Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Instead of soaring upward, his boots barely clear the ground. The air feels thick—like flying through syrup—and gravity yanks him back down.

He lands with a sharp thud.

”Tch.”

He flexes his legs, adjusting. ”Restrictions.”

He extends his senses. It’s subtle, but he can feel it—a thin net of spatial suppression layered across the air. Designed to keep them grounded. To keep them vulnerable.

Alix places two fingers in the air. A shimmer of transparent blue panel emerges—his inventory appears, displaying all his items.

He could tear the restriction apart in seconds.

But he doesn’t.

”No need,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall.

Instead, he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. The air smells faintly of dust, old stone, and mana. Not hostile. Not yet.

He opens them again and begins walking.

Alix walks in silence, boots tapping softly against the cracked stone. Each step echoes faintly in the open space, swallowed quickly by the vastness around him.

He keeps his senses sharp, scanning the surroundings as he moves. The place is unnaturally large—far too large.

”This place is huge… Ridiculously huge,” he mutters under his breath. ”No Tier 7 could’ve built this alone. Not even with a century of effort.”

There’s no wind. No sound but his own movements. Even mana flows in strange patterns here, sluggish but dense—like it’s resisting him, coiled tight into the bones of the land.

Alix narrows his eyes.

”It feels… artificial. But alive.”

He pauses, turning slightly. Something flickers at the edge of his vision.

Far ahead, between two crooked obsidian pillars, a shape moves—slow, deliberate.

Alix crouches slightly, his eyes narrowing. The shape resolves into something humanoid but off—its posture rigid, movements too smooth.

Then it steps into clearer view.

It’s a monster. Humanoid in form, covered in dark crimson armor etched with sharp runes. Its eyes glow a faint, eerie green. No emotion. No breath.

Alix tilts his head slightly.

”An ordinary soldier from Astram’s side?”

The soldier stops again, scanning the area.

Alix doesn’t rush. He watches, quietly weighing the situation. Then, with a thought, he activates a skill.

”Shadow Veil.”

The air ripples around him, and Alix’s form fades—his presence vanishing completely. No sound, no scent, no energy signature. Even mana has trouble recognizing him now.

The soldier doesn’t notice.

Instead, it reaches into a compartment on its hip and retrieves a small, oval-shaped item—a dull metallic stone with runes pulsing faintly along its surface.

Then the item trembles. A moment later, it floats up from the soldier’s hand and begins to drift slowly toward the east, pulsing with brighter light.

The soldier watches it for a second, then begins to follow.

Alix raises an eyebrow.

”A locator? That’s… clever.”

He steps into motion, completely silent beneath the effects of Shadow Veil, trailing the soldier from a safe distance.

”They came ready. That must be a directional marker to help their squads regroup.” His eyes follow the device with interest. ”Which means wherever it’s going… there’ll be more of them.”

His lips curl into a slight grin.

”Good. Let’s tail this guy. See where it leads.”

He moves effortlessly through the uneven terrain, never disturbing a single pebble. The soldier never looks back.

The path ahead begins to shift—larger structures loom in the mist, old and half-submerged. Alix narrows his eyes, senses stretching forward as the pulse of the locator speeds up slightly, its runes now blinking rapidly.

”Something’s close.”

Suddenly, the quiet is shattered.

From the foggy distance, rapid footsteps pound against the stone. Another figure in the same dark crimson armor bursts into view—running full sprint, armor scratched, movements frantic.

”Run!” the second soldier shouts, his voice hoarse and raw. ”They’re coming! Beasts—dozens of them!”

The first soldier stiffens, turning sharply. ”What?!”

”I said run! They’re—” The second soldier skids to a stop beside him, panting. ”They’re tracking my mana—they’re smart!”

The locator stone pulses faster.

A guttural snarl rolls through the air. Then another. And another.

Alix halts, shadows begin to shift in the mists beyond—low forms, crawling, slinking, stalking.

The first soldier curses, stepping back. ”You idiot! You brought them to me?!”

”What the hell was I supposed to do, die alone?” the second snaps, drawing a short-bladed weapon. ”Shut up and help me fight!”

They both tense, weapons raised.

But it’s too late.

Figures emerge from every angle—sleek beasts with elongated limbs and bone-like protrusions along their backs and jaws. Pale skin slick with moisture. Eyes that glow faintly violet.

One of them snarls, saliva dripping from jagged teeth. Then another growls behind the soldiers—closer than expected.

The two warriors go back-to-back instinctively, breathing heavy.

”They’re circling us…” the second mutters.

”No gaps… They’re coordinating,” the first growls. ”This isn’t some wild pack.”

Dozens of the creatures close in—Tier 4, like the soldiers. Equal in strength. But numbers? Unfairly tilted.

The beasts don’t wait for a signal.

They pounce.

The clash is brutal and fast. Steel meets claw, parries crash against snapping jaws, and blood sprays across stone. The soldiers fight well—disciplined, experienced. For a moment, it looks like they might hold.

But they don’t.

There are simply too many.

One soldier is taken from the side—dragged down by three beasts tearing at his armor, biting through the gaps with coordinated viciousness.

He screams once.

The other soldier roars, trying to reach him, but a leaping beast tackles him mid-stride. He goes down, blade slipping from his grip. Fangs sink into his throat before he can scream.

The air goes still again.

The growls fade, one by one.

The beasts drag the corpses into the mist—limbs trailing, armor scraping against stone. Then they vanish, slipping back into the fog like ghosts.

Only blood remains.

Alix stands still, watching.

No reaction. No movement. Just quiet eyes following the last sliver of motion until even the dragging fades.

”Quite efficient,” he mutters.

He steps forward, Shadow Veil still active, soundless.

The locator stone lies on the ground—its light dim now, runes flickering erratically.

Alix crouches, picking it up between two fingers.

The surface is warm.

He studies the pulsing runes, turning the stone over in his hand.

”Let’s see if I can use this thing.”

With a flick of his finger, he channels a sliver of mana into it.

The stone vibrates faintly—then a translucent screen blinks to life in front of him, floating just above the stone’s surface.

[Access Denied:

This item is restricted to authorized personnel of the Astram Dominion. Unauthorized use will trigger a failsafe.]

Alix blinks once. Then sighs.

”Well, that’s annoying.”

He straightens, raising his hand lazily to the air. His inventory window flickers open—a faint grid of glowing icons arranged across a translucent panel.

”Let’s see… where did I put you…” he mutters, scrolling through rows of categorized tools and consumables. ”Ah—there.”

He taps a small, star-shaped item nestled between a handful of utility scrolls and a half-spent crystal. A tiny, metallic gear-like trinket with blue threads pulsing along its edge.

[Item: Restriction Nullifier (Tier 2)

Removes class, bloodline, and allegiance locks from Tier 1–2 items.]

”Perfect.”

He selects it. The item appears in his hand instantly—cold and humming with soft mana.

Alix holds both the locator and the nullifier side by side, then presses them together. The nullifier dissolves into threads of light that spiral around the locator stone, seeping into its runes.

A faint click echoes through the air.

Then silence.

The screen vanishes.

The locator’s glow steadies.

Alix raises an eyebrow, smirking.

”Well, that was easy.”

He tosses the now-unlocked locator gently in the air and catches it.

”Let’s see what you were really pointing at.”

He channels mana into it again.

This time, the stone responds instantly. A narrow beam of light bursts from its core—pointing straight into the distance, toward the northeast.

Alix follows the stone through the mist-cloaked ruins. The locator hums faintly, its light unwavering now—sharp and steady like an arrow locked on its target.

Minutes pass.

Then, he sees them.

Figures in the distance—dozens, armored and armed. Crimson-etched armor glinting faintly beneath the strange light. They stand in a loose formation before a large, ancient structure half-swallowed by the earth.

A building… no, a tomb.

Massive stone doors sealed shut, decorated in weather-worn reliefs of battles long past. The air around it pulses subtly with pressure—old magic, dormant but dangerous.

He shifts his focus toward the front of the group.

One figure stands apart. Taller, broader—his aura alone thick enough to make the air buzz. Even from this distance, Alix can feel it pressing outward.

”Level 578…” he murmurs. ”Tier 5. That must be the commander.”

He exhales quietly. ’If I use a Tier 5 skill, he’ll sense it instantly…’

Instead, Alix flicks two fingers upward.

The inventory reappears in the air. He scrolls with a thought, eyes flicking through rows until he finds what he’s looking for—a soft gray veil-shaped charm, its surface marked with a spiral sigil.

[Item: Ghostveil Shard]

Grants true invisibility to all senses for three hours. No aura, no sound. Even Tier 6 perception won’t pierce it—unless they’re actively looking.

He taps it. The item vanishes in a glimmer of blue light—and so does he.

Alix looks down at himself. Nothing.

No shadow, no scent, no pressure.

”Let’s get closer.”

He moves forward in complete silence, stepping from stone to stone with eerie grace. No wind stirs. The soldiers ahead remain unaware, their weapons idle but ready, eyes scanning the fog.

One soldier kneels beside the tomb’s entrance, running a scanner over the seals. Another paces near the side, speaking into a silent comm-link.

Alix creeps closer.

The commander stands with arms crossed, helmet retracted to reveal a sharp, angular face marked by old scars. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes never stop moving—sweeping across the horizon, wary.