Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

With the city secured, Sorin wastes no time. She leads her forces toward the city lord’s mansion, the last stronghold of authority in Delon.

The grand structure stands at the heart of the ruined city, its once-pristine white stone now stained with soot and blood. The gates hang open, abandoned. Whatever resistance was stationed here has already scattered or surrendered.

But as Sorin steps inside, her sharp eyes scan the dimly lit hall—and immediately, she freezes.

Alix is already there.

He stands in the center of the grand chamber, his posture relaxed yet commanding. At his side looms a massive lycanthrope, eyes gleaming with predatory sharpness.

Sorin stops in her tracks, her eyes flickering with momentary surprise before she quickly composes herself. She places a fist over her heart and bows slightly. ”Your Majesty, you’re here.”

Alix turns to her, a faint smirk playing at his lips. ”I am,” he says, his voice calm yet firm. ”And I’m satisfied with your work.”

Sorin straightens, pride flashing in her eyes for a brief moment before she speaks again. ”We’ve secured the city. The remaining forces have surrendered, and order is being established.”

Alix nods, glancing toward the open doors behind her. ”Good. I expected nothing less.” His gaze sharpens as he looks at her. ”Any issues?”

She hesitates for half a second before shaking her head. ”No. There were… a few who stepped out of line, but I handled it.”

Alix studies her for a moment, then gives a slight nod. ”That’s what I like to hear.” He gestures toward the lycanthrope beside him. ”This is general Varkas. He’ll assist in securing the city moving forward from now on.”

Sorin immediately shifts her attention to Varkas, her expression turning serious. She places a fist over her heart again and bows respectfully. ”General Varkas,” she greets him firmly.

Though she can’t sense any aura from him, she knows exactly what that means. Only those who have surpassed Tier 5—level 500 and beyond—can completely suppress their presence. And she’s only just become Tier 4, barely scratching level 400. The sheer gap in strength is almost unimaginable. If Tier 4 has made her feel this powerful, then what kind of force does Tier 5 wield?

Varkas, arms still crossed, merely looks at her with a neutral expression. ”You’re disciplined. Good.” His deep voice carries a weight to it, as if he’s already assessing her worth.

Before Sorin can respond, Alix speaks. ”Varkas, go and help them settle the city first,” he instructs. ”Calak should be arriving any moment now—he’ll be the one to govern Delon.”

Sorin frowns slightly, unfamiliar with the name.

Alix glances at her. ”Calak is one of my soldiers,” he explains. ”He was the first to manage one of our captured towns. We don’t have enough manpower right now, but he already has experience. He should be fine.”

”As for me,” Alix continues, turning toward a nearby hallway, ”I’m going to see how much gold they have left.”

As Alix walks through the halls of the city lord’s mansion, he notices something strange—gold coins scattered across the floor. They glimmer under the dim torchlight, some piled in corners, others abandoned near overturned furniture.

He scoffs. ”These guys must’ve tried to take as much as they could,” he mutters, shaking his head. ”Looks like they ran out of time.”

The deeper he goes, the more obvious it becomes. Some chests are left half-open, sacks of gold spilled carelessly. Whoever was in charge of the treasury must have been in a mad rush to escape, but either got caught in the chaos or simply didn’t have enough hands to carry it all.

Finally, he arrives at the treasury.

The heavy doors are wide open, a clear sign that the looting was either rushed or unfinished. Inside, the room is a mess—shelves knocked over, weapons and armor scattered across the floor. There are a few enchanted swords and ornate breastplates, likely valuable to ordinary soldiers.

But to Alix?

He barely glances at them. Compared to the items in his arsenal, these are nothing but scraps. Even his lowest-grade equipment outclasses these relics.

”All are garbage,” he mutters, stepping past them.

His focus is on the gold.

”But all these gold coins are like an energizer to me,” he smirks.

Stacks of coins, small chests filled to the brim, pouches carelessly left on the tables—despite the attempted looting, there’s still a massive amount left behind. Without hesitation, he raises his palm.

A faint hum fills the air.

Then, like a vacuum, the gold surges toward him.

The coins lift off the ground, streaming through the air in a dazzling cascade. Chests rattle as their contents spill forth, swirling toward his open palm before vanishing into thin air—absorbed directly into his system.

In mere moments, the gold coins in the treasury are gone.

A notification flashes across his transparent screen.

[Gold: +1,742,630]

Alix’s eyes flick to his balance. His total gold skyrockets past 1,700,000.

He exhales, satisfied. ”Not bad.”

Looking around, only the weapons and armor remain. Alix crosses his arms, unimpressed.

”Might as well reward these to the soldiers,” he mutters.

He turns and leaves the treasury, making his way back outside.

By the time he arrives, Sorin, Calak, and Varkas are already waiting for him. Calak, a hobgoblin with sharp features and a disciplined posture, immediately steps forward. His eyes burn with gratitude as he places a fist over his heart.

”Thank you, Your Majesty, for thinking so highly of me,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

Alix studies him for a moment before nodding. ”With your performance in managing that town, I’m confident you can handle this city just as well,” he says. ”You are no longer just an ordinary soldier of my kingdom.”

The weight of those words crashes over Calak. His breathing hitches, his fingers twitch slightly as if resisting the urge to knowtow. Just being remembered—just having Alix acknowledge him—fills him with overwhelming joy.