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

The night was cold but clear as they left the palace behind, their footsteps echoing softly through the stone streets.

The old man walked with a quiet purpose, his silver cloak dragging slightly across the ground, the folds catching moonlight as though the fabric itself was woven from starlight.

Magnus Elarion did not speak, nor did Lukas ask—at least not at first.

They crossed the empty courtyards, ascended the steps of the Tower, and entered through its great doors. The halls were eerily silent at this hour, the usual humming of spells and murmured incantations gone, leaving only the faint creak of ancient wood and the soft brush of their footsteps against the worn stone.

What was this all about? Lukas wondered. What did the old man have to show him at this time of night?

But Magnus said nothing. He simply led the way with Lukas following just a few steps behind.

Step by step, they climbed. Past the training floors. Past the great libraries of the Tower. Past the levels where Archmages themselves resided. Higher still—into territory Lukas had only heard whispers about. A place no apprentice, no certified mage, no one but the King of Easthaven himself was said to have access to.

They walked in silence for what felt like hours, the spiral staircase wrapping around itself, ever narrower as they rose.

It was only when they crossed the final archway—when Lukas saw the sigils carved into the stone, the ones that shimmered faintly as they passed—that he began to realize where the old man could be taking him. But he wasn't certain.

Finally, when Lukas could no longer contain his curiosity, he spoke—his voice soft, uncertain in the face of such quiet reverence.

"…Where are you taking me, old man?"

Magnus didn't turn, his voice distant yet firm. "You'll see."

The final steps creaked under their weight. Lukas could feel the shift in the air now—thinner, colder, but thrumming faintly with intense power. The kind of magic that did not linger in books or rituals, but something more fundamental to the world itself.

And then finally, they reached it.

The Highest Floor of the Magic Tower, somewhere no mage had ever been able to reach. No mage except Magnus Elarion himself. And now, Lukas Drakos would be the second one to ever step foot on the final floor of this tower.

Lukas was greeted by a chamber crowned with a skylight, vast and crystalline, its glass flawless as it opened the heavens to them. He stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat as he realized just how high they had climbed.

Beyond the glass, their ascent had brought them above the endless skies of Easthaven, of Hiraeth itself. For what Lukas saw was not just the night sky. Not just the constellations of Hiraeth.

But the universe beyond.

Planets he had never seen, stars burning with colours he had no names for, a tapestry of existence so vast and brilliant it made the wars and gods and rivalries of his world seem…small. Insignificant. And yet, painfully beautiful.

For a long while, neither of them spoke.

Lukas slowly turned to the old man, his brow furrowed in quiet wonder. "Why…why did you bring me here?"

Magnus, hands folded behind his back, still gazed through the skylight, his face unreadable beneath the silver of his beard.

"Tomorrow," the King stated at last, "you will no longer be my apprentice." He finally turned to Lukas, his pale eyes sharp with something that bordered on melancholy. "I have taught you everything I know. There is nothing more I can give you."

Lukas' throat tightened. He hadn't expected this moment to weigh so heavily on him.

"This…" Magnus gestured to the skylight, to the infinite beyond. "This will be your final lesson."

The dark canvas of outer space shimmered before them, pinpricked by countless stars, some faint, some burning so bright they left trails of light in his vision. Galaxies spiraled in slow, elegant dances. Planets, vivid with color, hovered like marbles scattered across the endless void. Some were cloaked in mist, others crackled with storms, and others gleamed with the unmistakable blue of oceans.

Lukas felt his chest tighten. Perhaps this was just the final nail in the coffin for him to realize that...he was very very far from home. Far from Earth. Far from the life he once knew, the life he had known as Julien Fronterra.

And yet, the universe did not feel foreign to him—it felt painfully vast, but… familiar. As if he had always been meant to see this.

Magnus Elarion's voice broke the silence, low but clear. "There are others."

The old man raised his hand and slowly gestured to the worlds beyond.

"There are humans on every one of those planets. Just like us."

Lukas turned to him, eyes wide, but Magnus' gaze was fixed upward, his expression one of distant knowing.

"Those worlds are unlike anything we have seen before. But make no mistake—" Magnus' gaze sharpened, the weight of his knowledge pressing into the air around them. "—they are not so different from us."

With a snap of his fingers, the ceiling shifted. The skylight zoomed in, the stars rushing toward them, the galaxies twisting and pulling until one planet filled the entire glass pane above their heads.

What Lukas saw left him breathless.

A world of searing deserts and warriors with burning eyes locked in battle beneath skies the color of dying embers. Colossal beasts roamed the crimson sands. Cities of gold rose and fell as firestorms consumed their walls.

Another snap. Another world.

A kingdom built atop a forest of endless night. Armored giants marched beneath the shadowed canopy. Mages wove spells in such a way that Lukas had never seen before, different variants of magic that Lukas had difficulty wrapping his head around.

Again. Another snap.

A war-torn oceanic empire, its cities drifting atop the waves, eternal storms raging overhead. Dragons soared—not the dragons Lukas knew—but ethereal, ghost-like creatures with translucent wings that shimmered like moonlight on water.

And in all of them—

Every world. Every battlefield. Every sacred temple and unmarked shrine.

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In all of them, there were gods. Deities sculpted in stone, painted on murals, etched into the foundation of ancient and futuristic cities alike.

"In all the worlds I have seen, Lukas, one thing remains constant. What remains constant is that us humans, we worship the gods."

Magnus' voice became quiet, as if he were afraid to speak too loud for fear of being overheard.

"And here, in Hiraeth, we bow to Oceanus."

Lukas couldn't tear his eyes from the web of stars, from the shimmering threads that bound worlds to gods, mortals to immortals.

The silence stretched between them, vast and heavy, as if the weight of the cosmos had pressed itself into this very room.

But at last, he found his voice.

"Why are you showing me this? Why are you telling me this, Magnus?" His words were quiet but edged with something raw—wonder, confusion, maybe even fear.

Magnus didn't answer immediately. He stood with his back to Lukas, staring into the abyss, hands clasped loosely behind him as if he had asked himself this question many times.

Finally, his voice came, low and distant.

"It is my dream, Lukas."

Lukas blinked, caught off guard by the softness in those words.

Magnus turned to him, his expression as calm and steady as the seas before a storm.

"It is my dream…that one day, humans will be free."

The words echoed in the air, settling into Lukas like slow-falling ash.

"Free to live without being forced to bend the knee. Free to walk their own paths. Free to build kingdoms, raise their children, fall in love…without the shadow of a god looming over them. Without being bound to the will of an immortal simply because that being is more powerful."

His gaze drifted back to the stars, his voice turning wistful, like a man staring at a sunrise he would never see.

"I have served this Tower all my life. I have served this kingdom. There was a time that I once believed in Oceanus. And do you know why the people of Hiraeth worship Oceanus? Because it is what we have been told is right. It is what we have been told is the only possibility."

His fists tightened at his sides.

"I have watched men and women be born into chains they do not know exist. They pray to the gods, yes. But they do not pray out of love. They pray out of fear. Out of tradition. Out of obligation."

Lukas said nothing, only listening, feeling the words settle into the marrow of his bones.

"I do not wish for a world without gods, Lukas. Please understand this. Hiraeth would not exist without the Titan, Oceanus." Magnus' silver eyes flickered, his voice steady but heavy with conviction. "But I do wish for a world where my descendants...may experience a life without these chains."

A faint smile ghosted across the old man's lips.

"To choose which god they will worship…or to choose to worship none at all."

Lukas' throat tightened. It was a simple wish. And yet, it was the most dangerous dream of all: Freedom. Not from kings. Not from tyrants. But from the very beings who stood at the pinnacle of power and strength.

Magnus turned to him fully now, his face unreadable, his hands clasped behind his back once more.

"I am telling you this, Lukas...because I see it in you."

There was a spark in the old man's eyes, quiet but fierce.

"You do not crave power for power's sake. You do not climb the Tower for glory. You protect those who have no protection. You teach those the Church would cast aside. You fight, not because you must, but because you believe."

He stepped forward, his gaze boring into Lukas with the weight of a lifetime's faith.

"And I tell you all this because I will not live long enough to see this dream fulfilled."

Lukas swallowed hard, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each breath. The silence stretched between them, but Lukas felt it—the gravity of the moment, pressing into his chest like a second heartbeat.

Magnus finally spoke, his voice quieter now, not because he was uncertain, but because he was speaking of a future that neither of them might ever see.

"I know this time is not now."

His silver gaze flicked back to the skylight, to the faint threads that had long since disappeared.

"It may not come in my lifetime. And it may not come in yours. I am not even sure… if it will ever come at all."

The old man's hands curled behind his back, and when he turned to face Lukas again, there was no fire in his eyes, no grand declaration—just the quiet resolve of a man entrusting his dream to another.

"But it is my duty to ensure that I lay the groundwork." He stepped forward, each word settling into Lukas like a stone. "Rosalia is one of them. And the language of Runes is another."

Magnus lifted a hand, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"They are the foundation. The foundation upon which humanity's freedom will one day be built."

Lukas felt the ache rise in his throat again. He was a dragon now. He would always be a dragon. Though this life had been borrowed, though he had been given a second chance wrapped in scales and Divinity, he had once lived as something else.

He had once been human. And he had died as one.

Magnus' gaze softened, as if he could see the turmoil buried behind Lukas' calm exterior.

"You will outlive me, Lukas. You will likely outlive Rosalia. You will outlive kingdoms and dynasties. You will see the rise and fall of empires, and you will be here long after even my grandchildren no longer walk the face of Hiraeth."

The weight of that truth settled heavily upon Lukas. He had known that, of course. Dragons lived far longer than any human did. But now it sat in his chest like a stone that would never erode.

"You will remain. You will endure." Magnus' voice did not falter.

The old man's hand fell upon Lukas' shoulder, firm, resolute.

"Guide humanity to greener pastures. Pass on what I have taught you. Pass it on to your students. Pass it on to those who would listen. Pass it on to the ones who are desperate to learn but are told they are not worthy."

His fingers squeezed Lukas' shoulder, the ghost of a tremble in his grip.

"For one day, someone will come."

Magnus let his hand fall away.

"One blessed with the brightest mind. One who will use my life's work. One who will use it to bring this dream, my dream, the dreams of so many out there to life." His eyes burned with that small but fierce hope. "One who will allow humans to realize their full potential. One who will finally guide them to stand on their own, to walk unshackled, to live…truly live…independent from the immortals who demand their worship."

Lukas' throat was tight, his chest heavy. He bowed his head, the words thick in his throat but certain.

"I will." He whispered, a wave of different emotions surging within him.

Magnus smiled, faint and tired.

"That is all I can ask of you."

Without another word, the old man turned, his footsteps slow as he descended the spiraling stairs, the dream now resting in the hands of another. Lukas remained beneath the skylight, staring into the endless stretch of stars, feeling the pull of something vast and ancient pressing into his soul.

Even if he would never see the garden bloom, Lukas would plant the seeds. And he would make sure they grew.

The skylight above dimmed, the threads of connection slowly fading into the gentle flicker of distant stars.

Magnus turned one last time as he began his slow walk back toward the spiraling stairs.

"The graduation ceremony begins at dawn," Magnus reminded Lukas, his voice almost an afterthought. "You should get some rest."

This was the Head Mage's final lesson. Not a spell. Not a technique. Not a secret formula scrawled in complex runes.

But this.

A truth.

A hope.

A burden.

A seed.

It was the lesson Lukas would remember for as long as he lived—not as a student, nor as the Head Mage's apprentice—but as the dragon who would outlast the passing of centuries, as the guardian of a dream too vast for one lifetime to realize.

It would be the flame that would not burn out, the oath he would not break. Because though kingdoms may crumble and oceans may dry, he would remain. And so would this lesson.

It would remain with Lukas Drakos for the rest of his days.