Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Chapter 236: Chapter 238: The Blacksmith Xansen

Alix inclines his head. ”Until now.”

Xansen turns away, staring into the embers of the forge. He breathes in the heat, then out with a slow sigh. ”Damn you, kid. You make it sound so easy.”

He glances back, eyes hard. ”But... if you truly have the means to take me the rest of the way—if you can give me access to the materials, all the knowledge I’ve been missing—then maybe it’s worth it.”

Alix offers a faint smile. ”I’ll send my best resources. You’ll never want for ore, runes, or recipes again.”

Xansen’s lip quirks into a grudging grin. ”Fine. I’ll join your... kingdom. But don’t think I owe you loyalty beyond my craft.”

Alix nods. ”Understood.”

Xansen grunts and scratches at his beard. ”So then... what’s the name of this mysterious kingdom of yours, Your Majesty?”

He says it with a half-scoff, half-smirk.

”You know,” he continues, tossing another log into the hearth, ”I’ve been around. Pretty familiar with all the kingdoms on this continent. Never heard of one with a brat like you on the throne.”

Alix’s face remains still. Calm. Almost too calm.

”That’s because...” he says quietly, ”my kingdom isn’t in this continent.”

Xansen pauses mid-motion, staring at him with a raised brow. ”What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alix says nothing at first. Instead, he closes his eyes for a brief second—and the air ripples around him.

A faint shimmer runs across his body. The subtle illusion fades.

The smooth skin of a human melts away to reveal faint, scaled ridges along his jawline. His eyes shift—irises glowing like molten lava, pupils thin and vertical. A quiet, inhuman stillness replaces the air he once carried.

The disguise is gone.

Xansen stares, mouth slightly open. He slowly takes a step back, hand instinctively drifting toward the hilt of a tool at his belt—but he doesn’t draw it.

”...You’re not human,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

Alix’s gaze doesn’t waver. ”No. I’m not.”

Xansen’s throat works in a slow swallow. The firelight flickers over his face, casting shadows that deepen the lines of age and hard-earned solitude.

Then Alix says calmly, ”Aren’t you the same?”

Xansen stiffens. His eyes narrow. ”What did you just say?”

”I know you’re not fully human,” Alix says, voice quiet but certain. ”You’re half monster.”

For a moment, the only sound is the crackle of the forge. Then, slowly—too slowly—Xansen’s expression twists. His skin pales, and a cold sweat beads on his brow.

A subtle tremor creeps down his spine.

”...How do you know that?” he says, low. ”I’m very careful about my identity.”

Alix shrugs lightly, his tone still calm. ”It doesn’t matter how I know. Let’s just say I have a way of seeing things others can’t.”

Xansen stares at him for a long, tense moment, the fire’s glow flickering in his eyes. Then, finally, he lets out a long sigh and lowers his gaze.

”Well,” he mutters, ”I guess there’s no point hiding it now.”

He glances up at Alix, a reluctant smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ”I’m half-monster. My father was one. Don’t know what kind, exactly. My mother never told me. Every time I asked, she’d just go silent—or get angry. Said it didn’t matter.”

Alix watches him quietly, his eyes calm.

”I only know he wasn’t human,” Xansen said.

Alix tilts his head slightly, eyes steady. ”Well, this is the first time I’ve seen a human and monster offspring.”

Xansen exhales, running a hand down his face. ”Yeah. That’s because it’s not normal.”

Xansen stares into the fire, his voice low and rough. ”Most humans don’t even believe it’s possible. But it is. Rare as hell—and even rarer that the child survives. I guess I got lucky.”

Alix narrows his eyes slightly. ”I’m just surprised you don’t have any monster traits.”

Xansen lets out a dry snort. ”Oh, I do. Especially the strength. It’s way beyond what any Tier 5 blacksmith should have.”

He pauses, then pulls back his shirt collar slightly, revealing a patch of dark, iridescent scales along his shoulder and collarbone. ”These cover most of my torso. Arms, legs too. I file the ones on my hands to keep them from drawing attention.”

Alix studies the scales, nodding. ”Resembles a scale. Maybe something reptilian in your bloodline.”

Xansen grunts. ”Maybe. I don’t know. My mother never told me what he was. Just said that I shouldn’t go looking.”

Alix crosses his arms and leans slightly against the worktable, eyes still locked on the faint shimmer of scales beneath Xansen’s collar.

”So that’s why you’ve been hiding,” he says quietly. ”Even with your skill... no one knows your name. No one even knows you’re capable of forging Quasi Tier 6 weapons.”

Xansen snorts under his breath. ”You’re right.”

He turns, grabbing a pair of tongs from the hearth, though he doesn’t use them—just holds them in his hands as if to ground himself.

”The only person I ever trusted with that truth is Velkain,” he mutters.

He exhales slowly. ”I’ve seen what happens when people like me get noticed. It’s never good. If they find out what I am—what I can do—they either try to chain it, use it... or erase it.”

Xansen lets the tongs rest on the worktable with a heavy clink, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

”I’ll come to you once I finish this blade for Velkain,” he says, voice quieter now, almost reluctant. ”Though, truth be told... it’ll probably end up another damn Quasi Tier 6. I’m close, but something always slips through my fingers.”

Alix nods. ”Alright. Just find me in the city when you’re done.”

As he says this, the air hums softly around him. In an instant, the same Tier 6 smithing technique that materialized earlier reappears in his hand—floating just above his palm, glowing faintly with arcane energy.

Alix steps forward and holds it out. ”Use this. It might help you succeed this time.”

Xansen’s eyes widen slightly as he stares at the technique. His breath catches.

”Are you serious?” he asks, voice rough. ”You’re just giving this to me?”

Alix’s expression remains steady. ”You’re part of my kingdom now, Xansen. That means you’re one of my people. And I take care of my people.”

Xansen doesn’t take the technique right away. He just looks at it, then at Alix.

But there isn’t one.

After a long pause, he slowly reaches out and takes it. The technique’s energy flickers as it touches his hand, as if responding to his presence.

He stares at it for a moment, almost reverent.

”...Damn,” he mutters. ”This is the real thing.”

Alix turns toward the door. ”When you’re done with Velkain’s weapon, come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

Xansen glances at him, then down at the glowing technique in his hand.

”For the first time in a long while,” he says slowly, ”I think I might actually pull it off.”

Alix glances back over his shoulder, a faint glimmer in his golden eyes.

”I know you will.”

After that, Alix leaves Xansen’s forge without another word.

The mountain air greets him outside—cool and quiet. He descends the narrow trail alone, the wind tugging gently at his coat. He doesn’t look back.

---

Over the next few days, Alix spends nearly all his time with Karnessa.

They train in quiet clearings just outside the city, often by moonlight. Alix teaches her how to better control her innate bloodline ability—how to feel the blood around her, not just within herself. How to sense it, manipulate it, and eventually, command it.

Each lesson is slow and deliberate. But Karnessa absorbs everything like dry earth drinking rain.

”Good,” Alix says one evening, watching as crimson threads coil from her fingertips into the dirt, controlled and precise. ”You’re not forcing it anymore.”

Karnessa pants softly, sweat glistening on her brow. ”I can feel everything now... the pulse in the insects, even birds overhead.”

Alix nods. ”You’re adapting faster than I expected.”

He’s not exaggerating. In just a matter of days, Karnessa has advanced to high-level Tier 3. Her aura is denser. Her movements sharper. Even the way she looks at people now—there’s focus in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

At night, Alix give her blood-based skills. Each one suit her innate ability. And each time he does, her control improves.

”Thank you,” she says one afternoon, wiping her palms clean after training. ”I’ll do my best to get stronger as soon as possible.”