approval at the upset that the young rookie had somehow been able to pull off against all odds but there was no sense of triumph in Marcus' face. Instead, there was…genuine worry. The referee had the same expression on his face and those sitting nearest to the octagon could see it too. The referee began shouting for help, telling the paramedics that Julien Fronterra needed immediate medical attention.

The commentators went silent and soon the once-deafening crowd followed suit. This was not a moment for celebration.

The paramedics rushed into the ring and the crowd gradually came to understand that this was not just a defeat, it was a tragedy unfolding in real time before their eyes.

Julien Fronterra laid flat on his back, staring at the blinding lights above. He could feel it in his bones. He could feel it in his soul that he was about to die.

The paramedics yelled something Julien wasn't able to make out and he could not help but let out a little laugh despite the situation he now found himself in.

Who would have thought that he'd end up dying in the ring? What better way to go out than doing what he loved?

Julien felt pride well up inside of him, knowing that he had quite literally fought to the bitter end. He could feel his chest getting tighter, it was getting harder to breathe with each passing second.

Julien Fronterra loved fighting. It started off as just an outlet for all the rage and pain he had felt from his childhood but it had become his passion and eventually his whole life. He had truly given everything to this sport.

Then dread began to wash over him as the reality finally hit him. And it hit him hard.

Julien Fronterra was about to die.

Other than his fans, who would miss him when he was gone? Who would mourn for him, cry for him and remember him for who he was?

To become as great as he was, Julien could not have a life that was normal. And Julien had chosen that life, pushing everyone away so that he could make this craft the only thing that mattered in his life.

In his dying moments, Julien asked himself: Was that sacrifice worth it?

He wanted to have people he could call his own.

He always told himself he'd start a family after this fighting career was behind him; once he'd finally made something of his life.

He had felt like deep down, he needed to become somebody who deserved all of that happiness because he never deserved it before all the victories he'd earned in the ring. Because without all of those accolades...he was a nobody.

He'd always wanted to meet a girl, one he'd fall in love with and one he could call the mother of his children.

He'd always wanted to be the father he never had.

He'd always wanted to come back home, knowing that there would be people waiting for him; waiting to greet and embrace him.

To get to the level Julien had reached in this sport, he had had to sacrifice all of it. He had pushed people away. He had achieved what he had always set out to do. So why did Julien feel so much regret? But to answer that question of whether or not doing all that was worth it for the life he had lived...Julien had known the answer all along.

He would give it all up for people he could call his own. People who he loved and who, he knew, cherished him the same way.

Tears began to well up in his eyes, sobbing now.

It did not matter if he went out fighting. Julien just knew he never wanted to go out alone.

Yet, he was aware his time had come and the worst part was that all he could feel was regret.

Not joy for what a fruitful life he'd lived, not pride for what he had been accomplished in the 32 years of his life but regret for the things he knew he could have done; held back by his own fears and insecurity.

Finally, his heart beat one final time and Julien Fronterra drew in his final breath. With it, Julien whispered something only he can hear amidst the chaos:

"If there's a god out there… please…give me another chance. Let me live again."

The world cut to black. It was a void, endless and empty. Julien could feel himself falling endlessly through the darkness. So this was how death felt like. He thought it would have been more painful.

Suddenly, there was a flash of green light that exploded before him and his fall was abruptly halted. Slowly he began to rise and there was nothing he could do despite the fear rising within him. There were cracks, as if this reality of the afterlife was being forcibly torn open, that appeared now.

Julien should hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing, BE NOTHING. What on Earth was happening right now? Could he not even rest in peace after death? Was this hell? Could this be punishment for making a living off of hurting people?

Julien never ever felt terror like this even against the most dangerous fighters of humanity.

The being that emerged was not human.

Julien could barely make out a silhouette, a figure who was obscured in an emerald sheen that seemed to emanate around him.

"You want a second chance? Very well then. I will watch your progress with great interest, Julien Fronterra. Prove to me you are a worthy investment." The voice sounded amused. It did not sound human. Far from it, in fact.

With a wave of a hand, his soul that should have been suspended in the abyss; waiting for judgement to the afterlife, began to ascend. Julien could feel the resistance, the chains of death that should have been untouchable trying to hold him down yet they broke apart like they were made of paper.

His prayer had been answered. In a single gesture, he had been granted life once more.

Just like that, Julien Fronterra was given his second chance.