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

Two weeks had passed since they first set sail from Easthaven, and each day on the sea had been a lesson.

Every morning, before the ship stirred to full activity, Rosalia and Lukas would descend to the lowest floor of the Merchant Guild's flagship vessel.

A wide, quiet space with floors reinforced by mana-threaded wood, the bottom deck was reserved for those who had been set free from their human captors—dragons and wyverns alike—all recovering, healing, finding peace.

Here, beneath the roar of the crashing waves and above the hum of magic that powered the ship forward, Lukas trained her. Not just to use the Divinity of the Seas. But to understand it.

Lukas had decided quickly that it was better if they did not train above deck where unwanted eyes could observe them.

The less they knew, the better.

"Again," Lukas repeated, a word that he had said many times during these past two weeks.

Rosalia stood barefoot in a shallow pool of seawater he had drawn from the ocean.

Her hands were trembling, hair damp with sweat and salt, but the fire in her eyes remained.

She moved her hands, guiding the flow of mana from all around her—spreading her intent into the water. A tendril formed. It weaved into a ribbon, then collapsed into a wave. It crashed to the floor and not in the way she had intended.

Lukas didn't say anything.

She sighed. "I know. Try again."

Rosalia didn't know why he was making her do this, why he wouldn't let her move on to the next spells of the Divinity. But Rodan hadn't let Lukas move on either—not until he had mastered the first. Not until he understood it completely for the first spell set the foundation for all that she would learn later down the line.

Regardless of what the reason was that remained unknown to her, the Princess of Easthaven simply nodded.

No complaints. No whining.

That's what always surprised Lukas the most about her.

He expected a tantrum or excuses like any other child might've thrown by now. She was still a child but mature beyond her years when it came to sheer work ethic and mentality. She listened. She learned. She fell, and she got back up.

Though Lukas had not said it out right, Rosalia knew that she could not afford to continue being complacent.

As Lukas watched over the girl, he remembered how long it took him to master the first spell. It had taken him years, even though the seas flowed through his very veins.

Would it take just as long for her?

Lukas honestly doubted it.

Now that she understood that she had to wield his Divinity in her own way, one that fit her capabilities, she had begun to make steady progress. Rosalia was talented and when talent chose to work hard, the question wasn't whether or not they would become exceptional. Lukas simply wondered how exceptional she would grow to become in the coming years.

Hours passed and Rosalia finally finished her training for the day, her limbs tired but her spirit as restless as ever. Now, she ran barefoot across the wooden floor of the ship's lowest floor, chasing after a cluster of dragon children who squealed and fluttered their wings as they scattered in all directions. Her laughter rang out like sunlight in the dim, candlelit space—warm and disarming.

All of the dragons and wyverns alike had taken to her in a way no one expected. Even Valkari Ishtar.

From her usual post in the shadows, Valkari watched silently as the young princess knelt beside a baby wyvern whose scales were still dulled with bruises. Rosalia reached out, her hands glowing faintly with healing magic, and whispered soft encouragements. The wyvern whimpered once, but didn't pull away. Instead, it leaned into her palm.

Valkari said nothing. But her gaze softened and that spoke more than any words she could say.

Around them, older dragons—some with jagged scars from their time in captivity—shifted uneasily. Yet none growled, none hissed. A few even allowed Rosalia to pass by with no more than a quiet, wary glance. The ones that had been wounded most grievously—both in body and soul—still kept their distance, preferring to nest in the darker corners of the ship. But even they watched her now, eyes half-lidded, not with suspicion, not with hostility but with curiosity.

The princess wasn't just a friendly face. It was the way Rosalia moved—unafraid, but respectful. Attentive, but not imposing. And the way she numbed the pain of all those around her, the warm gentle aura of hers—nurturing, like spring after a long, cruel winter. Lukas still remembered how she had kept him alive, back when they first met. She had healed not just his wounds, but something deeper. Something he hadn't known was broken.

Rosalia was doing the same thing now.

The silence that Valkari maintained whenever the human princess spent time down here was simply unfamiliar.

Rosalia spoke freely, as she always did, yammering about the names she had given each baby dragon, about how Jesse kept muttering to himself above deck, about how she thought she saw Valkari smile earlier ("Even if you didn't, I saw your eyes squint a little, so maybe you wanted to smile!").

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Valkari, overwhelmed but not retreating, simply listened.

Occasionally blinking. Occasionally frowning.

Mostly...still listening to every word the Princes had to say.

Lukas leaned against one of the walls as he watched over the both of them. He couldn't help the grin that crept up his face.

It was strange, really—how easily Rosalia slipped her way into the hearts of others. Even Valkari, the one who bore her hatred as a shield. She was doing what no one else could; healing them all in her very own special way.

Lukas suddenly glanced upward, his gaze cutting through the floorboards above, past the walls of the ship, as if sensing the wind itself. Even from here—deep below deck—he could feel it.

The waves had started to shift.

Jesse's control was waning.

It had not gotten out of hand just yet but Lukas could sense the subtle change in rhythm, the slight inconsistencies in the wind currents that flowed through the seas around them, like a symphony just beginning to fall out of tune.

Jesse was burning out. He had been holding the sea's wrath at bay for hours beyond his designated shift, too stubborn to rest. As usual.

Lukas sighed and turned his head, finding Valkari seated a few feet away, her posture rigid as she tended to a young dragon curled in her lap. The creature purred softly beneath her careful touch.

"Valkari."

She looked up at once.

"Would you go above deck?" Lukas asked. "And tell Jesse he can take a break. I'll take over from here on out until we get to Nozar. If he argues, tell him that I need him to be ready for anything when we arrive."

Valkari blinked before frowning. H

er eyes drifted towards the dragons around her and Lukas immediately saw the worry in her eyes.

She felt responsible for all of them and letting them out of sight even for a second did not sit right with her.

Lukas sat up straighter from his place against the wall, brushing his hair back with one hand.

"Rosalia and I are going to be right here. We will look after them. I promise."

"But—"

"Valkari," Lukas interrupted gently, his tone softening just enough to convey that he wasn't dismissing her concern, only asking for trust. "When's the last time you took a step outside?"

Valkari opened her mouth again, but when she met his eyes—steady and unwavering—she went quiet.

He suspected she had not been outside for a very...very long time. It'd be good for her to get some fresh air.

A long second of silence passed between them before she finally nodded, setting the dragonling down carefully.

Valkari rose to her feet without another word, but as she started toward the stairs, Lukas spoke again.

"Oh—and make sure Jesse eats something. And get some rest. You're the only one that kid ever really listens to."

Valkari paused, half-turned at the bottom of the stairs.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

"Then I'll make sure he does both, my Lord." She told him with a bow.

With that, Valkari climbed the steps and disappeared above deck, leaving Lukas behind with Rosalia and the dragons, the dim light from the lamps flickering across the room.

Below deck, the air was warm and thick with quiet breath—of dragons, of scaled bodies shifting lazily in rest, of something ancient and still learning how to be free. Rosalia was laughing as she tried to pin a baby wyvern that was still nearly twice her size, all claws and uncoordinated strength. It wriggled under her like an oversized lizard pup, its tail slapping the floor as she wrestled him with a ferocious grin.

Lukas leaned against a wooden beam, arms crossed, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he watched her. There was something so oddly wholesome about the scene—tender and light in a way that Lukas rarely let himself indulge in in the past.

In this moment, Rosalia wasn't a princess, not a wielder of divine magic or some rising star representing the Kingdom of Easthaven.

She was just a girl, laughing and having fun with a creature who logically would have ripped her apart without a second thought.

She was living life to the fullest.

Then—Lukas felt it. He felt it the moment Jesse's magic began to unravel. It was subtle, like a shift in the wind, a faint hum fading from the atmosphere. Lukas closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. The seas, once held firm by Jesse's will, had begun to stir restlessly.

So Lukas answered.

With a thought, he summoned the Divinity of the Seas. He didn't need to raise a hand. He didn't even need to go above deck. The ocean bowed to him with silent obedience, a force of nature responding to one of its own. Currents bent around the hull, winds calmed their howl, and the vessel's speed remained steady as if nothing had changed. No strain. No effort.

Just control.

With his magic now anchoring the ship's safety, Lukas let his back rest against the support beam again, eyes falling shut.

But then—

thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Heavy footsteps, uneven but deliberate, echoed down the stairwell. It was not the footsteps of someone he recognized. Lukas opened one eye, then both. And when he saw who had arrived, he raised an eyebrow.

The Archmage Varian was hunched over slightly, his coat stained with old liquor and sea salt.

A half-empty flask swung loosely in one hand. The other hand braced the wall beside him as Varian descended further into the chamber that was strictly off limits to outsiders.

In fact, he was sure that Velena had stationed some guards to ensure that nobody entered this chamber. How he got here, Lukas had not a clue. More importantly—what would Varian do, now that he was here?

Rosalia hadn't noticed him yet, too busy trying to keep her hair out of her face as the wyvern licked her cheek with a slobbery tongue. Lukas' brows lowered. His shoulders straightened.

The air in the room grew colder, more alert. The Divinity in his blood stirred with quiet intent.

Trying to hide what was inside this room now that Varian had somehow entered it would be simply raise more suspicion. So Lukas decided to watch the Archmage as he finally laid eyes upon the room around him.

The Archmages of the Magic Tower were said to be the pinnacle of what humans could achieve when it came to magic.

Their feats were legendary and their reputation even more so.

But none of that mattered to Lukas Drakos.

If for a second, Varian acted out of line and pose a threat to any living soul in this room; then...

Lukas would kill him without hesitation.