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

It took them a full day without stopping for a second to even reach the giant wall that separated the outer cities from the heart of Nozar. And when they finally did, it was nothing short of a colossus—a black, towering behemoth that rose out of the sea like a god-forged monument, stretching endlessly along the horizon in either direction.

From afar, it had loomed ominously in the distance.

Up close, it seemed to swallow everything; even the skies above. It was perhaps even as tall as some of the skyscrapers that Lukas had seen in his past life. He had to admit that this was more than an impressive sight to behold.

Lukas stood at the bow of the Merchant Guild's ship, arms folded and eyes narrowed as they approached.

The closer they got, the more details came into focus—a fortress within a wall, a city within a barrier.

The wall itself was alive.

Lukas could see hundreds of thousands of Marines, stationed within and across its immense height. Like a military hive, it pulsed with discipline and motion.

On the lower levels, new recruits ran drills and stood at attention as their superiors barked orders at them.

On the middle levels, higher ranked officers conducted operations, commanding squads and managing logistics.

And high above, nearly out of sight, Lukas spotted a handful of figures adorned in armor laced with divine enchantments—comprising of some of the highest-ranking officers of Nozar's legendary Navy. Their ship—alongside a handful of others—drifted slowly toward one of many massive carved tunnels where the river flowed straight through the wall and towards the inner cities of Nozar. Even this passage, meant to welcome visitors, was drenched in defense.

Checkpoints lined the inside of the tunnels—manned with Marines who carried enchanted spears and wore armour marked by the emblem of Oceanus.

A variety of traps lined the walls, mechanical and magical, capable of skewering or sinking any vessel that breached protocol. Lukas even spotted ancient ceiling runes, etched into the rock with the distinct etchings of divine script—incomparable however to the Head Mage's Runes. The most those ancient runes would accomplish was providing light where there was none here within these tunnels.

His eyes moved downward where he found light coming from below as well.

The riverbed glowed with warm light. At first, he thought it might be some sort of magical algae, but no—it was a crystal lattice, magical gems embedded into the riverbed, bathing the waters in constant light.

"Even trying to swim through the tunnel is suicide..." Lukas murmured to himself.

Everything—everything—about this passage was a living monument to the might and power of the strongest Kingdom in Hiraeth.

The strongest naval empire in the world didn't need to make threats. Their strength did the talking for them.

It took nearly two hours of slow drifting, inspection, and clearance through multiple magical barriers before the final checkpoint gave the signal to continue. And then they finally exited the tunnel.

The wall vanished behind them, swallowed by mist and shadow. And the Inner Cities of Nozar emerged before their eyes.

The difference between the two regions of Nozar was like night and day.

The Outer Cities had been cramped, overpopulated and poverty-stricken, home to fishermen and laborers praying out of fear.

But here?

Here, the waters opened wide into gleaming rivers that curved through grand districts of wealth and splendour. Marble buildings towered over the banks, their spires reflecting sunlight. Bridges of gold and stone arched gracefully across the river's edge. Glowing lanterns floated in the air, illuminating the streets below even though the sun was still high in the sky. And the people—dressed in silk, gold, and enchanted fabrics—walked with pride, purpose, and the unshakable belief that they belonged to something greater.

Rosalia leaned against the railing beside Lukas, eyes wide. She whispered in awe, "This doesn't even feel like the same kingdom."

Lukas didn't respond at first. He simply stared at the sight before him. But Rosalia was right. Even the Kingdom of Easthaven which arguably boasted an economy just as strong as Nozar, if not stronger, could not compare to what he was seeing now.

The Inner Cities were vast, sprawling even.

An empire nestled within stone—a garden of luxury and power protected by walls tall enough to touch the skies. There was so much land here, it seemed almost unreal. Unlike the Outer Cities, where buildings had been crammed into narrow stretches of coast and cliffside, the Inner Cities of Nozar was spread out wide and proud across the landscape, with estates large enough to house entire villages.

Manicured gardens, white-stone promenades and luxurious towers of shimmering quartz painted the skyline. Even the air felt different here—cleaner, perfumed by enchanted flora that bloomed out of season.

Every building was constructed with intent—not for survival or mere sustainability, but for prestige.

This was a city where only the rich, the powerful, and the ones fortunate enough to be born into nobility were allowed to tread. Those who lived here weren't simply mere citizens of Nozar. They were the ones who ruled Hiraeth. Even the servants seemed to carry an air of grace and pride about them. And the people of the Inner Cities had made sure to show it.

Rows of ornate ships, gilded with magical embellishments and sigils of different noble houses, filled the private docks lining the central river. These weren't merchant ships—they were floating palaces, owned by the nobles and aristocrats who had sailed here for one reason alone:

The Celebration of the Great War's End.

It was here—amidst gold and ivory, glittering gowns and divine emblems—that Lukas finally saw them.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

The dragons.

Rosalia was the first to gasp.

They were being marched.

Marched through the streets of Nozar, dozens of Linemall's people—wyverns, dragons and even a few barely recognizable Dragon Born—were paraded down the avenues. All of them chained, shacked and broken. Their scales were cracked and dull, their wings folded unnaturally against their sides.

Some had their horns sawed down to nubs. Others were adorned with ceremonial armor that did not honor them—but humiliated them.

They were trophies that had given up their right to call themselves living beings. And behind them walked their captors—handlers dressed in ceremonial blue, carrying spears laced with enchantments designed to subdue even the strongest of dragons.

Whips cracked and their chains rattled yet none of the dragons roared out in protest. They didn't even resist. They walked like ghosts of their former selves, as though their spirits had already been left behind a long time ago.

Lukas' fists clenched. His breath caught in his throat.

Jesse, standing beside him, muttered softly, "Fuckin' hell."

Rosalia's hands were over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.

Velena didn't say a word. Her eyes grim but not surprised. This was not the first the Countess had seen a sight like this. The old woman knew the reality of Hiraeth and the cruelty of it all.

This was Nozar's pride. These dragons, Lukas' PEOPLE were props—symbols of their ancestors' "victory." Chained beasts wheeled in for nobles to pat, prod, and remind the world that humanity had conquered the ancient race once believed to be untouchable.

Lukas turned, feeling a presence behind him.

It was Valkari Ishtar. She had come above deck. She hadn't come up since they'd entered the Outer Cities, but now she stood at the rail, looking over the side, watching the march. Her expression seemed neutral and composed. But it was her eyes that made Lukas watch her carefully.

They were filled with cold fury.

Valkari simply continued to stare at the sight, unmoving, at every whip that landed on scaled skin. Every chain link that dragged across stone. Every cage being rolled out of the ships anchored beside them—cages that reeked of dried blood, dragon piss and fear.

Lukas made a mental note to himself to keep an eye on her. Valkari was not someone to be left unsupervised in the inner cities. Not when dragons were being paraded like livestock and certainly not when her rage sat so close to the surface.

As they stepped off the ship and onto the pristine docks of Nozar's inner cities, a sea of uniforms greeted them—not common soldiers, but high-ranking marines, decorated, disciplined, and proud. Their uniforms were pressed to perfection, their boots polished until the sun hit them like steel.

In their eyes, Lukas could see it: True loyalty.

These men and women didn't bend the knee to King Daerion out of fear.

They respected him.

For all the faults Lukas could name—and there were many—he could never say that King Daerion was a coward. The former prince, now king, had bled beside his soldiers since before his coming of age ceremony. Even after his coronation, Daerion had continued to march alongside hem, fighting with them through the deadliest of battles, and mourned their loss. And for that, those gathered before them all would follow King Daerion into the deepest crevices of the Underworld.

They looked towards Daerion like how Jesse looked up to Lukas.

The King stood tall as the crowd saluted him with clenched fists across their chests. Then, he raised a hand and motioned for his guests to come forward.

"This," he announced to the crowd, his voice cutting across the docks like steel through cloth, "is the Countess Velena Ilagron, Head of the Merchant Guild. And beside her, Princess Rosalia Elarion of Easthaven. You will treat them as you would treat me. With respect. With dignity. And with protection."

A resounding "Yes, Your Majesty!" echoed across the ranks like thunder.

Then, the King turned slightly, his tone shifting from one of royalty to one of the a fellow soldier.

The men seemed to truly relax around him as they began to mingle among one another; seeing as the King had finished addressing them.

King Daerion beckoned for the Countess and the Princess to follow him.

"I'd like to introduce you to some of my most trusted men." He told them, reaching to grab one of the men who seemed to have been standing at the front of the crowd.

Lukas didn't really have the chance to take a good look at any of the men who stood to greet the King of Nozar but now he did.

The man who the King had pulled aside was tall—not just in height, but in presence. He wasn't as tall as Daerion or Lukas but he was certainly not a small man.

His blonde hair was wild yet sculpted, a crown of jagged lightning that seemed to pulse with life. His green eyes were sharp and alive, glowing almost unnaturally with both discipline and ferocity. A gruesome scar curled across the right side of his forehead, extending past his eye like a mark of survival rather than shame. He wore the combat armor of Nozar's elite, trimmed with gold, and his presence radiated authority, precision, and pure volatile force—like a tempest in human form.

His name was spoken with pride by Daerion: "This is the man they call the Stormbringer of Nozar, one of the Three Admirals of the Nozari Navy."

Lukas felt a shiver run through him—not out of fear, but recognition.

There was something eerily familiar about the man. Something that danced on the edges of his memory.

First, the man bowed respectfully towards Velena; as he should to any member of nobility. Then the man turned to face Rosalia and the second his eyes landed on her, the stiff, disciplined mask of a military commander cracked.

"Rosalia?" he whispered.

Rosalia didn't hesitate. She surged forward, throwing her arms around him in a hug that was tight and desperate and full of everything she had been holding in.

"Uncle Maelis!" she cried.

The Admiral laughed, a real, hearty laugh—not one of courtly politeness, but one born of joy, as he lifted her off the ground effortlessly and spun her once before setting her back down.

"Gods of Hiraeth, I had no idea that...that you'd even come," Maelis murmured, brushing a hand through her hair. "You've grown so much, my little Rose."

Lukas watched them quietly, smiling. And now he understood why the man had seemed so familiar.

Maelis looked like a splitting image of his father. In fact, he looked exactly like what Lukas imagined Magnus would've been in his youth. Wild with power. Stern in command. But still capable of love. The Admiral Maelis Elarion, Rosalia's Uncle and Magnus' forgotten son.

Lukas let Rosalia and her uncle have their moment.

It seemed like Magnus' son had done well for himself, even after making the hard decision of leaving the Elarion Royal Family; seeing as he climbed the ranks to become one of the Three Admirals of Nozar. Just as Lukas began to get caught up in his own thoughts, a voice interrupts his train of thought.

"Klein?"

He froze. The voice was sharp. But it was familiar.

It was a voice that Lukas had heard before.

Slowly, Lukas turned toward the woman of whom the voice belonged to—and there she stood: Anriette Vale, the Vice Admiral of Nozar.