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

Lukas had spent the last fifty years mastering his body. Years of strain, sweat, and transformation. Years where the walls of the castle blurred into the wind of his wings. Where the sky above became a mirror of the self he was carving, piece by piece. But even in his obsession—even through the blur of strikes and aerial spins —there had always been one constant:

The food.

He had only really noticed it in passing. At first, he thought it was simply magic—another strange convenience the castle afforded. But it wasn't just any food. It was food from Earth. Steaks. Charred just right. Cooked to perfection. Along with a side of golden fries, crisp on the outside, warm and soft within. It was the meal that he would reward himself after every fight.

Served with an ice-cold glass of Sprite that reminded him of cheap diners and late-night drives.

Along with the meal was the arrival of something he'd never encountered before: Liquid Fire in a cup. Set right next to his glass of soda. In the cup was a glowing orange elixir, thick like syrup, warm to the touch. The first time he drank it, he flinched—expecting agony. But instead, it brought relief. The soreness drained from his limbs. Microtears in his muscles mended. His scales shimmered sharper. His reflexes heightened.

All of it felt so real that Lukas had to remind himself often that this was simply just a simulation. The Trials of Kairos Castle would have no real effect on his body in the living world. But he was more than glad for the food that the castle provided. It became part of his ritual. Train. Eat. Burn. Sleep.

But it wasn't until now—when his pace had slowed, when the obsession began to give way to awareness—that he finally realized who had been the one responsible for providing him these meals for the last five decades.

He caught her. Just once. Not through a grand entrance. Not in some dramatic reveal. No—she had simply walked in while he had been training. A faint hum under her breath. A tray balanced in one hand, a flicker of fire in the other.

The Mistress of Kairos Castle. She was dressed plainly. No flair. No smug grin.

Just...there.

Her caramel skin caught in the candlelight, her brow furrowed in thought as she gently set the plate down, repositioned a folded cloth napkin—and paused. She looked up and their eyes met. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a smile after a second of silence. It was the first time that Lukas had ever noticed her. How had he not spotted her before?

Then she turned, vanishing without a trace before he could speak.

When he had finished his training, the food was still warm. The firewater pulsed gently in its cup. Lukas stared at the tray for a long time. All this time, he had trained like a beast. Like a dragon possessed. He had lost count of the years, his focus buried so deeply into every movement that he had stopped acknowledging the world around him. And yet...she had always been there. Every single day without fail, she prepared him a meal to feast on.

She hadn't just been a spectator. Not just a gatekeeper of the Trials. But a silent hand in the background—feeding him and healing him. She had cared for him, in her own cryptic, reluctant way. And she did not ask for thanks, not even after half a century had passed.

The next day, Lukas decided to take a break from his training. He sat by the stone fire pit in the empty hall. His claws idly traced the cracks in the floor, wings folded gently at his back.

When the Mistress arrived, tray in hand, she froze. Lukas met her eyes and smiled, gently.

"Thank you," he spoke with his thoughts; using the Crown to connect to her mind.

She blinked.

"For what?" she muttered, setting the tray down gently as per usual.

"For giving me food." he told her through the connection that had been established. "Even when I was too lost in myself to notice."

The Goddess looked away and Lukas could've sworn it was to hide her embarrassment. "You needed fuel. I gave it. I need no gratitude from you."

"Too late for that," Lukas chuckled. "Fifty years late, in fact."

The Mistress snorted. "Dragons always take decades to notice the obvious."

Then, a pause.

"You're not like the others," she added softly. "That's...maybe the part that's most dangerous."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because you see things that usually go unnoticed."

She turned, walking away again—just as quietly as she always did. Just as the goddess turned to leave, tray in hand, Lukas spoke; asking the question that he had been meaning to ask since the moment they met.

"…What's your name?" He asked.

She paused in the doorway and slowly turned back to him. The flames from the brazier flickered behind her, casting her silhouette in gold and shadow.

"My name?" she repeated, as though amused he had the nerve to ask.

He nodded, genuine curiosity clear in his eyes. "Your name. You know mine. But I only know you as the Mistress of Kairos Castle. I'd like to know your name."

"Styx," she answered finally. "My name is Styx."

Styx turned, leaving before he could fully absorb the weight of her answer. But her name echoed through his mind.

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Styx. The very name invoked in vows sworn by gods and kings alike. The river of eternal promise. The last word before judgment. The name that no one, mortal or not, dared lie upon. Even the Titans feared her wrath. It took a while for Lukas to wrap his head around that fact.

The next time she came, the tray still in hand, she stopped short.

There was a table. A small one, stone-carved and slightly uneven—but set with two plates, a pair of goblets, even napkins. Lukas was in his humanoid form now, no longer taking on the form of the towering dragon for the majority of the last fifty years. He didn't say a word. Not as she walked in. Not as she set the tray down.

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Styx said nothing. Because, in truth, she didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to think of Lukas' gesture. And as she turned once again, ready to leave with her usual practiced indifference-

"Lady Styx…would you…like to dine with me?"

Lukas' voice was quieter than before. Almost shy. The silence that followed was thick—not awkward, but the tension between them was unbearable. As if time itself was waiting for her answer. She looked closely at what Lukas had set up. The table was a crooked little thing that Lukas himself had carved out of the walls of Kairos Castle, obviously chiseled by hand, uneven legs and all.

Two plates were set, two cups waiting to be poured. There was even an attempt at folding napkins (Terribly folded, but the effort was...noted). And there Lukas was in his humanoid form. Hair damp, shirtless, arms crossed as he stood by the table. Not looking directly at her, but clearly waiting. He had never asked a girl out before, let alone an immortal River Goddess.

From his perspective, Styx kept her expression flat—mildly disinterested, even. Just the usual half-smirk, looking him up and down.

Inside the mind of Styx:

OH MY GOD. WHAT.

Did this man just ask me to eat with him? ME?? THE RIVER?? Is he asking me out on a date? No one has EVER asked me to dinner in six million years. This man just crafted a whole-ass table with his bare hands and he even tried folding the napkins. Napkins. For me?

Do I look okay? Should I conjure up a new robe? Othrys, do I smell okay?

Back in reality, she let the silence linger dramatically. Then, after a long pause: "…I would like that."

She sat stiffly at first. Lukas smiled and handed her a plate from the tray that she had set down. The smell of steak and charred peppers rose between them. Styx sat rigidly in the stone chair, her fork untouched, her golden gaze flickering over the meal like this wasn't exactly her cup of tea when it come to food choices.

Lukas stared at his own plate, wondering if asking a goddess to dinner was some kind of sacrilege. He cleared his throat, coughed, reached for his cup, then set it down again.

"…So," he finally muttered. "Do you…even eat?"

Styx blinked. Then she laughed—soft, a little unexpected. And her laugh was the cutest thing that Lukas had heard in a long while. Just like that, the tension faded.

"Occasionally," she said. "Only when I feel like it. But rarely like this." Rarely with another sitting across from her.

Lukas cracked a smile. He took a bite of steak, chewing while watching her cautiously spear a piece of food. She seemed to have cooked this food for him for fifty straight years but never once had she considered it appetizing enough to give it a taste.

"Not bad," Styx admitted when she finally took a bite. "For cooked meat and potatoes. I did cook them after all."

"Can't really go wrong with that. So you're really…Styx. Like the Styx."

"The one and only." She sipped from her cup, her posture a little more relaxed now. "Goddess of the River. Keeper of unbreakable oaths. The one who everyone swears their eternal promises on."

Lukas exhaled through his nose. "No pressure, huh."

Her lip twitched. "More than you know."

Lukas studied her now—really studied her. The caramel-burnished skin, the eyes that gleamed like molten gold, the way she carried herself like someone who'd lived through more centuries than she cared to count. There was power in her presence—but also…burden.

"So why'd you choose to do this?" he asked, voice quieter now. "The Mistress of Kairos Castle. Why stick around a place like this? With me?"

Styx twirled her fork slowly between her fingers. For a long moment, she didn't answer. But then she set it down, and her gaze met his—calm, but distant, like she was looking at something far behind him.

"…Because here, in Kairos Castle," she whispered softly, "time stops. And so does everything else."

Styx leaned back in her chair. "I don't have to hear every oath that's spoken in every corner of the world. I don't have to watch men and gods break promises with blood still dripping from their hands. I don't have to be...her. They may swear their oaths on my name but they fear what I will do to them if they break it. They're terrified of me. They all are."

She laughed. But there was something hollow in that laugh. "But here…?" she admitted, "I can just…be me."

Lukas nodded slowly, understanding blooming in the silence between them. He'd seen what power did to people. What responsibility demanded. And now, he saw it in her too—the goddess who carried every vow, every contract, every desperate promise humans had ever made.

He took a sip from his cup. "I had a friend once," Lukas' voice was strained, remembering his familiar. The familiar that had saved his life. "Back in Linemall. He made an oath…to the River Styx. To never return. I honestly…regret making him swear that oath."

Styx's eyes flicked toward him. "The Kraken."

His breath hitched.

Styx gave him a soft, amused smile. "I remember him. He's alive. And he must be one good friend because he's the only reason you're still breathing."

Lukas stared at her, stunned. "What? Are you serious? How is that even possible? He was cut in half!"

"He was," Styx said. "But the magic of the mind isn't the only card the Cthulu have up their sleeves. He's more capable than you realize."

Lukas leaned forward, shoulders slack, lips parted. Relief poured through him like a wave. "Thank the gods," he murmured, voice thick.

"You're welcome," she told him with a little laugh.

That made him laugh too, sharp and honest. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, the tension bleeding out of him. "I'm serious. Thank you for telling me. That means everything."

They sat in silence again, but now it was comfortable. It was nice. Then Lukas looked at her, the idea of something new burning behind his eyes.

"If someone swore an oath… to you," he asked slowly, "could it ever be undone?"

Styx tapped her fingers on the edge of her plate. Thoughtful. "Normally… no. The River doesn't forget. And I don't undo what has been sworn on my name."

Lukas opened his mouth, but she raised a hand.

"But," she spoke before he could, eyes narrowing with a faint smile, "for you and your friend? Maybe I'll consider it."

Their eyes met. And Lukas felt a warmth in his chest that he had not felt before. Lukas reached for the bread, tearing it in half and offering her a piece.

"We should do this more often." Lukas really hoped they would.

She took the bread with a grin. Lukas leaned back in his chair, that last bit of bread still warm between his fingers. The flicker of firelight danced on the marble walls, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't just training or surviving—he was living.

Styx nursed her drink, one leg crossed over the other, a satisfied look softening her usual sharp expression.

"You're different from the rest," she finally said quietly, not looking at him. "Most who come to Kairos are so caught up in their own minds that they barely even notice me."

Lukas tilted his head, amused. "Only took me fifty years, give or take."

"I don't dislike your company, Lukas Drakos. That's also why you're different from the rest." she answered with a small smirk.

He chuckled. "High praise from the goddess of eternal oaths."

She rose then, brushing nonexistent dust from her robes. But before Styx turned to leave, she looked over her shoulder, a smile curling into something sly. "Oh—and Lukas?"

"Yeah?"

"You're doing the dishes tonight."

He blinked. "What? Why?"

"Because I'm the one allowing your Kraken friend a chance to return. That's divine negotiation. Plus, I've been doing it for the last fifty fucking years."

His mouth dropped open. "You're seriously bartering the undoing of an unbreakable oath for dish duty?"

"Get to scrubbing, Dragon Boy. And no shortcuts. I'll know." Then she vanished with a flick of her wrist.

Lukas sighed, staring at the pile of plates. But still, as he picked up the first dish and heard his own quiet laughter echo through the empty castle halls. For the first time in fifty years, Lukas Drakos had something else to look forward to other than his training.