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

The stairwell narrowed as Lukas descended, the stone beneath his boots worn smooth over the years. With each step he took, Lukas felt like he was descending deeper into silence.

The lights grew dimmer the farther he went but eventually Lukas reached the first underground floor.

Before him stretched a vast underground chamber in the truest sense. It was a subterranean sea of records, relics, and secrets; kept within towering rows of metallic vaults that shimmered dully beneath weak lantern light. The ceiling disappeared into shadow and the ends of the cavern dissolved into an endless stream farther than the eye could see.

Lukas couldn't even begin to count the rows. There were hundreds of them, maybe even thousands.

Lukas could see why the Church had closed off the fourth and fifth underground floors. With a space this massive, it would be decades—if not centuries—before they ever ran out of room to store their records.

He didn't see anyone, which made sense—it was already late and the recordkeepers had probably already went home for the night—but that didn't mean he was alone. Something about the air here…it didn't feel empty. Lukas felt like he was being watched but he chalked it up to his nerves simply acting up.

The underground floors of the Church were very poorly lit.

There was really only the occasional lantern, its flame barely alive, offered brief halos of light across the rows. Lukas kept his breathing even and walked slowly, his ears straining for the slightest sound. It took a while, but eventually he allowed himself to believe that perhaps he really was the only one down here.

That was when the voice came. "You shouldn't be down here, you know." It was almost teasing, but not in a way he found comforting.

Lukas jumped, his heart slamming in his chest, and he turned sharply toward the sound.

Then, he saw her.

It was the High Septon of the Church herself. She stood alone at the end of the corridor, her presence still and silent.

But what startled him most wasn't her sudden appearance. What startled him the most was that, for the first time, the High Septon wasn't wearing the veil that kept her face hidden.

Her face was now bare for all to see, for him to see.

She was young. Far younger than he ever imagined. For all the weight the title she carried—for all the reverence the High Septon's presence demanded—Lukas had expected a woman of considerable age. But what he saw instead was a girl no older than Rosalia. Her skin was smooth, untouched by the effects of time. Her hair was jet black, falling like silk behind her shoulders. And her eyes—green, vivid, almost a little too green—shone in the half-dark with great intensity.

In one hand she held a lamp, not a dim one like the flickering lanterns lining the vaults, but one fueled by a white magical crystal. Its glow poured outward, casting away shadows Lukas hadn't even realized were clinging to the walls. The entire corridor lit up like a stage. And she had been standing there for what seemed to be the entire time.

How the hell hadn't Lukas noticed her earlier?

There was just something so off about the High Septon. Her presence was silent—but overwhelming. It was as if she had been here long before he arrived and would still be here long after he was gone.

Ancient was the only word to describe her.

Lukas straightened instinctively, spine tense, lips parting with the beginnings of an excuse. He didn't know why he even tried—maybe some small, ridiculous hope that he could pretend this wasn't what it looked like.

But the High Septon laughed softly. It was a sound too casual for the situation they both found themselves in. She raised a hand. "Relax. I'm not going to rat you out, if that's what you're worried about." Her voice was clear, unhurried, laced with an amusement that set him more on edge than her silence had.

And before Lukas could stop himself, the question left his mouth—fast, sharp, like a blade drawn too quickly. "Why did you laugh?"

The High Septon tilted her head, intrigued and slightly confused.

"Not just now. But when we first met," he quickly added. "When I told you my name. You laughed. What was so funny about it?" Lukas had been meaning to ask her that question for a while now yet never found the right time. He figured there would be no better time than right now.

The High Septon's green eyes glinted in the light of her lamp. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked. "How could I take you seriously when you weren't even being honest with me?"

Lukas froze.

She smiled faintly. "They may know you as Klein. But I know who you really are, Lukas Drakos."

There was no hesitation, her voice echoing with certainty. With something older than knowledge—like faith sharpened into fact. "You are not just a mage of the Tower or the Merchant Guild. You…are a Dragon Lord. A Dragon Lord of the Seas, might I add."

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Lukas didn't say a word but he did not panic nor did he try to fabricate another lie.

It was clear that the High Septon had known his true identity for a while now and if she had wanted to expose him, she would've done it already.

Lukas' silence only seemed to amuse her further.

"Or," the High Septon went on, glancing over at him, "would you prefer I call you by another name? A name that you once bore in another life?"

Lukas took in a sharp breath.

She met his gaze, calm and almost playful. "Would you rather me refer to you as Julien Fronterra?"

Everything in him stopped. The name crashed into him like a wave of cold iron. For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. His body locked in place, every muscle drawn tight. His heart was beating too fast, pounding through his ribs like it wanted out.

It was a name that had once been his. A name from a world that wasn't Hiraeth. A name that he had long put behind him.

His throat tightened. "Who..." He didn't finish the question.

The High Septon saw the fear behind his eyes. The confusion. The fractured memories surfacing all at once. She raised a hand again—not to silence him, but to calm him.

"I do not mean you any harm," she assured him gently. "Truly. Please know that I come in peace." Her voice had changed. It was sincere now but that only made her more terrifying to Lukas. "Why would I ever wish you harm when," The High Septon continued, "we serve the same master?"

Lukas stared at her, voice low. "And what master is that?"

She paused at the edge of the corridor, green eyes catching the light of her lamp, glowing now in a way that seemed…unnatural....in a way that seemed…almost divine.

Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

She didn't answer his question.

She didn't need to.

Because Lukas knew exactly what master she served.

She served the Man in Green.

The High Septon began to walk, beckoning for him to follow. The longer she walked beside him, the less sense she made. And the more dangerous she felt.

Lukas could barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of her words. The name Julien Fronterra still echoed in his skull like a bell tolling deep inside a cathedral. He had long healed from the wounds of his past life but that did not change the hurt he felt when she unearthed those scars; forcing him to bear witness to them once again.

Lukas opened his mouth—to ask something, anything—but she spoke first.

"I will not lie to you," she muttered softly, almost idly. "I had my doubts when he first chose you."

Lukas turned to her, eyes narrowing again. "Who?"

The High Septon ignored the question entirely. Lukas knew exactly who she was talking about and, to her, stupid questions did not deserve any answers.

"When he told me what you would become, I didn't see it. Not then." A small, amused smile touched her lips. "But after you passed Trials of Kairos Castle…well. Even I have to admit—he chose his champion well. Many go insane after the Second Flip. You lasted well past that."

Lukas blinked. His pulse quickened. "How do you know th-" But he didn't get to finish his question.

Because the High Septon had stopped in her tracks. And only then did he realize they stood before a door. Simple, blackened wood. No markings and no lock. Just a single handle, brass and dulled by time.

"It will all make sense to you in due Time, Lukas." the High Septon promised, her voice lowering, settling into something like prophecy. "Everything has its place. Everything has its hour."

The woman turned to him, eyes gleaming like polished emerald beneath the glow of the lantern.

"The vault you're looking for is on the fifth floor. It is there you will find Varian's records. This door will lead you straight to it. No need to check the fourth." She extended the lamp toward him as she gave him instructions to follow. "What you find in that vault will explain many of your questions. But…not all of them."

Lukas hesitated. He didn't move to take the lamp right away.

Something wasn't sitting right with him.

This woman—this girl—knew too much. She had known from the beginning that he would come here. She had waited for this exact moment for him to arrive.

Lukas frowned, hesitating a moment longer. "Why should I trust you?"

Nothing about her made sense.

If she did serve the Man in Green then why in Hiraeth would she be acting as the High Septon of the Church that served a different god altogether?

She let out a breath that might've been a sigh—or a prayer. "I swear it," she stated without hesitaiton. "I swear it on the River Styx herself."

Lukas felt a chill move through the air like a gust of something invisible. It wasn't just a promise—it was a vow. A vow not even gods could break. And if the gods did not dare to break it, she was no different.

Suddenly the lantern felt lighter in his hands as he took it from her. The light within it pulsed faintly, responding to his grip.

The mysterious girl stepped back, her figure half-surrendered to shadow once more.

Lukas reached for the door handle—but paused, glancing over his shoulder.

"I never got your name," Lukas whispered quietly. He remembered how she had said her name was of little importance. But he had a feeling that was not true.

Now the High Septon stood there, still as a monument, considering. Considering whether she should answer that question. Then—perhaps deciding that Lukas had earned at least the right to know her name—she bowed her head, just slightly.

"My name is Pythia," the young girl told him. "Pythia of Delphi."

She met his gaze one last time.

"And it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance…Lukas Drakos. We will meet again, that I know. Hurry now. You are running out of time."

Lukas stared at her for a moment longer, heart thudding in his chest, the name curling in his mind like smoke around fire.

Then Lukas turned the handle, opening the door as he began his descent to the fifth floor.