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

The next morning, Lukas awoke to find a pendant lying on his chest. It was a small thing—a golden pendant strung on a fine chain, cool against his palm, glinting softly in the morning light. Inscribed upon its face was the crest of the Elarion royal family: a soaring falcon crowned by a ring of stars.

It was, the King had said upon the note that had been left with the pendant, a mark of trust and a symbol to represent the oath sworn that night.

It meant Lukas no longer had to skulk in closets and shadowed halls. He no longer had to hide from those who lived within these walls, neither did he have to answer any of their questions. When worn in the open, this pendant granted him near-unquestioned freedom across the city, a privilege granted to proper guests of the Elarion Royal Family.

He made a mental note to thank the old man when he saw him again. Rosalia had been positively thrilled when she saw it dangling from his neck.

"Come on, come on! You've got to see everything now!" The princess squealed with excitement and began to drag him through the castle's polished corridors with infectious excitement, determined to show him every corner of her home.

The Castle of Easthaven sat atop a high bluff, carved into the mountain's edge like a fortress carved by the sea winds themselves. But unlike Nozar's grim stone walls and Khaitish's iron towers, Easthaven's halls gleamed—smooth white marble laced with veins of gold and silver, where great windows poured sunlight into grand galleries adorned with hanging gardens.

Here, the air was scented with fresh lilies and parchment, and music often drifted through the colonnades, the gentle sound of violins, harps, and young scholars practicing their compositions.

It was a place of learning, of invention, of progress. Not a battlefield, Lukas realized, but a workshop. A library. A forge of ideas.

The people were well-fed, well-dressed, their smiles genuine as they passed by. Even the common folk within the inner city wore fabrics dyed in soft colours, their faces free of the hollow-eyed exhaustion Lukas had seen so often in other kingdoms. Children ran freely through the markets, artisans hawked their wares beneath vibrant banners, and the scent of spiced bread filled the air at every corner.

"This is different from all that I have seen before," Lukas admitted quietly as they passed through the sunlit courtyards.

"Well, Easthaven is the greatest place on Hiraeth after all," Rosalia chirped, skipping a few steps ahead.

But she was not blind to the shadows that lurked beneath the kingdom's beauty. When they descended to the docks, the mood shifted.

The ports were bustling, but they weren't thriving. The change was jarring. It was as if Lukas had been transported back to Ilagron Village in the blink of an eye. Too many ships sat idle, their sails furled, their cargo holds too light. The harbour masters barked orders, but their frustration was palpable. Fishermen shook their heads, merchants haggled bitterly, and the smell of salt hung heavier here; sharp, cold, as if the sea itself had soured.

"Grandpa says trade hasn't been good," Rosalia explained, her voice quieter now, tinged with something Lukas hadn't heard from her before—worry. "The storms have been...bad. Ships sink. Even though the Leviathan is gone…" She scuffed her boot against the wooden planks of the dock. "It's like the seas are angry."

Lukas looked out over the churning waters, his gaze darkening. Was Rosalia right? Was Oceanus angry?

"The Leviathan. They say he has been defeated?" he asked carefully. Even though he knew Rodan lived within the Crest, it did not hurt any less to remember what had become of him during their battle with the Hero From Another World.

"Nozar has announced that the Leviathan will terrorize the seas no longer," she said with a nod. "But grandfather says that he was never really the problem. The weather has been getting worse with each passing year, many think it's Oceanus' way of telling us that he is not pleased with us. Thousands of men flock to the Church everyday to beg for his forgiveness."

Lukas didn't say a word. He did not tell her that the seas were far more sentient than men realized. He did not tell her that he might have to one day face this god of the seas they worshipped, if it meant he ensuring his people's safety.

Even the Leviathan's death had not satisfied the being who lay dormant beneath the waves. But this was something that Lukas did not want to think about, not today.

Instead, he laid a hand gently on Rosalia's head, ruffling her hair. "Let's keep exploring, shall we?"

She beamed, dragging him toward the next street.

They spent the day wandering through the sky bridges, where glass tunnels arched over the city streets, connecting research towers where mages worked side by side with engineers, crafting strange, wonderful things: glowing lanterns that never burned out, enchanted elevators, and sprawling water systems that stretched across the city like veins of silver.

Here, innovation was the kingdom's greatest weapon. Not swords. Not shields. But Knowledge.

Lukas had always thought of the humans of Hiraeth as warmongers. But here…they built. They dreamed. They created a better life for all future generations of humanity.

It was at the city's heart that Lukas finally saw it.

The Magic Tower.

It rose like a spear through the clouds, impossibly tall, dwarfing every other structure around it. The research towers that once seemed so grand now clung to its shadow like saplings beneath an ancient tree.

Lukas craned his neck, following its ascent until his vision blurred and the top vanished into the low-hanging mist. No building on Earth had ever matched this. No skyscraper, no palace, no monument. It wasn't just tall—it was limitless, as if it defied the very laws of space and physics.

"How…how have I not seen this before?" Lukas murmured, stepping forward slowly, his voice almost carried away by the coastal wind.

Rosalia giggled beside him. "It's enchanted. The Tower doesn't reveal itself to everyone right away. Especially to guests." She rocked on her heels, her hands clasped behind her back. "But now it's letting you see it. It means it's acknowledged you."

"The Tower acknowledged me?"

She nodded, bright-eyed. "The Tower is not just a building. It's...alive. Or at least, that's what the Archmages say. I have to ask them since grandpa never wants to answer any of my questions." She gestured toward the wide steps leading to its grand double doors—doors tall enough for a giant to walk through without bowing his head. "This is Easthaven's pride and joy. Welcome to anybody bold enough to climb the Tower."

Lukas studied the entrance. There were no guards. No barriers. No lines of noble-born elites waiting to enter.

Just people. Commoners. Scholars. Students. Wanderers.

The Tower did not belong to the nobles. It did not belong to the Royal Family. It did not belong to the rich and famous. It belonged to those who dared. Dared to see what they were truly made of.

"Anyone?" Lukas asked quietly.

"Anyone," Rosalia confirmed. "It doesn't matter where you're from. It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor. If you can make it through the entrance and past the first trial, you earn the right to climb."

She swept her hand upward toward the spiralling heights.

"Each level tests your strength, your magic, your mind. The higher you go, the more knowledge you unlock. The more power you gain. But…most people don't get very far. A lot of people don't even make it past the first. Fewer reach the third. The fifth is usually where even the most gifted get stuck. Past that…" Rosalia lowered her voice, glancing around as if the Tower itself might overhear. "The ones who've reached the higher levels…they're the legends of Easthaven. The Archmages. The ones who shape the world. The ones who pave the path for the future of Hiraeth."

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Lukas glanced at her. "How far have you made it?"

Her cheeks puffed in indignation. "I don't want to be a mage! I have other dreams, you know! Not everybody wants to learn how to do magic! I want to be a Divine Knight!"

Lukas laughed, raising his hands up in surrender. He had no idea what a Divine Knight was but she seemed pretty damn set on becoming one.

His gaze returned to the Tower, a quiet pulse of curiosity stirring in his chest.

Rosalia tugged on his sleeve. "Hey. Maybe one day you can climb it, too. I bet you'd make it past the fifth."

Lukas smiled faintly. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Because you're the strangest, strongest person I know!" she shouted with complete certainty.

Suddenly Lukas stilled, his instincts humming, the weight of another's presence pressing down on him before she even spoke.

The woman who walked towards them wore polished silver armour traced with delicate lines of sapphire, the light catching on the metal's surface as though it were woven from starlight itself. Every plate, every joint was masterfully crafted, not just for protection, but as a statement. Her hair was midnight black, falling in loose waves to her shoulders, and her eyes—cold, glacial blue—seemed to pierce through him in a single glance. Her skin was pale, porcelain smooth, unmarred by time or blemish.

She was also tall. Almost as tall as Lukas was in his humanoid form—something that he had rarely encountered, even among men. But her frame was not delicate or petite, nor did she carry the dainty refinement of nobility.

She was powerful, built with the lean, disciplined muscle of a warrior, her shoulders broad and her stance perfectly balanced.

At her side, a sword rested in its scabbard—its craftsmanship so precise, Lukas could feel the hum of contained power even from here. And at the center of her breastplate, set like a crown jewel, was a glimmering blue crystal.

His chest tightened. There was strength here—not the simple competence of a seasoned fighter, not the crude brute force of the average commander. No, this woman was dangerous.

Lukas realized with a cold twist in his gut that as he was now…he wasn't sure he could beat her. His injuries still weren't quite fully healed and he was nowhere near close to the level of strength he had been able to reach in Kairos Castle. He didn't think he would lose. But winning would not come without a cost.

Rosalia stepped forward quickly, bowing low in respect.

"Master," she greeted the armor-clad woman, her voice softer, more formal now.

That just Lukas even more curious about who this woman was, one who even royalty bowed to.

The woman lifted her chin, her expression unreadable, though the faintest curve of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Rosalia," She said, her voice rich and steady, each word laced with quiet authority. "This is why you asked a day of rest from your training?"

Her eyes slid to Lukas, sharp and curious. "Care to introduce this man to me? I would like to know who it is that you call the strongest person you know."

Her gaze settled on him with deliberate weight. It wasn't aggressive, but it was certainly a test—an unspoken challenge to see whether he would falter.

Lukas offered a polite nod but did not avert his eyes. "Klein," he said before Rosalia could answer for him.

"Klein, huh. My name is Celina, Divine Knight of the Church. I had always assumed that I was the strongest person Rosalia knew."

So this was what a Divine Knight was. What Rosalia wanted to become.

The princess flushed red, waving her hands when she realized Celina had overheard their conversation. "You're both strong! I didn't mean— I just—"

Celina chuckled softly, waving off the apology for all of her attention was on him now. "It's quite alright Rosalia."

Her eyes flicked back to Lukas, this time slower, more analytical—the way a warrior measured another warrior. She studied the way he stood, the way his muscles tensed, the subtle shift in his breathing.

"You don't wear armour," Celina noted, almost musing to herself. "And you carry yourself like someone who doesn't need it."

Lukas smiled faintly. "I get by. I'm a bounty hunter."

Klein the Bounty Hunter. He had decided to stick with the persona he had created when on board the fleets of Nozar. He figured he might as well; the less this Celina knew about him, the better.

Lukas felt it the moment her expression changed—as if a hidden switch had been flipped inside her. The casual curiosity, the playful edge in her voice; all of it vanished like smoke in the wind.

Celina's gaze sharpened, her entire posture tightening like a string pulled taut.

"You know," she spoke slowly, her voice dropping into a more serious register, "it's strange."

Her fingers drummed once against the hilt of her sword, and Rosalia immediately stiffened.

All of Lukas' instincts screamed at him but he remained still. He needed to remain calm.

"A man with strength like yours, wandering around Easthaven." Her blue eyes narrowed. "But the thing is I've never heard of you. Never seen you on any of the hunter registries. And yet…" Her stare dropped to the pendant resting against Lukas' chest.

Clang.

The sound was razor-sharp, the wind hissing as her blade shot from its sheath. In the blink of an eye, the tip of her sword now aimed at the pendant resting against his collarbone, its sharp edge glinting dangerously close to his neck. Her speed was staggering. Still, Lukas fought every urge in his body telling him to protect himself.

"Yet you wear the Seal of the Elarion Royal Family around your neck."

Lukas didn't move. His heartbeat was steady. His breathing calm.

"You say you are a bounty hunter. I don't believe that is the case." she echoed coldly. Her grip was relaxed, but her killing intent pressed against him like the deep ocean's weight. "Tell me, in what world would a bounty hunter of no renown be in possession of the Elarion Family's ceremonial seal?"

Lukas felt Rosalia freeze beside him, her mouth half-open as if she wanted to interject but didn't dare. He glanced down briefly at the blade's point and then back at Celina's eyes. Her sword pressed forward, just enough to kiss the surface of the pendant.

Her eyes didn't waver.

"You're lying." Celina declared.

She did not even give Lukas a chance to explain himself. Her words weren't a guess—they were a verdict.

A fight between them could break out here in the middle of the docks, and it wouldn't be a gentle exchange of blows. If she chose to press forward, he'd be forced to reveal far more than he wanted. And Lukas wasn't sure if he could hold back, not if he wanted to risk losing another limb or two.

But then, a voice cut cleanly through the standoff.

"That's enough, Celina."

The command was quiet, but it rippled through the air like a thunderclap. Both of them turned as the old man emerged from the entrance of the Magic Tower, his long robes trailing behind him as if the wind bent to his pace. His face was calm, but there was steel in his gaze.

"He is not just a bounty hunter," the king said, his voice steady. "He is my apprentice."

Celina's eyes flicked between the old man and Lukas, a flash of surprise—then disbelief—crossing her features.

"…Your apprentice?" she repeated slowly, as if the words didn't quite make sense.

Lukas blinked, caught off-guard by the old man's declaration.

Apprentice? What kind of King needed an apprentice? But he didn't say a word. Speaking now would only blow whatever cover the old man was so graciously weaving for him.

Celina's gaze lingered on him for a long moment, her blade still perfectly still against the pendant resting on his chest.

Then, slowly, she pulled it back and slid it cleanly into its sheath.

"I see," she said, voice calm but tight around the edges. "If the Head Mage claims you as his apprentice…then I've overstepped my bounds. I apologize for jumping to conclusions."

Her eyes, however, told another story entirely. Suspicion still burned there, cold and unshaken.

Lukas met her gaze evenly, saying nothing. He simply nodded once, letting the silence stretch.

Then she turned to leave. This wasn't the last time he would see her. That much was clear. Celina still did not trust him. But she could not act on her suspicions, not now before the King of Easthaven and not before the people who were starting to gather around them.

But Lukas' attention had already been diverted to another. It took him a few more moments to really understand what had just transpired but now it became clear to him. A crowd outside the Magic Tower had now formed, all of them staring. Staring not at Celina. Not at Lukas. But at the old man himself.

Magnus Elarion was truly the rightful King of Easthaven, no doubt about it. But that was not the only title he bore.

For the old man who now stood before Lukas was also the Head Mage of the Magic Tower, the very man who had built the Tower from the ground up. And also the only man to ever reach the Top Floor...

The most powerful Mage in the history of Hiraeth's Humanity.