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

The halls of the royal palace were wide, their marble floors polished to a shine that caught the flicker of every passing flame. Lukas followed a step behind the old man, who walked without hurry, his wooden staff tapping rhythmically with each step.

The old man had made it clear to hold off with the questions until they were alone. So Lukas waited, biting them back one by one as guards, servants, and wandering nobles passed them in the corridors.

Their pace never slowed, but their conversation never left the safety of the Crown.

Lukas used the Legacy to establish a connection to between the two, allowing them to communicate through their thoughts.

"Your pendant will shield you from suspicion, but it won't stop Celina from digging," the old man said to Lukas within his mind. "Divine Knights have that right after all. For they wield the authority of the Church."

Lukas didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swept his gaze across the towering bookshelves and intricate stained-glass murals of the palace.

"The Divine Knights, tell me more about them."

Magnus chuckled, though there was little humor in it.

"After the Great War, the Church's influence spread like wildfire. Nozar, Easthaven and Khaitish…they all bent the knee. The Church unified them. Gave them one god to follow. Gave them one fear to hold onto. How could they refuse the religion that had sent humanity the very Hero who turned the tides of war against the dragons?" Lukas wasn't too surprised. Oceanus had been the only reason his father had been summoned to Hiraeth and from humanity's perspective, he was quite literally their saving grace.

"And the Divine Knights?"

"After the Hero put down his blade, the Church realized they needed more just like him," the old man stated flatly. "They call them the Divine Knights for they are holy warriors chosen by Oceanus, or so they claim. In truth, they are simply weapons that help them control their influence over the Kingdoms of Humanity."

Lukas frowned but decided against informing the King that the Hero From Another World certainly hadn't put his blade down for good.

"Divine Knights usually come in pairs. Celina had one. Her master. But he's dead now." Lukas caught a hint of sadness behind the thought, as if perhaps he knew Celina's master before his passing.

"What happened to him?"

"The Leviathan killed him five years ago. After defeating one of the Admirals of Nozar, they sent a Divine Knight after him. Yet even he fell to the pirate's strength."

That pulled Lukas to a halt for half a second. Rodan was a fucking monster. He had just ended up meeting someone even more monstrous.

He kept this thought to himself despite the connection between them.

"That is why the Church is now searching for another. To find Celina a new partner. She's been without one ever since."

Lukas exhaled through his nose, the weight of it all settling on his shoulders. "Are Divine Knights usually as young as Celina?"

"She is by far the youngest in Hiraeth's history. And Rosalia? She asked Celina to train her years ago. Celina has been training my granddaughter for as long as I can remember. Rosalia looks up to Celina. She wants to be just like her. Celina...she is not a bad person, Lukas. As hostile as she is, she is a Knight of true Honour."

Lukas had no doubt that she took great pride in her role as the Church's sword but that did not change the fact that she had been ready to cut him down as if she were judge, jury and executioner. That sort of morality did not sit right with him.

"So basically, the Hero From Another World. He was the inspiration for these Divine Knights?" He asked, brushing the old man's last statement to the side for the time being.

"Exactly. Many people of Hiraeth think the Hero was the very first Divine Knight. What makes him special is that he was summoned from another world. Hence the name. They've made songs about him, statues, passed down myths. Since his passing, they needed new heroes to rise to the occassion. Which is why we now have the Divine Knights of the Church."

"He's not dead. The Hero, I mean." Lukas looked Magnus right in the eyes when he spoke these words through the connection. He couldn't help it. The King was talking about him as if he had long past, an ancient warrior who no longer walked the face of this world.

"You sound sure of that." Magnus remarked after a long second of silence.

"I am." Lukas' inner voice hardened. "Who do you think put down the Leviathan?"

This time Lukas could not hide his emotions and the old man paused, his steps slowing just a bit as he caught onto the burst of spite that rose within the connection.

"You knew the Leviathan." Magnus did not send this thought through the connection like it had been a question. He had come to the conclusion on his own. And Lukas saw no reason why he should lie to the old man.

"Yes. Rodan...was my brother."

"Ah. So the Leviathan was another of the draconic kind. That would explain his strength. I...am sorry for your loss, Lukas." His empathy was genuine, that much Lukas could appreciate.

"He lives on within me, Magnus. There is no need to be sorry."

The old man didn't press the issue further even despite the pulse of curiosity Lukas felt coming from the old man through their Crown link.

Instead, Magnus simply turned a corner and pushed open the tall oak doors to his private study.

The doors shut behind them with a soft click, finally sealing the world out.

The room was vast, walls lined with tomes so ancient their spines had begun to fade into nothing. Papers, scrolls, half-drunk cups of tea, and magical apparatus cluttered the desk. Strange artifacts hummed with quiet energy on the shelves. Lukas noticed a variety of crystals strewn across his desk.

The old man lowered himself into a high-backed chair with a grunt, motioning for Lukas to take the seat across from him.

"Go ahead. This room has been sealed off to the outside world. You don't know who might be listening out there, my boy. We may talk freely now."

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Lukas folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Very well, then. I will to cut to the chase. Be honest with me. There were other ways to avoid Celina's suspicion, no?"

"There were." The old man agreed with a nod, a twinkle in his eyes now.

"Yet you chose to announce, very publicly might I add, that you had chosen me as your apprentice. Why do go to such lengths?" Lukas finally asked because he knew the old man, in truth, a cunning bastard.

The old man smiled thinly. "Because I need you, Lukas."

"Need me to do what?"

Magnus didn't answer his question. Instead, he reached across the desk and picked up the small crystal resting atop a pile of parchment. It shimmered faintly in his palm, catching the golden light of the nearby sconces.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, turning it over between his fingers.

The answer clearly was no but he decided to play along. Lukas shook his head, remaining silent to see where the old man was going with this.

"This was the first thing I ever made. My first creation." The old man's voice softened, almost wistful. "A crystal that could take the thoughts that flow in your mind and make them loud enough for thousands to hear. I built it when I was still a boy, fascinated by magic and what it could become. I thought, if I could give everyone a voice, maybe it would make the world a little more fair."

Lukas could not help but smile. It had become more than just a thought over the years.

"I spent my whole life chasing that dream," Magnus went on. "I founded what Hiraeth now knows as the Magic Tower. Not as a fortress, not as a gate to power, but as a place where anyone—commoner or noble—could learn, could build, could create something for the good of humanity. I gave everything I had to that dream. It worked. It became the forefront of innovation."

His thumb ran over the edge of the crystal.

"Then my daughter died. Her husband too. I lost them to...a carriage accident. And with all the knowledge that I'd spent my whole life trying to collate and understand and decipher, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing I could do to save them."

Silence lingered, heavy in the space between them.

"I grieved. I let the Church in because, at the time, they were our greatest supporters. I thought they meant well. They funded our research. They promised to protect the Tower. And while I buried myself in sorrow…they grew. Their influence seeped into every stone, every scroll, and every crevice."

He set the crystal down gently, his hand lingering over it.

"Now, the Tower is theirs. The Council is filled with Archmages loyal to the Church of Oceanus. They decide who climbs, who falls. It has become an institution of privilege, not purpose. A gatekeeper of power, not a sanctuary of knowledge. The very thing I swore it would never be."

Lukas narrowed his eyes. "And you want me to help you."

"Yes, Lukas. I do. Because I can't fix it alone," Magnus said with a sad smile. "I am a powerful mage, yes. But I am old. I will turn one hundred and thirty-seven next year. Time is catching up to me and I am afraid I cannot outrun it forever. My body is failing me, and the Church knows it. They are waiting for me to die so they can seize the last parts of the Tower that I still control. They will descend like vultures, Lukas. And I cannot let that happen."

His gaze hardened, locking onto Lukas.

"You are a dragon. You are not bound by their rules. You are not theirs. You are not mine. You are something they cannot predict. I need the power of a dragon, Lukas."

"To do what?"

"To tip the scales in my favour. To tear the rot out by its roots," the old man said. "To break the chains the Church has wrapped around this Tower. To return it to what it was meant to be."

Lukas leaned back, processing it all.

The old man let out a breath, as if the weight of his own words had finally settled on him. "And I understand if you decide to refuse. You owe me nothing. And what I'm asking you to face…it won't be easy. It will make you enemies. Dangerous ones."

Lukas folded his arms, his gaze steady. "Then don't act like I'm doing you a favor."

The old man's brow lifted slightly.

"If I'm going to do this," Lukas said, "I don't want to be your weapon. I'm not some tool you point at your problems. I want you to treat me like a proper apprentice. Teach me everything. Everything the Tower knows. Everything you know."

After what he'd seen, especially witnessing Rosalia and her use of magic, Lukas understood that he still knew frighteningly little of magic. He wanted to know more. He wanted to understand everything that there was about it.

What better way to do that through the Head Mage of the Tower himself?

The old man studied him for a long, quiet moment.

"I don't want scraps," Lukas continued. "I want to learn from the best. I want to grow. And I want it on my terms."

A slow smile crept across the old man's face. Not a grand, victorious smile. Just a small one. The smile of a man who had gambled and won.

"Very well," he said. "I will teach you. Not just tricks. Not just fragments. The whole of what the Tower has to offer. On my word."

"And I want a crystal," Lukas added, glancing at the pile on the desk. "Just throw it in for me. Something to sweeten the deal."

The old man let out a soft chuckle. He picked up one of the smaller crystals, turning it over in his palm before tossing it through the air.

Lukas caught it easily.

"Consider it yours," the old man told him.

Lukas turned the crystal in his hand, feeling its smooth edges. "It'll do."

"So we have a deal?"

Lukas looked up and met his eyes. "We do."

It would seem that Lukas would not be leaving the Kingdom of Easthaven any time soon. Not yet, at least.

Lukas sat alone on the balcony, the night air cool against his skin. Below him, the waters stretched far and endless, their gentle waves glimmering beneath the moonlight. He didn't know how long he would stay here in Easthaven.

Weeks. Months. Maybe years. But he did know how long he had left until he needed to return to Linemall.

Eight years.

The Draconic Summit would be held in eight years' time. A sacred gathering where the Dragon Lords would convene. And he had promised to return by then. But the idea of letting his loved ones wait for him for eight more agonizing years, left wondering if he had been swallowed by the seas, if he had died at the hands of the Hero—that sat wrong with him.

His conscience would never let him abandon them to that silence.

Lukas took the crystal from his pocket, feeling its pulse faintly in his palm. Then he summoned the Crown.

This time, its presence came sharper, stronger—a pale halo forming above his head, its glow steady and clear. He closed his eyes and spoke, letting the words carry through the Crown, letting the magic pass through the crystal, amplifying its power.

"My name is Lukas Drakos." His voice rang steady, carried not by wind or water, but by the weave of magic itself. "And I am alive."

He paused, letting the words sit in the space between them.

"I promise that I will return to Linemall. And when I do, I shall return as the rightful Dragon Lord of the Seas."

The halo flickered, the magic embedding his message into the world. He hoped it would reach the people who needed to hear it. His mother, Selene of Dawn. His niece, Katrina Drakos. Jesse Sterling and Velena Ilagron. The Royal Consort, the Lady Kaitlyn Drakos. His people, the ones who he had come to care for.

Lukas opened his eyes and let the Crown fade. The weight in his chest eased, just a little. He placed the crystal back in his pocket, praying that it had worked. He had done what he could, now only time would tell if that message would reach them.

The Seas of Linemall still called out to him. It always would. But for now, the Kingdom of Easthaven was where he would be.

The road ahead had only just begun.