Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Alix lets the silence stretch for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the nobles shift, unsettled beneath their invisible brands. Then, without looking at them again, he speaks.

”You’re dismissed.”

The nobles nearly trip over themselves in their rush to bow and back away, the polished floor echoing with nervous footsteps. None speak. None look back.

As the heavy chamber doors groan shut behind them, sealing their fate under the Curse Mage’s watch, Alix finally turns his head.

”Come with me,” he says quietly to Gander.

The cursed mage inclines his head, the motion eerily smooth, like a marionette guided by invisible strings. He follows as Alix rises from the obsidian throne and strides down the black marble steps, his dark cloak trailing behind him like a shadow laced with embers.

They walk through the newly claimed palace, its grandeur now twisted by Alix’s presence. Once-golden banners have been torn down and replaced with black silk marked with the sigil of his rule—an open eye wreathed in thorns.

The air still smells faintly of scorched stone and death, remnants of the battle that shattered the capital just yesterday.

As they pass through a long corridor, the massive vault doors at the end loom into view—torn open by Alix earlier in the day, their enchanted locks broken like brittle bone under his power.

They step inside the royal treasury.

”I got nearly fifty million,” Alix murmurs to himself. ”And yet…”

He glances over his shoulder.

”Thirty million was the price to bring Gander back” he thought, and Gander who remains still, his green eye-flames flickering faintly.

Alix’s thoughts drift backward—just a few hours ago.

Alix raises a hand. The system’s interface hovers beside him, awaiting the final input.

Revive Named Subordinate: Gander

Level: 625

Tier: 6 Curse Mage

Cost: 30,000,000 Gold Coins

Proceed?

He doesn’t hesitate.

”Proceed.”

Then a scream.

Not from Gander, but from the space around them. Space bends inward as the soul merges with the ritual, flesh growing from air, bones knitting from ash. Smoke and thread stitch his body together—eye-flames returning with a snap of cursed wind.

And just like that—he stands again.

Now, back in the present—back in the silent vault where the gold no longer gleams quite as brightly—Alix turns his gaze toward the far wall.

”Come,” he says quietly to Gander, already striding forward.

At first glance, the wall appears unremarkable: smooth obsidian like the rest of the chamber, unbroken by door or handle. But Alix knows better. He found it earlier—a faint draft in a room that shouldn’t breathe, a subtle distortion in mana that whispered of secrets sealed behind stone. He hadn’t had time to open it then. But now?

They stop before the section of wall that seems just a little too perfect.

Alix lifts his hand, brushing his fingers against the cold surface. ”Here,” he says. ”It’s masked. Illusory layering over enchanted stone. Someone went to great lengths to keep this hidden.”

Gander steps forward, his long fingers trailing over the wall with delicate precision. His eye-flames narrow slightly.

”…Fascinating,” he murmurs, voice low and rasping. ”This isn’t just a physical barrier. It’s warded with threading seals… and displacement loops. Tier six, almost.”

Alix raises an eyebrow. ”Someone didn’t want this door touched.”

Gander’s fingers stop near the center of the wall. He leans in, closer than most would dare to get, inhaling deeply through nostrils that are little more than carved slits beneath a web of scarred, sewn flesh.

”Only by those with the blood can open it.” he says slowly, the word slithering off his tongue like oil.

Alix frowns, crossing his arms. ”Royal bloodline, then?”

Gander nods, his eye-flames flickering with interest. ”Yes. And not simply by presence… it requires intent… ritual knowledge. This door doesn’t open by blood alone. It opens by memory—specific words passed down through generations. A command only the true heirs of Ordeya would know.”

Alix clicks his tongue. ”So, it will be hard to open this.”

”For most, yes.” Gander steps back, his staff tapping lightly against the floor. ”But this is a lock, Your Majesty. And locks can be broken.”

Alix gives him a look—somewhere between amused and expectant. ”Show me.”

The Curse Mage’s jaw creaks as it opens in a grin too wide for his face. ”With pleasure.”

He plants the staff firmly in front of the door, then raises both hands. The air thickens immediately, as if the very stone begins to resist him. The enchantments flare— glyphs spiraling across the surface in violent protest.

The wall doesn’t want to be opened.

Gander’s voice cuts through the pressure. ”By the Unseen Strings, by bone and curse, I unweave thee…”

Runes spring into the air, tangled and writhing, pulled from the locks themselves. The wall groans—not physically, but spiritually—a sound that resonates deep in the chest.

”…By rot of oath and crumbling line, reveal thy truth to not thy kind… but mine.”

One by one, the seals flicker, then scream. There is no other word for it—the sound is raw, hollow, ancient.

The sigils twist violently before shattering like glass. Black smoke bleeds from the cracks, and the obsidian door trembles, no longer hiding its existence, but pleading not to be touched.

”Final layer,” Gander says, voice strained now. ”It’s anchored to the soul of the founder. They used a soulbrand key. Brilliant.”

Alix speaks coldly. ”Then kill it.”

Gander slams his staff to the ground, sending a jolt of cursed energy through the floor. The skull at the top lets out a low, warbling groan—and then, with a flash of green fire and a snap of unraveling spirit-twine, the final enchantment shatters.

The door howls.

The wall pulls itself apart, not sliding or swinging, but disintegrating layer by layer, revealing a dark tunnel descending deeper into the stone. Cold, ancient air rushes out, tasting of old blood and extinguished names.

Alix steps forward, peering down into the black.

Alix doesn’t pause.

He walks into the darkness, boots thudding softly against ancient stone. Gander follows silently, and the air around them grows colder with each step—as if even time itself hesitated to breathe in this place.

The tunnel spirals, etched with sigils so old they’ve nearly eroded into meaningless scratches. Here and there, faint lights shimmer.

Minutes pass. Maybe more. The silence deepens until even the sound of their steps begins to feel like a violation.

Then… a chamber.

The walls are cracked and uneven, the ceiling bowed with age, but at the center of the room stands a structure that immediately stops Alix in his tracks.

A portal.

Barely.

It’s a ring of stone, roughly carved and bound in runes that have faded to near-invisibility. The air inside it ripples, sluggish and unstable. Mana sputters along its edges like wet fire. The portal is open, but barely holding. It flickers in and out, as though one breath might cause it to collapse entirely.

Alix exhales slowly, lips curling into something between disbelief and disdain.

”…This thing is even worse than my blueprints lowest portal.”

He approaches it, crouching slightly to inspect the base. ”Core’s degraded. No stabilizer array. The anchor is leaking into the floor.” He taps the rim with a finger—stone chips off at his touch. ”How is this thing even still active?”

Gander tilts his head, the green flames of his eyes flaring slightly as he surveys the ancient gateway. ”It’s not active in the traditional sense,” he murmurs. ”It’s clinging—a husk of what it was, held together by sheer stubborn magic.”

Alix rises, brushing his hands off. ”It’s a miracle this thing hasn’t collapsed in on itself. If someone actually tried to walk through it like this, they’d be lucky to come out with their bones intact.”

He turns toward Gander, brow raised. ”Can you stabilize it?”

Gander doesn’t answer right away. He walks forward slowly, steps deliberate, robes dragging faint dust across the floor. He stops just short of the portal, and lifts a hand.

Murmured incantations slip from his mouth, too quiet for the stone to catch. Threads of black mana wind from his fingertips, snaking into the portal’s frame. The unstable shimmer inside the ring flinches, sputters… then settles. The flickering light grows steady. The sputtering hum smooths into a deep, even pulse.

Gander lowers his hand.

The portal stands—whole.

Alix watches it for a moment longer before speaking. ”…That was fast.”

Gander’s lips twitch into a thin, unsettling smile. ”It was never broken. Just abandoned. Left to rot, without fuel, without guidance. All it needed was a command.”

Alix steps forward, stopping just at the threshold of the now-stable portal. The energy rolls against his skin like warm mist. ”Where do you think it goes?”

Gander shrugs, the motion unsettling in its fluidity. ”Impossible to say, your majesty. It’s not labeled, and the anchors are too weak to trace. But the spell matrix is… purposeful. It was built to go somewhere specific. Not random.”

Alix narrows his eyes at the portal’s steady hum, then glances sideways at Gander.

”Be ready,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. ”We’re going in.”

Gander inclines his head once, wordless, and steps to Alix’s side. The portal’s light dances along his stitched features and flickering eye-flames, casting unnatural shadows across the cracked chamber.

Alix doesn’t hesitate.

He steps through.

Light bends. Space folds. Sound evaporates.

And then—he lands.

The crunch of leaves beneath his boots surprises him. He straightens quickly, eyes scanning the surroundings.

Massive trees tower overhead, their trunks gnarled and roots tangled like veins in the earth. Pale mist clings to the forest floor, swirling slowly around the ankles.