Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

The next day comes too soon.

The sky is still pale gray when the first horns of the monster camp blare across the plains, deep and thunderous. The sound rolls over Lefast’s walls like a tide of doom.

From the ramparts, bleary-eyed soldiers grip their weapons tighter. Some are still bandaged, others still reeking of smoke from yesterday’s fires, but every man and woman drags themselves into position.

”Already…?” one whispers, knuckles white on his bow.

Velira stands above them, cloak pulled tight against the cold dawn wind. Her face is calm, but her eyes burn with sleepless fire. ”Stand ready. They’re coming.”

And then—

The monster horde moves.

Nyssara is at the very front, her laughter cutting through the morning mist like steel. But today, her stride carries an edge of command. In her hands—no, around her—glows an object of power. A crystalline core throbs against her chest, and from it unfurls a translucent barrier of shifting mana, wrapping her and her vanguard like a dome of liquid light.

The shield hums, its edges rippling like water yet radiating a pressure that makes the defenders’ teeth ache.

”It’s… holding the mana of hundreds,” a mage mutters in shock. ”What artifact is that?”

Savon snarls, slamming his spear against the battlement. ”Doesn’t matter. Look at them—”

And indeed, the monsters march unflinching. Arrows rain down, sizzling against the barrier like sparks against glass. Fireballs and lightning bolts crash, yet the mana shield only shudders, dispersing each blow as though the attacks were nothing but ripples in a pond.

Nyssara throws her arms wide, her bladed limbs flashing in the dawn light.

”Humans!” she cries, her voice carrying even through the roar of the battlefield. ”Your tricks burn, your traps freeze—but today, nothing will stop us! Watch as your walls shatter under our storm!”

The shield-bearers slam their claws into the ground, roaring in unison, their voices joining Nyssara’s. Behind them, ogres pound their clubs against their chests, drumming a rhythm of war.

The barrier surges forward as the vanguard charges, an unstoppable wave of steel and flesh wrapped in shimmering mana. Arrows break, spells dissolve. When the first line of Lefast’s magic ballista bolts thunders down, the mana shield absorbs the impact with a pulse of blinding light—and keeps moving.

The walls tremble as the monster front smashes into the outer barricades. Wood shatters, flames erupt, and within moments the forward defenses are crushed under the weight of the advancing horde.

Odgif spits, gripping his axe. ”If that shield doesn’t fall, they’ll walk right up to our gates like it’s nothing!”

Odgif doesn’t wait for orders. He yanks his war axe free, the blade already wreathed in a surge of crackling flame. With one great leap, the veteran launches himself skyward, his broad shoulders cutting a silhouette against the dawn light.

”Enough waiting! If that shield stands, the walls will fall. Muv—come!”

Muv is already rising, her staff glowing as the winds coil around her like living serpents. Her hair whips in the gale as she answers, voice sharp, steady.

”I’ll cover you. Let’s tear their advance apart!”

The two Tier 6 rise high above the battlefield, flames and wind twining in their wake like banners of war. For a heartbeat, the soldiers below look up—hope flickering in their tired eyes.

But the enemy is ready.

Two figures rise from the monster camp like shadows breaking free from the earth itself. Their pressure floods the sky, heavier than iron, heavier than stormclouds.

One is a hulking beast with scaled skin black as coal, his four arms gripping jagged cleavers that gleam with venomous light. His wings beat once, sending out a shockwave of foul air.

The other is a lithe, pale woman monster with hair like coiling smoke and six bone-white spears floating at her back. Her eyes burn like cold stars as her voice drips with contempt.

”You think you’ll cut down General Nyssara’s vanguard with that pitiful display?”

Odgif snarls, fire erupting along the edge of his axe. ”You bastards won’t reach those gates—not while I draw breath!”

The beast roars back, his voice booming across the battlefield. ”Then die screaming!”

The sky itself becomes a battlefield.

Odgif slams his axe downward, a wave of fire tearing through the air toward the scaled monster. The beast crosses his cleavers, absorbing the blow—but flames burst against his hide, leaving seared cracks along his armor-like flesh.

At the same instant, Muv spreads her hands wide. Her staff glows, and from the air above Lefast a storm begins to howl. Blades of wind form into spears, whistling down toward the pale woman.

But the spears meet their match. The bone-white lances around the woman flare, intercepting each strike with blinding precision. Shards of wind explode in bursts across the sky, scattering harmlessly into the distance.

”Fast,” the pale woman murmurs with the faintest smile. ”But I’m faster.”

Her spears whirl forward, streaking toward Muv. The wind mage twists her staff, summoning a cyclone in the nick of time. The first spear pierces the gale, but the second ricochets, the third shatters, the fourth tears through and grazes Muv’s shoulder. Blood splatters the sky.

”Muv!” Odgif bellows, trying to turn toward her—

—but the beast intercepts, roaring as he lunges. His four cleavers descend in a brutal arc. Odgif meets them with his axe, flame and steel colliding in a clash that rattles the heavens.

”Fight me, fire-bastard!” the monster snarls. ”Let the woman die alone!”

Below, the defenders on the walls watch with their breath caught in their throats as the four Tier 6 clash high above the battlefield, their power shaking the dawn sky.

Odgif’s flames carve through the clouds. Muv’s winds tear open the air itself. The two monster elites strike back with venom and bone, each blow strong enough to crush battlements.

Steel screeches. Fire roars. Wind screams. The sky itself seems to rip apart.

On the ground, the true disaster begins.

The monsters finally reach the gate. Their shield wall slams forward like a living battering ram, and behind it, Nyssara advances with her eight legs clicking against the stone. Her chitin gleams with a metallic sheen, ore-fed and hardened, each joint reflecting the dawn light like polished steel. In one hand she bears a broad, jagged shield of blackened metal, in her other limbs she carries the foldable weapons grown from her body—curved, segmented blades that unfold with a sickening, insectile sound.

Above her, soldiers rain arrows and oil, but it is useless.

”Shoot her! Focus fire!” a captain screams from the rampart.

Hundreds of shafts plunge down. Spells crackle against her. But the crystalline barrier from earlier still pulses, shielding the vanguard. Each attack fizzles out, leaving only sparks against the translucent dome.

Nyssara laughs, the sound sharp as broken glass. ”You cling to your walls like ants to a nest. I’ll show you how I break your nest!”

Her eyes flare, and mana courses through her body, rippling out in waves. The ground at her feet glows crimson as her veins of ore-born power ignite.

”Tier 5 Skill—Orebreaker Ruin!”

Her foldable limbs unfold to full length, anchoring into the ground. From her core, streams of molten mana surge, flowing into the weapons. The air thickens, shimmering with heat, the stone groaning as if in fear.

Then—she slams them forward.

The strike lands square on the gate. A shockwave ripples outward, a metallic roar splitting the air. The wooden and ironbound doors shudder, glowing red as the ore-forged energy seeps through their very fibers.

”Hold it! Brace it!” soldiers scream from behind, piling beams and shields to reinforce the gate. But it is useless—

The metal moans, warps, and then shatters.

The great gates of Lefast explode outward in a storm of iron shards and burning splinters. Soldiers are hurled back screaming, their armor crushed or seared by fragments.

”Gates down! They’ve breached!”

The roar of monsters answers like thunder.

Climbers surge up the walls, their claws tearing into stone as easily as a knife through clay. Some scuttle like spiders, dragging shrieking defenders off the battlements. Others leap high, sinking teeth into throats, dragging men down into the mass of the horde.

Nyssara steps through the ruined gate with her shield raised, her body-weapon limbs flexing, glinting. She cuts down the first desperate soldier who rushes her, her blade slicing clean through steel and flesh. Another swings a halberd at her flank—she pivots, her shield smashing him aside like a ragdoll.

”Pathetic.”