Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

The day deepens. The sky hangs low with pale clouds as Sorin’s unit begins to march, quiet and steady through the old war-torn road that curves toward the City’s outer rim.

Inside one of the armored carriages at the center column, Sorin sits with Ruva across from her. The interior is dim but well-kept, the wooden walls padded with dark velvet, the iron-plated windows latched half-open for breathability.

Ruva sways slightly with the motion of the wheels, legs kicking idly as she looks out, then back at Sorin.

”So…” she says casually, then glances up with a grin. ”What exactly am I gonna do?”

Sorin doesn’t look up from the small map she’s reviewing. ”Kill everything you see.”

Ruva tilts her head. ”Oh? That’s it?”

”Pretty much.” Sorin flips the page. Then, after a short pause, she glances up. Her voice softens slightly. ”Wait… You’re okay with killing now?”

Ruva quiets.

She looks down at her gloves, flexing her fingers once. ”The first time I killed… it really made me uncomfortable. I kept thinking about their face. The way they fell. The sound they made.” Her voice drops to a murmur. ”I didn’t sleep much that night.”

Sorin doesn’t interrupt. She listens.

Ruva continues, slower this time. ”But… I needed to do it. If I wanted to help big brother. I didn’t want to just sit and wait anymore.” She raises her eyes—calm, determined. ”The more I fight… the more I get used to it. Doesn’t mean I like it. But I can do it.”

Sorin stares at her in silence for a moment. Then quietly says, ”Princess… Ruva. You’re very mature for your age.”

Ruva shifts in her seat, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She bites her lip, then mumbles, ”Big sister…”

Sorin lifts an eyebrow. ”Hm?”

”…Can you stop calling me ’princess’?” Ruva says shyly. ”Can you just call me, like little sister instead?”

For a second, Sorin doesn’t say anything. Her eyes soften.

Then she leans back and smiles—genuine, quiet.

”From now on,” she says, ”you’ll be my little sister.”

Ruva beams, cheeks red but glowing. ”Really?”

Sorin nods. ”But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because of that.”

”I don’t want you to!” Ruva says quickly, grinning. ”Big brother doesn’t either. He always says if I want to stand beside him, I have to earn it.”

Sorin chuckles. ”That sounds like him.”

The carriage rumbles onward.

For a while, there’s silence between them—calm, companionable. Outside, the steady rhythm of boots and wheels thumps like a heartbeat through the ground. Birds circle above the shattered watchtowers ahead.

After several hours of steady marching, the wind grows heavier with ash and steel. Distant horns echo from the old eastern towers—long, low, and grim.

They’ve arrived.

Phiving City stands tall ahead of them, its walls scarred but still imposing. The battlements are manned, and red banners wave overhead. Smoke curls from parts of the inner districts. The city is already on high alert.

Sorin stands at the front of the column now, her armored coat catching the wind, her gaze fixed on the looming city.

She doesn’t look concerned.

Of course they saw us coming, she thinks. We didn’t try to hide.

One hundred thousand soldiers at her back—monsters, beasts, war machines, and more—march in disciplined ranks under the obsidian banner of Alix. It would’ve been impossible not to notice.

Atop the walls, the defenders are moving quickly, signaling positions, archers lining up, mages starting to chant. Phiving’s garrison—seventy thousand strong—is already in place.

Ruva steps up beside her, shield slung over her back and hand resting lightly on her sabre.

”They look nervous,” she mutters, squinting at the wall. ”Think they’re gonna surrender?”

Sorin snorts once. ”No. They’re soldiers. They’ll fight.”

Sorin’s eyes remain on the city walls. ”Ruva.”

”Mm?”

”Stay close. And listen to my orders the moment I give them. No hesitation.”

Ruva blinks, then nods. ”Got it.”

A moment passes.

Then a voice speaks beside Sorin—her second-in-command, Lay, his gravel-toned voice low. ”Scouts report that the city’s outer traps are armed. Mana fields have been activated across the north towers. At least three Tier 5s confirmed. Possibly five.”

She turns around, her eyes sweeping across her army.

No horns. No speeches. Just a short gesture.

Lay sees it and immediately relays the signal.

Drums pound. Heavy, steady. Columns shift. Siege weapons begin rolling forward, and long-range casters fan out. Winged scouts rise from behind the second lines.

Massive wheels churn over dirt and stone as two siege weapons roll into position. Towering constructs of reinforced alloy and blackened wood, their frames groan with arcane weight. Each one is the size of a small house, covered in glowing etchwork and heavy chains. The air around them hums with barely contained mana.

”Siege Battery One and Two in position,” Lay reports, eyes flicking across the floating mana-visor affixed to his bracer. ”Mana stones are stabilized. Firing sequence ready.”

Sorin nods once. ”Destroy thier defensive shield. First unit—Fire. Second—Earth. Coordinate the blast window.”

From behind her, the high-pitched whine of mana alignment begins. One of the siege engines unfolds its stabilizer legs and locks into the soil with a deep thunk. The crystal core at its heart, a bright-orange mana stone, pulses brighter and brighter.

Then—

FWOOM.

A beam of fire erupts from the weapon’s cannon mouth, a pillar of blinding orange light roaring across the open field. The very air bends around it from the heat. It slams directly into the city’s mana shield—an invisible dome flaring instantly into view as the beam hits.

The barrier groans. Sparks cascade down like molten rain.

”Direct hit!” Lay calls out. ”Shield integrity down to sixty percent.”

”Second siege—fire,” Sorin commands.

The second siege weapon shifts. Earth mana builds, swirling around the glowing green core embedded deep within its chassis. A heavy tremor rolls beneath the ground as the cannon locks on target.

With a thunderous CRACK, it fires—not as a beam, but a massive projectile of compressed earth shaped like a jagged boulder the size of a house. It spins through the air, trailing dust and chunks of rock before smashing into the same weakened spot in the shield.

The barrier shrieks this time, flashing a blinding green before fracturing like glass under pressure.

”Shield integrity down to thirty percent!” Lay reports, eyes flicking again to the readouts. ”Another hit will collapse it!”

The defenders do not wait.

The moment the second blast strikes, the walls of Phiving erupt in a counteroffensive. Arrows darken the sky—thousands of them, fired in disciplined volleys from archer units lined along the battlements. Behind them, spellcasters raise their hands, mana swirling in practiced rhythm as runes form across their palms.

”Return fire!” comes the cry from the city’s General atop the central tower.

Dozens of offensive spells blaze out from the high wall. Fireballs, arcs of lightning, compressed blades of wind—each aimed not at the approaching soldiers, but at the siege weapons.

”They’re targeting the engines!” Lay growls.

Even as he speaks, a firebolt screams through the air, striking just meters from one of the siege machines. The blast rocks the frame, but it holds steady—though the armor plating now glows red-hot from the impact.

A second spell—an ice lance this time—flies straight toward the Earth siege cannon.

But it never lands.

A shimmering blue barrier flares up in front of the weapon just in time, absorbing the ice projectile with a hiss of frost.

Behind the siege line, a group of monster mages—hulking forms with four arms and reptilian skin—stand in rigid formation. Their hands are outstretched, eyes closed, chanting in perfect synchronicity as mana streams from their cores into a wide protective shield.

One of the lead mages, a long-horned spellcaster in layered violet robes, opens his eyes just enough to speak.

”Shields holding.”

”Good,” Sorin says calmly, without turning. ”Maintain formation. Prepare to fire again.”

Arrows thud into the shield barrier, bouncing off harmlessly or disintegrating on impact. But the pressure mounts—more spells come, faster this time. A coordinated lightning chain arcs across the mana barrier and flickers dangerously close to one of the casters.

”Reinforce the left sector!” the horned mage snaps.

The left flank mages adjust, growling low, their aura expanding as they pour more mana into the shimmering wall.

”Wow… they’re so cool,” Ruva says in awe, eyes wide as she watches the monster casters at work.

Sorin’s voice is calm and steady. ”They’re graduates of the Celestia Magisterium Academy. Don’t look away—watch how they balance their mana flow under pressure.”

A deafening BOOM echoes as another human spell detonates near the siege cannon, this one a multi-rune blast of wind and fire. The explosion sends a shockwave across the field, flattening nearby trees and tossing light infantry off their feet.

But again, the shield holds—cracked, sparking—but unbroken.

With another fire from the siege weapon, the barrier finally shatters.

The dome of mana that protected Phiving explodes in a bloom of light and whistling static. Fragments of the magical shield burst outward like shattered glass, disintegrating mid-air with a sharp, unnatural screech. A tremor rips across the battlefield as raw mana diffuses violently into the atmosphere.

Sorin doesn’t hesitate.

”Shield is down,” Lay confirms.

Sorin raises her hand. ”Frontline units—advance. Push forward. Shield formation!”

The order thunders down the ranks like a rolling quake. Giant war drums beat in sync, and at once, the monster army surges.

In the vanguard, shield-bearers—massive, hulking monsters in full-plate, their bodies wrapped in enchanted iron and reinforced shields, slam their tower shields into position. Each shield glows faintly with defensive runes, forming an impenetrable wall of steel and magic.