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

The prince was no longer draped in the silks of nobility or the silver armour he once wore disguised as Rennard Cain, Captain of the Royal Guard. His linen tunic was loose, its hems fraying, and his boots had long since lost the gleam of polish. Yet somehow, Darren stood taller than Lukas remembered—his steps lighter, freer, even as the wind bit at his skin.

At first, Rosalia had found it strange that this man knew Lukas' true name but once she saw Lukas' smile, she knew that they were in good company.

Darren had proceeded to invite Lukas and Rosalia to eat at their house. While Lukas wasn't too sure of whether or not they should intrude, Rosalia immediately accepted the offer without a second of hesitation. That was why they now found themselves along the sandy shores of Nozar, heading towards Darren's humble abode.

The coast stretched out beside them, the last edge of Nozar before the waters swallowed the horizon. It was quiet here, far from the chanting and clamor of the crowds. The waves lapped against stone, a rhythm unbothered by gods or kings. Darren laughed as his daughter—little Andrea—sat perched on his shoulders, tugging gently at his hair with the determined glee of a child who knew her father would never scold her.

"You look like a sea beast," Andrea giggled, curling his hair into crooked horns.

"Well then," Darren grinned, "maybe I'll grow fins next. And then I'll eat you up in one big bite!"

Andrea shrieked before dissolving into a fit of giggles as she leapt off of Darren's shoulders. She seemed to be quite the wild child but Darren seemed used to it.

In fact, Darren seemed to love it more than anything in the world.

Rosalia, charmed and unbothered, walked ahead with Andrea as she hopped down and grabbed onto Rosalia's hand, bombarding the young princess with an endless stream of questions: "Is Easthaven as warm as they say? What's it like to be a real princess? Do princesses get to eat cake every day?"

Rosalia answered every question with a smile and a story, even if some of them were exaggerated just to keep the little girl grinning from ear to ear.

Darren Ittriki was not a bastard like Soren. He was a true member of Royalty, a son of King Daerion and an official prince of Nozar.

Yet Darren's daughter knew nothing of it what it was like to be royalty despite her father being the Youngest Son of Nozar.

Lukas stayed back with Darren, letting the two girls talk in peace. He watched them for a while before finally speaking. He remembered what his older brother had said about the mother of Darren's child. That she was a commoner, not born of nobility, just a girl from Ilagron Village that the prince had fallen in love with.

Eventually, Lukas asked, "Do you plan to meet your father while he's here?"

Darren barked a laugh, short and sharp like a wave crashing into rock. He shook his head, no hesitation.

"If he wants to see me, he knows where to find me. I meant what I said, Lukas. Last time we spoke, I told you—I have no use for the throne. I meant it then. And I still mean it now. I have no plans on becoming King."

Lukas nodded, smiling. The sea breeze tousling their hair, the cries of gulls overhead blending into the crashing waves.

Then Lukas saw her.

A woman stood in the distance, just outside the gates of a modest cottage built from dark-stained wood, a garden of herbs and flowers curling around its fence. She wore simple robes, her hair tied back, and yet there was a quiet strength to the way she stood.

She raised a hand and waved toward them. And Darren's face lit up.

What Lukas saw was not the polite smile of a prince, not the calculated charm of a nobleman. But a smile so full, so open, it made Lukas slow his steps.

He looked at Darren again—and this time, he saw not the youngest prince of Nozar, not a warrior hardened by countless battles or a prince running from duty.

He saw a man who had chosen love over power—and never once regretted it.

"You really do love her," Lukas whispered softly.

Darren nodded, the smile still on his lips. "I do. More than anything in the world."

Lukas said nothing. But the respect in his eyes was louder than any words he could offer.

He watched as Andrea ran ahead, her feet slapping against the worn stone path, and then launched herself into her mother's waiting arms. Her shriek of delight echoed along the coastline, followed by a chorus of laughter as Darren swept in behind her, wrapping them both into an embrace. He shrugged at Lukas over his shoulder with a boyish grin, like a man who had shed a thousand burdens and never planned to carry them again.

This was the only burden Darren needed and it was a burden that he to carry for the rest of his days.

The burden of being a father. The burden of being a husband. A burden that Lukas one day hoped to carry himself.

Lukas couldn't help but smile faintly, his fingers curling around the bottle of ink in his coat pocket. The cold glass grounded him, it anchored him—a reminder of purpose, of memory, of the promises he still carried. He stood quietly, letting the warmth of that little family soak into the sea air around them.

It was such a simple sight, yet something about it carved deeper than expected.

Rosalia stood beside him, just a few paces behind.

The princess had stopped as well, her eyes locked on the scene before her. Her shoulders were stiff at first, like she was trying to maintain her posture, trying not to let the ache inside leak into the expression she wore.

But Lukas knew that look.

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It was a look he had worn too many times in his past life—standing outside windows on winter nights, watching other people gathered around dinner tables and fireplaces, laughing about things that didn't matter, together in ways he had never been.

That aching, distant smile that always gave way to a hollow kind of silence.

Lukas stepped toward her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

She flinched—not from fear, but surprise—and turned to meet his gaze.

The look in her eyes said more than she ever would aloud. There was no tantrum, no dramatic breakdown, just quiet understanding. Grief layered beneath admiration, longing beneath warmth.

And in those soft, wet eyes, Lukas saw a child trying very hard to hold herself together.

Rosalia had always tried to put on a brave smile, to remain as happy as she possibly could be. It was one of the things that Lukas loved about her. But he also knew that Rosalia needed to learn that she didn't always have to put on a smile for the world to see.

The princess stepped forward and hugged him—small arms wrapping around his middle, burying her face into his chest as he knelt to return her embrace. Lukas smiled softly, resting his hand atop her head as her body trembled ever so slightly.

She sniffled. "Sorry."

"For what?" he asked, his voice low.

"I-I don't know." Rosalia murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"And you don't have to know. Because there's nothing to be sorry about, little one."

Rosalia nodded, pressing her forehead into him, the tears falling now but without shame. She knew that Lukas wasn't going anywhere. And Lukas…he held her just a bit tighter. In some quiet part of him, he thought about the child he once was. How he had longed for someone to hold him like this. To tell him it was okay to be weak. That he wasn't alone.

Lukas had never gotten that—not in that other life. But in this life, he could be that someone for Rosalia Elarion.

Lukas pulled away just for a moment, long enough to meet her eyes.

"You're not alone, Rosalia," he whispered gently. "You and me. We're family. You got that? I love you, Rosalia. And I always will, little one."

She wiped her cheeks, sniffling again, but this time she smiled—small, shy, but still sincere.

"Love you too, you big oaf," she whispered.

They turned toward the house again. Darren's daughter had already dragged Rosalia's cloak inside, mistaking it for a royal cape. Darren was lifting his wife into a spin, laughter spilling from their doorstep like sunlight.

Lukas rested a hand on Rosalia's back and nudged her gently forward.

"Come on," he told her. "Let's have dinner."

That night that followed was one of rare peace.

The soft glow of lanterns flickered within Darren's modest home, casting golden halos on the wooden walls as laughter spilled from the kitchen. The house was small—far smaller than the palatial halls Darren once called home—but not once did he speak of what he'd lost. Only of what he had now and what he had was a life full of love.

Darren's wife Aurelia, named after the first Queen of Ilagron, was a force of nature in her own right. She had every single one of them chopping, stirring, or setting the table—no exceptions made for dragons or royalty.

Lukas had been put in charge of cutting vegetables, and when he fumbled the knife at one point, Aurelia smacked his wrist with a wooden spoon and told him to do it properly or not at all.

He liked her immediately.

The meal itself was simple: grilled fish seasoned with wild herbs, warm flatbread, sweet yams, and a tangy fruit salad Andrea had helped mix. But somehow, it tasted better than anything Lukas had eaten in a long while. Maybe it was the salt in the sea breeze, maybe it was the warmth in the laughter around him. Or maybe it was simply because he hadn't felt this…full in a long time.

It reminded him of the meals he'd had with Styx. Not just of good food. But of heart.

Later that night, with their stomachs full and the girls busy sculpting towers in the sand, Lukas and Darren sat on the shoreline, listening to the distant cries of gulls and the rhythmic whisper of waves brushing the coast.

Rosalia and Andrea were building castles and moats under the moonlight, Aurelia coaching them like a seasoned architect with hands on her hips.

Darren chuckled, watching them for a moment before finally asking, "Did you ever find him? Your brother."

The question came quiet and cautious.

Lukas inhaled sharply. His eyes didn't leave the waves.

"…I did," he replied at last, his voice even. "He's in a better place now."

That was all Lukas had to say. And it was enough.

Darren nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry."

Why in the world was everybody apologizing to him today, Lukas would never know.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Lukas murmured, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "He lives on through me. Always will."

For a while, they said nothing; the waves doing the talking for them.

Then Lukas shifted slightly, his fingers sifting through the sand. "You were away from for a while, weren't you? From your wife. And from your daughter."

Darren leaned back on his elbows, his gaze distant. "Longer than I ever wished to be away from them," he said. "Years, actually."

Lukas looked over at him. "How did you handle…being apart from them?"

"I knew what I was fighting for," Darren answered. "Even when I couldn't see them…I remembered the sound of Aurelia's laugh. The way my daughter would sneak into my bed when she had nightmares. The little things. That's what kept me going. Because I knew—one day—I'd see them again."

The youngest son of Nozar paused.

"And that's all you need sometimes," Darren continued softly. "Just take it one day at a time. One day closer to seeing them again."

Lukas was quiet for a long moment, his jaw clenched ever so slightly, as though bracing against the storm of emotions threatening to rise. But Darren didn't press him instead simply letting the moment sit between them.

Then a tug at his sleeve pulled him from the stillness.

"Daddy!" Andrea squealed. "You promised you'd help me make the biggest castle ever!"

Darren grinned, rising with a groan exaggerated for her amusement. "Alright, alright," he said, brushing the sand from his tunic. "Time to build a fortress worthy of a Queen."

As he ran off, Lukas watched the three of them disappear into giggles and warm night air.

Rosalia glanced over her shoulder at him and waved him over, but he simply smiled and shook his head.

He sat there alone for a while longer, staring at the moonlit ocean.

"One day," he whispered to himself.

One day, Lukas would see her again.

One day, Lukas would have Styx in his arms again. Her head nestled beneath his chin. Her breath against his skin.

One day, they would have a home like this.

A home full of love and laughter. A life that was quiet, soft and whole.

Lukas reached into his coat, fingers brushing the ink bottle again.

One day, he'd have it all. And when that day did come...there was nothing else Lukas Drakos would want in the world.