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

The sails unfurled like massive wings, catching the wind with a mighty groan, and one by one, the ships of the Merchant Guild began to pull away from the docks of Easthaven. All around them, ropes were unfastened, anchors raised, sails drawn taut against the wind.

Rosalia stood at the edge of the upper deck, her hands gripping the railing tightly, her eyes misty as she waved with every bit of strength she had. Celina stood with her hand over her heart, her armor glinting beneath the morning sun, her face composed but her eyes undeniably soft. Beside her stood Magnus Elarion. The Head Mage of the Magic Tower. The King of Easthaven. But most importantly—Rosalia's grandfather.

Even now, Magnus stood proud, the sea wind stirring his long white cloak as he gave her a single nod.

That was all she needed. She returned the nod and whispered softly beneath her breath, "I'll make you proud."

It was a declaration so soft that only Lukas who stood beside her could hear it.

It took nearly an hour before Easthaven faded into the horizon, its marble towers and golden spires swallowed by the curvature of the sea. Only then did the cheers dull, replaced by the low rumble of waves beneath their ships. The seas beyond Easthaven were not calm.

They were furious.

Thunderclouds rolled on distant horizons, the wind grew teeth, and the waves—they rose before biting down on any ship that dared to sail across the waters. Towering crests from the ocean slammed against the hulls, sending tremors through the wood. Salt spray lashed at their faces and the skies darkened ever so slightly, casting a gray-blue veil over the fleet.

It became instantly clear why trade had all but died out in not only just Easthaven but most of the Kingdoms across the world of Hiraeth. It was more than obvious why the docks sat emptier than they should and why the Church now had more worshippers than ever before.

The seas had turned against them. He had turned against them and they did not know why. And no vessel—no matter how well built—could survive long without intervention.

Rosalia gripped the railing tighter, her knuckles pale. "It's like...the ocean is angry."

She had said the same thing to him when she'd first showed him around Easthaven. But still, for what reason? Lukas had no idea.

From across the distance, ships of the Nozari royal fleet had already surged ahead.

Even from here, they could see robed mages—dozens of them—working together atop each vessel. Their hands glowed with blue-white light as they bent the skies and soothed the winds. All of them casting spells woven in synchronization, spells that allowed them to travel safely back to Nozar. These weren't just your average mages. Their skill was on par to many of the mages that Lukas had come across in the Higher Floors of the Magic Tower.

And the Merchant Guild? They did not have dozens of mages, working together to keep the rage of Hiraeth's god at bay. Nor did they need them.

Because, the Merchant Guild had Jesse Sterling.

The young dragonborn stepped to the very front of the ship's prow, the wind already whirling around him, strands of his blonde hair fluttering with it. His eyes were closed. The storm, the pressure, the movement—it all surrounded him, and he stood in the heart of it like a conductor.

The winds answered him without question.

Rosalia watched in awe as Jesse raised a single hand. And in response, the wind didn't just shift.

It bent.

The storm seemed to part slightly around their ship, pushing the worst of the waves aside, funnelling the currents away from them.

The Sterlings were the dragons that ruled the domains above, wielders of the Divinities of the Skies—a rare and powerful magic that could manipulate the winds and even the storms themselves. Jesse had inherited more than just the ability to wield this Divinity. He was on the path to mastering it.

Lukas leaned against the rail beside Rosalia, watching as the ship settled into a smoother rhythm, the worst of the seas guided away. The air still tasted like salt and fury, but for now, they were safe.

The first few days at sea unfolded in a blur of crashing waves, salt-slicked decks, and the rhythmic groan of wood shifting beneath their feet.

For most of the crew members on board, it was routine—a pattern they had grown familiar with.

For Rosalia, everything was new.

The rocking of the ship. The salt-heavy air that clung to her hair. The endless blue horizon stretching in every direction.

And she loved every single bit of it.

She'd stumbled a bit on her first day, legs wobbly, nearly toppling over more times than she'd admit. But by the fifth sunrise, she was bounding across the deck with ease. Of course, she still lost her balance from time to time but Rosalia's spirit, untamed and hungry for the world, fit the waves far more easily than expected.

The ocean was a living, snarling thing, and for every breath of calm wind, there were hours of roaring winds and walls of water waiting to swallow them whole. Easthaven's traders hadn't been exaggerating—crossing Hiraeth's oceans wasn't just dangerous. It was damn near suicidal without magical interference.

And so, Lukas and Jesse took shifts. Each shift being twelve hours long.

Before Lukas, when Jesse did grow tired, it had been the dragonborn below deck that could wield the magic of the seas or the skies that kept the weather at bay. That responsibility now fell to Lukas, as it should. Lukas, of course, could've handled all of it. With his Divinity of the Seas, he could hold back entire storms with a lazy flick of his wrist for the entire duration of their journey to Nozar. But Jesse insisted in doing his part.

"This isn't about pride," Jesse told him one night beneath a dark sky, clouds swirling above them. "It's about practice, my Lord. I don't get many chances to use my Divinity so freely. And I won't get better at using it by letting you take on the burden on your own."

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Lukas had to respect that. Because truthfully…he recognized that quiet intensity in Jesse's eyes. That desperate need to improve. To prove himself capable of greatness. It was the same look he must have had during his first centuries spent in Kairos Castle. Jesse reminded Lukas of himself in a way that was almost uncomfortable. That was also why Lukas was so fond of the young dragonborn.

When Lukas took control, the waves bent to his will effortlessly, parting like curtains. The ocean obeyed him because it recognized him—because he was of the seas, something born from it, something that had grown to become greater than it.

When Jesse took over, it was different. His magic wasn't like the brutal and almost undeniable control that Lukas had over his own Divinity. The winds danced with him, clouds shifted for him. His control wasn't perfect, not like Lukas', but it was growing. Stronger and sharper, more confident by the day.

And Rosalia? She never missed a moment. She'd sit on the railing or atop a barrel, eyes wide as she watched Jesse work. The wind tugging at his hair. The lightning flickering in his fingertips. She didn't say much, but her expression said it all. Admiration. Fascination. And something else—something Jesse was too dense to notice.

Ellion, the Archmage's apprentice, would often be present as well. He studied Jesse with great curiosity for Jesse was younger than him yet was capable of such great magic. Though Varian spent most of his time drinking or passed out somewhere below deck, his apprentice remained a silent observer of it all.

Velena and the other seasoned traders of the Guild had seen it all before. They'd travelled these routes under Jesse's wind time and time again. Jesse had ensured their safety time and time again as they sailed across Hiraeth. They trusted the young boy with their lives, even when many of them did not know of his draconic origins.

The mages on board of any vessel that dared to sail these waters were not only responsible for making sure they got to their destination safely but also to allow them to travel with much greater speeds. If the Merchant Guild and King Daerion's fleet had relied solely on traditional sailing methods, the journey would've taken months, maybe a year. But now?

At this rate, they'd reach Nozar in a matter of weeks.

It was clear at this point to Lukas that Rosalia had a thing for Jesse—even if she didn't quite understand it yet. But Jesse, as always, was oblivious.

Now more than ever, he was buried in his work. With deadline that was coming up for the product the Guild had to present before the richest and most powerful figures in Hiraeth, Jesse barely spoke to anyone. He muttered to himself constantly, pacing the upper deck like a man possessed, furiously scribbling things into a leather-bound journal, pausing only to ensure that his spells persisted to keep the weather at bay. Even Valkari—once inseparable from him—had become little more than a passing shadow in his periphery. She seemed to remain below deck in the ship's lowest levels to continue caring for the dragons on board.

In the meantime, Rosalia and Lukas had not stopped their training. The sound of waves crashing against the hull formed a constant backdrop as Rosalia stood at the edge of the deck, water coiling slowly around her outstretched fingers. Lukas watched with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"Again," he said. "Faster now."

Rosalia nodded but didn't move. Her eyes flicked sideways—toward the upper deck, where Jesse stood with one hand outstretched, wind spiralling gently around his fingers as he held the storm at bay. His coat fluttered in the rising breeze, and his brows were furrowed in thought as he worked silently, muttering under his breath.

She blinked and looked back at him. "Sorry. I'm just—"

"Distracted," he finished for her.

She lowered her hands and looked down at her feet.

"You haven't been focused all week," Lukas continued. "Your form's been sloppy, your timing's off, and I can't remember the last time you actually listened when I spoke."

Rosalia opened her mouth to defend herself but closed it again. Because he wasn't wrong. She had been distracted. Watching Jesse. Thinking about Jesse. Thinking about what Jesse thought of her.

He knew it wasn't his place to decide what someone felt which was why he hadn't said anything about Rosalia's crush on Jesse. But he was responsible for her training. Her attention drifting to Jesse every time they tried to make progress was not going to cut it.

Lukas sighed. Then, he looked up to the top deck.

"Jesse!" he called.

The boy turned, surprised.

"Take a break," Lukas told him.

"But it's not time to swap shifts yet," Jesse replied. "I'm still good to—"

"Undo your spells." He insisted, his tone firm.

Jesse hesitated, glancing toward the storm clouds above. The sky was darker than usual. But something in Lukas' voice made him obey without further question.

Slowly, Jesse raised his hand and unravelled the magic that clung to the skies.

The change was immediate. The air grew heavier. The sails flapped violently and the clouds overhead churned, growing thick and thunderous. Waves began to rise and slam against the hull, the ship groaning as it rocked from side to side. Crew members stumbled, many of them shouted and ran below deck.

Rosalia gripped the railing, eyes wide as a wave nearly crested over the edge of the ship.

"Lukas! What's happening?!" she cried, spinning toward Lukas. "Why aren't you controlling it?!"

He didn't move. He didn't even blink.

"You beat Soren using my Divinity," Lukas answered calmly. "The Divinity of the Seas. But you fail to understand that what you used was nothing but a cheap imitation."

She stared at him, stunned. "What—?"

Another wave slammed into the ship. Rosalia staggered, grabbing a nearby post for balance.

"You're not ready to use it," Lukas told her. "Because you don't respect it. But you will. You will come to respect the Seas, Rosalia."

The wind howled. The ocean roared. And Rosalia looked out into it—into the wrath of something far older and stronger than any kingdom, any army. And for the first time, she began to understand what Lukas meant by his words. She wished to use the seas as a tool at her disposal. But the seas was a living force.

Endless.

Ancient.

And undeniably terrifying.

Rosalia turned back toward Lukas. His eyes were on her but there was no cruelty in them. She began to realize that this was no punishment, even though it felt like it. The princess felt ashamed of herself because Lukas was right. She had been distracted. She had neglected her training, growing complacent after defeating Soren. Her fear did not disappear. She was still scared out of her mind, heart pounding against her chest like a beating drum. But something else rose to meet it—something stronger than that fear that threatened to paralyze her in the face of such terrifying power the oceans held.

And that was conviction.

Without another word, Rosalia turned back to the waves around her and let go of the railing that she had been holding onto so desperately.

Then, she leapt into the ocean.

"ROSALIA!" Jesse shouted, rushing forward—but Lukas caught him by the shoulder.

Jesse turned toward him, panic still in his eyes.

"Do you trust me, Jesse?" He asked him and the young dragonborn looked out into the storm, where the waves swallowed her whole.

"I do." Jesse whispered even if part of him didn't believe it.

Lukas knew this was something he had to do. This was her first real lesson. She would never get anywhere with endless drills that simply tested her endurance. If she wanted to wield the Divinity of the Seas, Rosalia Elarion would have to earn the right to do so.