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

The next two hundred years began not with fierce intensity—but with quiet resolve.

Lukas had mastered his body, his movements, his very nature as a dragon. Now, it was the sea that called to him; the mystical arts that he knew frighteningly little about.

The Divinity of the Seas. A current that hummed in the bones of all of the members of the Drakos bloodline. A call to the dragons who ruled the Seas of Linemall.

It was raw power shaped by will, but also by emotion. Though Lukas had made much progress in the first few months in Hiraeth, he had barely scratched the surface. And he knew if he wanted to achieve true strength, this was what he had to master.

The first few years were promising.

He followed the teachings of Lady Kaitlyn—her teachings etched into his memory, her voice guiding him from across time.

Soon, his magic flowed cleaner, smoother.

The water bent to his thoughts more readily now, shaping into ribbons and blades, waves and walls. Using the spells he knew became second nature, instinctively being able to be cast without much thought. The best way he could describe it was like gaining muscle memory from training as a fighter. Except this was imprinting a memory upon his very soul.

Fifty years into the Second Flip was when Lukas' progress grinded to a halt.

He had hit a wall. This was the limit—the hard line that he could not seem to cross. Lukas had reached the outer edge of everything Lady Kaitlyn had taught him. And while her knowledge was vast, their time together was sparse.

Lukas even tried mimicking Rodan's display of divine might—replaying every detail of their battle against the Hero From Another World in his mind. That had been the most fearsome display of the Divinity of the Seas he had seen and it was one that he wished to emulate.

Rodan had shown him. A demonstration of what true command over the Divinity looked like.

But imitation had its limits. The reality was that Rodan had taught him nothing. Lukas could imitate what he had seen, yes. But he could come nowhere close to the magnitude and technical prowess that Rodan had been capable of when it came to using this Divinity.

No matter how hard Lukas tried, the current resisted him. The sea pulled back. His strength frayed, his control slipped. Again and again and again. But nothing he did seemed to work.

He stood one day at the edge of the training chamber, breathless and soaked, seawater glinting against his skin. His fists were clenched. His voice was low.

"This isn't enough…" Lukas whispered to himself. Because it wasn't. But deep down, he knew what he had to do. For that was the only way he would be able to overcome this wall that seemed impossible to overcome.

The scent of sautéed onions filled the kitchen, warm and earthy. A soft sizzle echoed as Lukas stirred the roux gently, folding it into the thick curry as it bubbled with slow, even heat. He'd decided to take a break from his training, spending the evening with Styx instead. The Mistress of Kairos Castle leaned against the edge of the table behind him, watching curiously—chin resting on her hand.

"It smells heavenly," she murmured, nose wrinkling in appreciation. "You should've made this years ago. "

Lukas snorted, glancing over his shoulder. "You like anything I cook from Earth. What can I say? We know how to cook good food."

Styx gave him a mocking eye-roll but her smile stayed. She knew he was right.

Lukas' eyes lingered on the slow swirl of the curry. A pause. Slight. Heavy.

Styx tilted her head. She'd picked up on it almost immediately. "What's up?"

Lukas let out a soft breath. She knew him too well.

"I've hit a wall." He finally admitted.

"With your training." Styx guessed.

He nodded once, slow and reserved. "With the magic. My knowledge is far too limited."

She watched him quietly, arms crossed now. Her voice was colder, more measured, when she spoke again. "You've already come up with a solution, haven't you?"

Lukas didn't look at her. Didn't need to. Throughout the Trials, never once had he ever come to her for help. He wouldn't ever tell her about problems he had with his training even when she asked, not unless…he already had a solution to the problem.

Styx tilted her head to the side, realization hitting her just a second later.

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"And it's clear to me that you've already made up your mind. You're going to do it. Well, go on." She urged, curiosity getting the better of her. "So? What is it?"

"It's the Crest. I'm going to use the Crest of the Dragon Lords."

Her posture shifted—more alert now, far less playful. He'd told her about what had happened and what he'd had to do to flee from Nozar's navy.

"The Legacy…you used to escape from those humans." She said, remembering the night he had told her about their narrow escape.

"I only used it for a few seconds," Lukas recalled, shaking his head. "Just long enough to escape Nozar's fleet. It almost broke me."

Styx moved closer to him now, her hand reaching up to touch his face. "But you're thinking of using it again." She whispered, expression grim.

Lukas nodded, kissing her open palm before holding her hand in his.

"If I use the Crest, I'll be able to tap into the lives of the ones who came before me. Dragon Lords who have mastered the Divinity. I'll be able to speak to Rodan. Learn what he knew. Fight like he did."

"But-" she stopped before she could finish her sentence.

Lukas looked at her then, and in his eyes—along with that fiery determination she'd come to admire, one that went beyond reasoning—there was hesitation. She saw that there was doubt.

"But if I use it for too long," he said quietly, "I might not come back. There's a reason why not much is known about the Crest. Because the ones who have tried using it have lost themselves and they became…shells of their former selves.?

The words hovered between them like storm clouds.

Styx reached out and took the spoon from his hand, setting it aside. She met his gaze without flinching.

"Then why? Why do this, why take that risk? " She asked.

"You know why, Styx. I need to be stronger. I'm not strong enough as I am now. Not enough to protect Linemall. Not enough to stand beside Rodan. Not enough to face him."

He didn't need to say who it was. Styx knew he was referring to the Hero From Another World.

"And…?" she pressed gently.

Lukas' jaw tensed, the truth clawing at his throat."And I can't let myself return to the world unless I know I can survive it," he admitted. "Unless I know I can protect the people that I care about. I need to…feel like I can protect my people. Until then, I cannot leave this castle."

He looked at her for a long time, the silence between them a fragile thing.

Then he broke it, his voice raw with emotion. "Everything. I risk everything, Styx."

Lukas took a step forward, close enough to see the way her breath caught, the way her eyes softened even in the flicker of lanternlight.

His hands moved slowly, carefully, as though afraid she might pull away — but she didn't. He took her hands in his rough palms meeting hers, grounding himself in the moment.

Her hands were cold. His were shaking.

"I need you," Lukas whispered. His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated that it did. But he couldn't help it. "You are the one thing that's gonna be holding me together."

Her lips parted slightly. She didn't speak. Didn't breathe.

He held her gaze, fingers curling gently around hers. "You're my anchor. Whatever happens with the Crest, it's not real. You. You're real. You're here. And I need something—someone—to remind me of that. To hold me in the world where you exist."

Styx's eyes filled almost instantly, tears trembling along her lashes before they began to spill freely down her cheeks.

"Okay," she nodded, her voice quivering. "I'll be your anchor, Lukas. I'll be here. I am here."

Something inside him shattered—quietly, silently—but the pieces didn't fall apart. They settled. With a breath, Lukas brought his forehead to hers.

His eyes fluttered shut.

Then, with the smallest pull of power, he activated the Crown of the Lord. Lukas used it to form a connection, to open himself to her, to let her feel what he had never dared to say aloud.

His fears. His exhaustion. His doubts and insecurities. In doing so, he saw the true depth of her mind and it terrified him for she had lived for millennia. Despite this, Lukas did not break the connection.

Beneath it all, Lukas showed her. He showed her the way her presence softened everything. The way it mattered. Lukas had already accepted who he was now, who he had become.

He loved this life. But he liked himself even more with her in it.

Styx gasped, just a little, at the sudden depth of emotion she felt through the link. Her tears didn't stop. They only came faster.

The whisper of a bond born out of trust passed between them in that moment. A bond that more than either of them had ever put words to.

Then his voice broke again, barely more than a breath:

"If I don't come back… if I lose myself…" He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes glassy.

"No." Styx said, cutting him off. Her voice was firm, sharp even through the tears. Because she knew what he was asking her to do.

"You have to."

"I won't." She shook her head fiercely, gripping his hands like they were lifelines. "Because you will come back. You are going to come back. Do you hear me? You have to. You don't get to leave me like this. Not now. I'm your anchor."

Lukas stared at her — her eyes red, her voice trembling, but her resolve stronger than steel. And it undid him. A tear fell down his cheek, unbidden, followed by another.

He leaned into her again, resting their foreheads together. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

And in that moment, with the world impossibly still, they held each other —pain and love, grief and hope—bound not by fate, but by choice