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

Lukas' strike landed with the fury of a hurricane given form.

The Hero's body was thrown backwards, crashing into the waters he had once commanded, the impact shattering the surface in a violent spray. For a fleeting heartbeat, it seemed the sea would swallow the man whole. Yet even the waters did not grant the Hero refuge. They roared upward, surging like a living wall, and cast the man back into the sky as though the ocean itself had rejected its own champion.

Lukas would not allow the Hero even a single chance to even catch his breath.

The power coursing through Lukas was not his own and yet it surged with the fierce certainty of belonging. He could feel the weight of every Dragon Lord regardless of which of the Great Houses they ruled over lending him everything they had been able to achieve in their lifetimes. How this was possible, Lukas did not know and he did not need to know.

All that mattered was that their strength was his and their faith had bound itself to his soul, with it Lukas would put an end to this battle once and for all.

But all that power came a toll so vast it threatened to break him.

Lukas had once been lost to the worlds within the Crest, where he had endured the endless torrent of memories belonging to the Heads of House Drakos, the Dragon Lords of Linemall's Seas. It was this experience which had scarred his mind and at the same time tempered it like steel, giving him the will to bear the flood of lives not his own.

Yet Lukas had only withstood the Crest when it had simply been his own lineage from which he had drawn strength from.

Now, the floodgates had been opened and memories tore through his consciousness without restraint.

Lukas staggered beneath the voices, his breath ragged and his vision beginning to split into fragments of lives that were never his.

He was Lukas Drakos yet in the same heartbeat he was Kaeyrth Telaryon and Godric Sterling, ones whose triumphs and agonies crashed into him like waves against stone.

Thousands of years of struggle, rule and sacrifice pressed against the edges of his sanity.

The endless expanse, vast and unbroken, filled with winged shadows soaring in freedom.

The Lords of Linemall's Skies, the Great House Sterling that had once dominated the heavens above the kingdom, poured their memories into him. He felt the bite of wind against his face and the roar of dragons whose wings that had once blotted out the sun. Faces appeared before him—dragons bearing Jesse's sharp and intelligent eyes. Generations of Sterling blood, Jesse's own forefathers, all alive again within him, each voice demanding to be remembered.

Then came the Earth. The weight of it crushed down upon his mind, grounding him even as the Skies continued to soar through his mind. He saw the vast forests, stone halls and roots that wound deep beneath the kingdom. He saw Erandyl as a child, her laughter ringing against mountain stone and her mother Kaeryth, stern yet gentle, guiding her through traditions that stretched beyond the memory of men. He saw the two guardians of soil and stone, standing watch over centuries, their burdens sinking into him like iron chains.

Lukas' body trembled, not from exhaustion but from the sheer immensity of what now lived within him. He was drowning in borrowed lifetimes, in memories layered upon memories, all of it threatening to consume him whole. He felt himself unravel at the edges, his own identity fraying beneath the avalanche of foreign memories that were not his own.

If Lukas faltered for even a moment, if he yielded even an inch, he knew what awaited him.

An erasure of his very self.

The dragon that was Lukas Drakos and even the human Julien Fronterra had once been would vanish beneath the tide.

As he fought to hold himself together, the Hero From Another World continued his assault. The man who had once been his father—summoned from that distant world Lukas had once called his own—stood before him not as family but as a reminder of every single regret that carried across lifetimes.

The Hero did not hesitate, did not relent. The blade of the past carved through the present, demanding Lukas' focus.

Every strike forced him to answer. Every clash threatened to undo the fragile balance he desperately tried to maintain within his mind.

What use was all the power in the world if it could not be wielded? What meaning did strength hold if it stripped him control over his own body?

Lukas knew he could not hold on much longer and he knew what would become of him if the Crest consumed him then and there. He had seen what had happened to Hydraria Telaryon, the dragonborn who had been reduced to nothing but a beast of hunger and bloodlust, stripped of all memory and self. That very fate loomed before him now, getting closer with every heartbeat.

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But Lukas refused to accept it.

This was not a battle for vengeance. It was not a battle for pride or for glory. He fought now for this life—the life he had chosen, the life he had built. And more than that, he fought for the future he longed to create, one that would outlast both Lukas and the Hero From Another World.

Before him stood a visage of the past but Lukas knew he was not fighting for the man he had been.

He was fighting for the dragon he had become.

Instead of the Divinity of the Seas, instead of surrendering to the endless weight of the Crest, Lukas reached deeper and another Legacy stirred at his command. The Legacy of the Crown, the very first form of magic Lukas had ever called upon. His mind reached outward, finding theirs as though no distance existed between him and all those he loved

He felt Jesse Sterling, his unshakable loyalty resonating within him. He touched the mind of Rosalia Elarion, her heart burning with faith that had never once wavered. Katrina Drakos, fierce and resolute, her trust in him unwavering. Selene of Dawn, whose love for him was endless. The Lady Kaitlyn Drakos, whose wisdom and love had guided him when he needed it the most. Even Rysenth and Erandyl who had placed their trust in him. And beyond them, further still the Crown's magic went until it had reached every soul that called Linemall their home.

They were with him. Not in body, but in spirit.

Lukas realized that he was not—and had never been—defined by strength alone. His worth did not lie in the sheer power he could unleash nor in the legacies he had inherited. He was not who he was because of the titles he bore.

It was because they believed in him, and because he believed in them.

He was Lukas Drakos because of his people. And that was all he had ever wanted, in this life and the last.

Suddenly, clarity returned to Lukas' eyes.

Through it all were memories that belonged not to the Lords within the Crest but rather from the connections established through the Crown.

First, he saw Rosalia's memories. His Miracle Girl. The princess who had shown him that love and kindness were not fragile dreams but truths and ideals worth fighting for. He saw himself as she did—not only as the man she loved, but as the father she had never known, the pillar who stood unshaken even in her darkest nights. Her faith wrapped around him like light shining through the darkness.

Then came Jesse's. Proud, defiant Jesse Sterling, who saw him as more than a Lord. A mentor. One who could do what others could not, who could hold back the tide when all else had fallen. Lukas felt the weight of that admiration settle into his chest, not as a burden but as strength.

Katrina's followed, her love for him unchanging despite their past, despite his. It was Lukas who had saved the Seas in its darkest moments and it was him who Katrina would always place her trust in.

His mother, Selene, who had never once doubted him even for a second. She had told him once to believe in himself like she believed him. It was the wyvern who had given him wisdom that had guided him through Lukas' greatest uncertainties.

The Lady Kaitlyn Drakos who knew that Lukas would be the one to bring the change Linemall needed for a better future, it was the Royal Consort of the Seas who had always known that Lukas was meant to rule as Lord.

One after another, their voices, their visions and their hopes poured into him. He saw himself not through the fractured mirrors of the Crest but through the eyes of those who had chosen to love him, who had chosen to stand beside him.

On his left hand, his wedding band pulsed with sudden warmth. It was the ring that tied him to Styx—the goddess who had given him not only her hand but her essence. It was as though she knew the battle he now fought, whispering across the realms to let her husband know that she was with him now and forever. Styx was his anchor and she always would be.

And that was all Lukas needed.

The haze of stolen memories—the countless lives and centuries that had threatened to erase him—lifted in an instant. His gaze sharpened, his resolve crystallized, and when the Hero's blade came down in a strike meant to send him reeling once more, Lukas did not falter.

The dragon roared back.

With speed and precision born not of instinct but of unshakable will, Lukas met the blow head-on. His counter drove into the Hero with crushing force, halting the man's momentum in its tracks.

The tide of battle shifted in that single heartbeat.

Every punch that followed was more than strength; it was conviction given form. Every surge of magic drawn from the Divinity of the Seas did not come from the souls that now lived through him but as his own voice raised against the noise.

The Hero fought back, his strikes carrying the desperation of one who had never known defeat. But Lukas was unstoppable. His fists hammered into the man with the relentless rhythm of crashing waves. Each impact sent ripples through the air, shockwaves that shook the world.

The Hero staggered, reeled, yet still tried to rise against the storm.

But it was pointless.

For the first time since his summoning, the Champion of Oceanus could fight no longer. The Hero from another world, the one this world had come to call the strongest, crumbled beneath Lukas' onslaught. And with one final strike—containing all the strength, power and magic that the Dragon Lord could muster—Lukas drove his fist into the Hero's side in a devastating blow.

Finally, the Hero sank to his knees. Silence followed, heavy and absolute.

The ocean, once the Hero's ally, stilled in reverence. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Because for the first time in the history of Hiraeth, the Hero From Another World had lost.

And now, Lukas Drakos had claimed the title of the Strongest this world had ever seen.