Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

’Even without using my items…’ he thinks, eyes flicking briefly to the still-flickering monolith above. ’…I can take those two down. Easy.’

Lathar exhales, then steps forward, closer than before. There’s something different in his voice now—not suspicion. Not anger. But a sharp, quiet fear.

”You must be eyeing our continent.”

Alix tilts his head, his expression unreadable.

”Promise me,” Lathar says. ”Promise me you won’t become the next Astram. Promise me you won’t enslave, conquer, or burn.”

The wind whistles faintly as the sky cracks further above them.

And Alix answers—firmly, without pause.

”Of course.”

He speaks with no theatrics now. Just a steady, grounded truth.

”I don’t find joy in enslaving others. And I won’t oppress those under me.”

He looks down—not with superiority, but with certainty.

”My people aren’t my tools. They’re my strength. I won’t rule through fear. Not like Astram.”

The soldiers shift again. Some are watching Alix differently now—more than fear, more than awe. Something bordering on hope. Belief.

Lathar studies him. Really studies him. His fingers twitch, like he wants to unsheathe his sword—out of habit, out of instinct. But he doesn’t.

He lowers his gaze for the first time.

A long breath escapes him.

”…Then prove it, King of Erevaris.”

Alix’s eyes narrow slightly. ”What do you mean?”

Lathar straightens.

”You say you won’t oppress. Then don’t force them. Show them.”

He nods to the field—the chaos, the scattered bodies, the silence still stretching like a blade across it all.

”Give them a reason to follow. Not a threat.”

Alix glances down at the soldiers. Some kneeling. Some trembling. Some standing but uncertain. He looks at them not as pawns—but people.

Then he lowers slowly, descending until his boots touch the ground with a faint crunch of glass and frost.

The books vanish, dissolving into threads of light.

And he speaks again—this time to everyone.

”I’m not your enemy. I’m not here to take what’s yours.”

He raises a hand and points to the monolith above.

”That is the real threat. And right now, I’m the only one who can stop it.”

He steps forward, his voice calm, resolute.

Before anyone can respond—

BOOM.

The ground trembles.

The monolith groans, groaning as ancient mechanisms churn deep inside it. Black smoke jets from the base, followed by a deep, guttural clang.

Then, a voice—mechanical, cold, emotionless—echoes from within the structure:

[Assessing anomaly…]

Everyone freezes.

A blood-red bolts coursing through the cracks above.

[Critical deviation detected.]

A low hum begins to rise, a resonance that makes the very bones in the soldiers’ bodies vibrate.

Alix’s gaze sharpens.

[Releasing the guardian.]

A heavy thud follows.

Then another.

The wall splits open, hissing steam and grinding stone echoing across the battlefield. Then, a massive claw wreathed in flames bursts out and slams down on the earth, sending shockwaves that knock lesser soldiers off their feet.

A massive lion-like beast steps out.

Its mane roars with fire, flickering like a solar storm. Each breath it takes ignites the air. Its eyes burn like molten cores, locked onto the intruders.

The aura hits like a tidal wave.

Oppressive. Suffocating. Dominant.

The Tier 4 and below soldiers crumple to their knees instantly, unable to even raise their weapons. Many collapse altogether, trembling.

The commanders act fast—shields raised, barriers flaring to life as they scramble to protect their units.

Some scream.

Others can only stare.

Alix doesn’t flinch.

He looks at the beast—massive, glowing, seething with untamed power—and tilts his head slightly.

Then he speaks, almost casually:

”Oh. A Tier 7 beast. What a surprise.”

He hovers higher again, cloak swirling.

That single sentence echoes like a thunderclap.

The crowd collectively stiffens.

Eyes widen. Some soldiers gasp. Others go pale. One of the Ember Claw commanders drops his blade.

”T-Tier… 7?” someone whispers.

”I-Is he serious?! That’s… That’s impossible!”

”I’ve never seen a Tier 6 beast, let alone—”

”Why would it even be here?!”

Alix doesn’t answer them. His eyes remain fixed on the beast, studying it. Calm. Analytical. Even as it releases a thunderous roar that sends flame rolling across the battlefield.

The flames never touch him.

It’s as if the inferno parts around him.

And slowly—tensely—the crowd begins to understand.

This isn’t just a show of power.

It’s a reminder.

That the only one standing between them and annihilation…

Is him.

Alix hovers just above the scorched ground, his eyes never leaving the blazing lion-beast as it snarls and paces like a living furnace. Each of its breaths sends sparks rippling through the air.

But Alix?

He exhales once—slow, steady.

Then he speaks.

”Now I will show you...”

His voice rings clear across the battlefield.

”That you will not regret your decision.”

In an instant—

Fifteen Tier 5 skills activate at once.

Blades of radiant light spiral into his body—auras of strength, speed, clarity, willpower, durability, elemental resistance, and raw destructive might. Each skill pulses with a shockwave of force, pounding the ground like war drums.

The world bends around him.

His aura erupts.

Not rises—erupts. Like a volcano uncorked. Different elemental energy surge from him in every direction, rippling like solar winds. The sheer weight of it smashes against the beast’s oppressive aura… and matches it.

The Tier 7 guardian pauses.

Its molten eyes narrow.

The commanders back away instantly—instinct overriding pride.

”W-What is he doing?!”

”That’s not Tier 5 power—”

Alix drops to the ground.

Hard.

The stone cracks beneath his boots.

The beast roars—a column of fire screams toward him, powerful enough to incinerate a tier 6 in second.

Alix moves.

BOOM.

He vanishes from sight—instantaneous. A shockwave trails behind him as he rockets upward, spiraling past the fire with such speed the flames are sucked into his vacuum trail.

He slams a glowing palm into the beast’s shoulder from above—

BOOM.

The guardian stumbles. A Tier 7 beast staggers.

The battlefield shakes as Alix lands, boots grinding across scorched rock. Cracks spiderweb out from the point of impact. The heat rolls in waves, blistering, but his cloak doesn’t even ripple. His eyes remain locked on the guardian.

The Tier 7 beast snarls, molten saliva hitting the ground with a hiss. Then—

Its core flares.

Its mane flares out, no longer just fire plasma. The air warps, turning glassy around it. Symbols sear across its forelegs, chest, and jaws, arcane circuits pulsing with crimson light.

Then, with a sound like the sky tearing, the beast opens its maw.

And howls.

”TIER 6 SKILL: SOLAR ROAR.”

A massive sigil blazes into existence above the beast, rotating slowly—like a second sun. From it, rays of annihilation lance toward the earth. Each beam could vaporize fortresses, and a dozen rain down across the battlefield, targeting Alix with pinpoint fury.

The air superheats. Soldiers scream as heat washes over them despite their distance. Barriers melt. Even Tier 5 commanders are forced to shield themselves and thier units with everything they have.

Alix lifts his hand calmly.

”TIER 5 SKILL: ARCANE GLACIER.”

The ground beneath him erupts in a towering wall of ice—but not normal ice. This is crystallized mana, refracting light like a prism, strengthened by his buffs until it’s nearly unbreakable. The first solar beam crashes into it—

BOOOOOOM!

The explosion is apocalyptic. A deafening detonation rips through the battlefield, sending a pressure wave that can flattens a huge mountain. Ice shards fly like shrapnel, but Alix is already gone.

Above.

”TIER 5 SKILL: STORMFALL ASCENT.”

Wind gathers beneath his boots—real wind, not summoned, but bent to his will by the raw power of his buffs. He soars upward, dodging a second solar lance by inches. The beam slices the sky like a sword, vaporizing clouds and igniting the upper atmosphere.

Alix flips midair.

”TIER 5 SKILL: VOLT STRIKE.”

His fist sparks, charged with thunder and force. He drops like a meteor, his body wrapped in a storm. Lightning crackles across the battlefield as he slams into the beast’s back.

KRAKOOOOOM!

The impact is catastrophic.

The beast howls in agony, thrown off balance as arcs of electricity sear through its molten skin, disrupting the circuits still glowing across its body. The sigil in the sky flickers—but does not vanish.

The guardian whips around, jaws snapping.

But Alix is already moving.

”TIER 5 SKILL: PYRE SPHERE.”

A compact orb of red-gold flame swells in his palm—denser than it has any right to be. Buffed with element-enhancing buff skills, it radiates Tier 7 pressure.

He hurls it point-blank into the beast’s eye.

BOOOOM!

The explosion throws the guardian backward, half-blinding it. Its mane flares wildly, a flare of white-hot plasma trying to incinerate everything around it. Alix raises both hands—

”TIER 5 SKILL: EARTHMAW.”

The ground responds instantly, opening like a beast’s jaw. Twin pillars of stone erupt around the guardian’s legs, slamming together and pinning it mid-lunge. For a split second, the Tier 7 creature is trapped—its own mass straining against the bind.

Everyone’s silent.

The shock still hangs in the air—raw, palpable. No one dares speak as the battlefield trembles from the echo of Alix’s last blow. Even the wind holds its breath.

Then—

Brakar leans closer to Lathar, his voice low, still laced with disbelief. ”Who would’ve thought he’s this powerful... He’s fighting a Tier 7 beast—and he’s gaining the upper hand.”

Lathar doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes are locked on Alix, still hovering like a living force of nature above the stunned guardian. His fingers flex slowly at his sides, knuckles tight.

Then he says, voice quieter now. ”Do you think our decision... to betray Lord Veyrith… was right?”

Brakar breathes out hard through his nose, glancing away for a moment as if weighing something heavy.

”You know we respect Lord Veyrith,” he mutters. ”But we’ve been doing this fighting Astram forces like it’s our curse. For how long now? Ten years? Fifteen? How many comrades have we buried? How many brothers have we lost?”