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

Night had fallen over Easthaven, the palace halls quiet now, the grandeur of it all dimmed to shadows and soft candlelight.

Lukas moved through the motions of his nightly routine in silence, fingers working from memory as he sorted out the ingredients for his usual potion of sleep. The faint smell of crushed herbs filled the room—lavender, crushed yarrow root, a pinch of feather moss. He moved with practiced ease, placing each portion into the small iron pot already warming on the hearth.

Lukas cherished this part of the night as he always did. It came with a quiet he'd come to rely on.

Then, there was a knock. Lukas glanced toward the door, surprised.

It was late.

Lukas wiped his hands on the towel by the basin and then moved to open the doors to his quarters. Rosalia Elarion stood in the hallway, arms folded beneath her green cloak, eyes just a little tired.

"Can I come in?" she asked, voice quiet.

Lukas nodded immediately. "Of course."

Rosalia stepped inside without hesitation, dropping onto his bed with a familiar ease and let out a soft sigh.

"Having trouble falling asleep?" Lukas asked, returning to the pot with a knowing smile.

Rosalia nodded.

"I'll make another batch for you then," he told her, adjusting the quantities of the dried moonleaf and lemon balm in the pot.

The princess laughed, letting herself fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "About time I get to try that potion."

As the mixture began to simmer, releasing a calming steam into the air, Lukas glanced back at her.

"So what's keeping you up little one?" he questioned. "Nervous?"

"No," she answered plainly. "Not at all, actually."

"And why is that?"

Rosalia grinned. "Because I know I'll win. What is there to be nervous about?"

Lukas couldn't help but smile. There was no arrogance in her tone. No bravado. Just certainty.

It was the kind of certainty that came from hard work, from pain, from sacrifice. From doing everything right when no one was watching and people hadn't been watching. At least, not the way they had been watching Rosalia's opponent.

In the eyes of the public, Soren Ittriki was the favorite to win this Duel.

Daerion's bastard son had rebuilt his name with fire and grit. He challenged the best of Nozar, fought and won against a Vice Admiral, a victory that someone his age should not have been capable of. It was the kind of rise didn't go unnoticed.

On the other hand, the princess had trained in silence. Her victories weren't loud and they did not need to be. Other than her triumph over Soren years ago, few had seen how far she had come in the past five years.

But Lukas had. He had seen it in her every morning when she trained until she was soaked in sweat. In every spell she failed and forced herself to master. In how she surpassed every impossible expectation he set for her. And Rosalia did it not just to prove herself to others, but to prove to herself of the heights she knew she was capable of reaching.

She had not trained to impress others. She had trained to win.

Lukas turned back to the potion, now thickening slightly as he added a dash of bunyip ashes; finishing what little he had left of the ingredient. He would have to restock, a problem to worry about tomorrow.

The room was quiet save for the gentle bubbling of the pot. Lukas stirred slowly, the scent of sleeproot and nightshade bark blending with the warm undertones of mint and star thistle. Across from him, Rosalia sat with her legs folded on the bed, hands curled around the ceramic cup, untouched.

The Kraken remained silent within him too—resting, listening, content to let this moment pass without interruption.

Still, Lukas could tell something weighed on her. There was a stillness in her that wasn't peace. A pressure gathering behind her eyes, just waiting to surface. A pressure that had prevented her from falling asleep tonight. Lukas didn't push her, he never needed to.

When Rosalia was ready, she finally spoke. "Have you ever been in a position like this?" she asked quietly. "On the brink of getting everything you've ever dreamed of?"

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Lukas blinked. His mind didn't go memories made in the seas, to Linemall, to dragons or gods or wars or to Hiraeth.

It went back to another world entirely. To another name. To the dying moments of Julien Fronterra.

The throbbing pain in his heart. The screams from the crowd like thunder through his skull. The cage lights shining above like twin suns.

Knowing that if he won that night, he'd be immortalized in the sport forever. It was everything he had trained his life for. It was everything that he had thought he wanted.

Lukas stirred the potion once more, slower now. "Yes," he answered at last. "I have."

Rosalia looked over at him, waiting for the words that came next; knowing that Lukas had more to say.

This time, Lukas didn't need to think hard about the answer that came next. Still, he chose his words carefully. Not for his sake. But for hers.

"I don't think most people really know what they want," Lukas whispered softly. "Not really. Not until they have it. Not until it's far too late."

Rosalia frowned.

"But that's okay," Lukas continued. "You know why? Because you're young. You've got time. Time to figure it all out. Time to find what you really want out of life, little one."

He poured the last of the potion into her cup and sat beside her, watching the soft steam curl upward between them.

"There's a saying I've always liked," he said, offering her a small smile. "If you get on the wrong ship, get off at the nearest island. Because the longer you stay, the more expensive the return trip will be."

Rosalia raised an eyebrow, and Lukas chuckled faintly. "What I mean is—you don't have to be someone you don't want to be. Not for anyone. Not even for the version of yourself that thought this is what you wanted."

Lukas looked at her now, serious. "Whatever life you want to lead…that choice is yours. And solely yours."

Rosalia stared into her cup for a moment longer, then finally took a sip. She didn't say anything right away. But when she leaned her head against his shoulder a moment later, Lukas could see it in her expression—his words had hit hard. They were still sinking in. He didn't expect a reply, didn't need one.

Sometimes the silence said more than any words really could. Rosalia sipped on the potion slowly, letting the warmth settle into her bones. Then, her voice—quiet, hesitant. "Do you know what you want?"

Lukas watched the potion swirl in his own cup, the soft steam rising and fading. "I do," he replied simply.

She turned her head toward him, eyelids already drooping a little. "What is it?"

Lukas gave her a small smile and shook his head. "That's a conversation for another time," he told her. "Right now, you need to rest, little one. Tomorrow's a big day. For all of us—but especially for you."

She didn't argue. The potion worked quickly, like it always did. Within minutes, Rosalia's body had relaxed, her head lightly tilting forward, breath slowing. She fought it at first, but her resistance was half-hearted at best.

By the time Lukas stood, she was already half asleep. He scooped her into his arms gently, carrying her with ease. Her head rested against his shoulder, the faintest murmur escaping her lips—something too soft to understand.

The hallways of the palace were quiet as he walked, moonlight spilling through the tall windows, painting silver paths across the stone.

When Lukas reached her room, he pushed open the door gently with his shoulder and stepped inside. Lukas laid her down carefully, tucking the blanket up around her shoulders, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She didn't stir.

Lukas watched her for a long moment before he turned and stepped back out, letting the door close quietly behind him. And as he walked back through the dark corridors, a quiet certainty settled in his chest.

He already had what he wanted.

For most of his life as Julien Fronterra he had chased the thrill, the lights, the roar of the crowd.

He had thought that was his dream. He had thought that the pinnacle of life was glory and gold and the spotlight.

Just before the end of his first life and in those last seconds, when his heart beat for the last time and the cage lights blurred into a distant sun, he realized what he truly longed for.

Not a championship. Not recognition. Not immortality in the history of mixed martial arts.

None of that really mattered to him, not truly.

He had wanted love. He had wanted a family. He had wanted genuine emotional connection with others he cared deeply about. He had wanted people could protect and people he could call his own.

Now, in this strange world of Hiraeth and in this second chance of a life that had been granted to him, he had that.

He had Styx. He had Rosalia. He had Jesse. He had the Kraken. He had Katrina. He had the Lady Kaitlyn. He had Magnus. He had Velena. He even had Darren and his family who Lukas reminded himself to visit again soon.

They were his people. And he was theirs.

Lukas Drakos was no longer alone. And he couldn't ask for more.

As he drank the last of his potion and wrote his letter to Styx, he allowed himself to drift into the embrace of Hypnos. And as he did, he whispered to the one who had made all of this possible, to the Man in Green who he knew he would one day meet, hoping he would hear these words:

"Thank you. Thank you for everything."