Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

In the carriage, Velira lifts the curtain, her eyes burning as she sees the faces of her people shift from joy to dread. Cries ripple through the crowd as families search the ranks.

”Where is my husband?”

”My son! Where is he?”

”Lira! Lira, answer me!”

A woman collapses to her knees, clutching her baby as she wails, the warrior she searched for nowhere in sight. A boy screams his brother’s name until his voice cracks.

Velira’s chest tightens. Her lips tremble. She whispers, almost to herself, ”They were waiting for heroes.” Her hands ball into fists. ”And we brought them ghosts.”

Muv exhales, her voice low but steady. ”This is the truth of war, Lady Velira. Glory lasts a moment. Grief lasts a lifetime.”

Velira turns sharply to her, pain and anger mingling in her voice. ”Then what do I tell them? That their husbands, their sons, their daughters—died for nothing?”

Muv meets her eyes, silent for a moment. Then she says, calm but firm, ”You tell them their kin fought with courage. That they held the line when no one else would. That without their sacrifice, not even these thirty thousand would be alive to come home.”

Velira swallows hard. Her gaze drifts back to the crowd, where grief spreads like wildfire, swallowing the cheers that once filled the air.

The carriage rolls on, and Ironvale is no longer filled with celebration—only the sound of weeping.

----

Velira’s room is quiet, lit only by the warm glow of a single lantern on her desk. The heavy curtains are drawn, shutting out the night. She sits on the edge of her bed, still dressed in her travel-worn clothes, her armor discarded in the corner. Her hands tremble faintly in her lap as she stares at the floor, replaying the march through Ironvale over and over again.

The door creaks open.

”Velira.”

Her mother, Sozhifa, steps inside. But she is not as Velira remembers. The years of wear and exhaustion have peeled away, replaced by a youthful glow. Her figure is steady, her eyes sharp, her voice carrying the strength of one who has broken through to Tier 5. Her dark hair shimmers like silk, her skin smooth and radiant, and for a moment, Velira almost doesn’t recognize her.

”I heard what happened,” Sozhifa says softly, crossing the room.

Velira’s chest tightens. She lowers her head and whispers, ”Mother… I’m a failure.”

Sozhifa sits beside her without hesitation and pulls her into a gentle embrace. ”My child,” she murmurs, stroking Velira’s hair, ”don’t blame yourself. What happened was not your fault.”

Velira’s voice cracks. ”How can you say that? I led them out… and I brought back only ashes.”

Sozhifa’s hand lingers on her daughter’s shoulder, steady and warm. ”Can I tell you a story?”

Velira lets out a hollow laugh, trying to mask her grief. ”Are you going to tell me about you and father’s adventures again? Mom, I’ve heard them a hundred times.”

Sozhifa chuckles softly, her laughter youthful again, echoing like it once did years ago. ”Perhaps. But stories carry truths we forget.”

Velira turns to look at her, but her mother only smiles, her eyes bright.

Then Sozhifa tilts her head, a teasing note in her voice. ”Or maybe you’d rather tell me about that Alix boy. Did you two find each other again?”

At once, Velira’s face falls. Her breath catches, and she looks away, her throat tight. The silence in the room grows heavy.

”…I found Karnessa,” Velira finally says, her voice soft. ”On the battlefield.”

Sozhifa blinks, surprised. ”Oh… his monster slave?”

The words hang in the air, and Velira doesn’t answer, her expression shadowed. Realization flickers across Sozhifa’s face. She places a gentle hand on her daughter’s cheek.

”I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she says firmly, her tone shifting to reassurance. ”You said it yourself before—that boy is powerful.”

Velira closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. ”I want to believe that.”

Sozhifa draws her into another embrace, holding her tightly as though she could shield her from the weight of the world.

”My child,” she whispers, ”hope is sometimes the only weapon we have left. Don’t let it go.”

----

The next morning, Ironvale does not wake in peace.

The alarm bell tolls, its harsh clangor tearing through the dawn like a blade. Horns join the chorus, low and urgent, reverberating across the walls and towers of the city. Soldiers rush through the streets, dressed in armor, weapons clattering in their hands. Civilians push against each other in panic, children crying as families scramble for safety.

Velira jolts awake in her chambers. The sound is unlike the bells of ceremony or drills—this is the sound of invasion. Without hesitation, she throws open her window and leaps into the sky. The cold morning wind bites against her face as she rises, flying toward the city’s outer wall.

From above, she sees the chaos below: soldiers forming ranks at the gates, banners flapping, archers rushing to their posts, while Tier 4 and Tier 5 warriors gather like stormclouds on the battlements.

On the high walls, she spots her father. Velkain stands tall, his long coat whipping in the wind, a massive blade resting casually against his shoulder. Around him, Muv and two other Tier 6 warriors of the Ashedge Clan wait with grim expressions, their presences heavy enough to make the air seem to thrum.

Velira lands beside them, her boots striking stone. ”Father!” she calls, her voice strained. ”What is happening?”

Velkain doesn’t turn immediately. His gaze is fixed far beyond the walls, his sharp eyes narrowing at the horizon. Only when Velira steps closer does he speak, his voice low, carrying the weight of steel.

”The monsters,” he says. ”They’re moving this way. Ironvale may be their next target after Watervale’s fall.”

Velira looks past them, straining her sight. At first, there is only the pale haze of morning mist. Then—like an ink stain spreading across paper—the horizon darkens. A massive tide of movement, shifting and endless, begins to take form.

Her breath catches. ”That… that can’t be…”

Velkain lifts his blade, the air shivering faintly around its edge. ”It can. One million soldiers,” he says grimly. ”An army of monsters.”

The others—seasoned Tier 6 warriors hardened by decades of war—say nothing. Their silence speaks louder than any words.

Velira grips her fists so tightly her knuckles turn white. ”A million… against us? Against this city?”

Her father finally turns to her, his gaze sharp but calm, steady as stone. ”Do not falter, Velira. Fear spreads faster than fire. If you show weakness, the men will see it. And if they see it, Ironvale will fall before the first strike.”

Velira swallows hard, forcing her trembling legs to still. She nods, her voice firm despite the storm inside her chest. ”I understand.”

Velkain lowers his blade, pointing it toward the seething tide of monsters in the distance. His eyes narrow, a glint of cold recognition in them.

”Leading them,” he says, his tone sharp, ”is still Mhazul. His wounds are already healed.”

Velira stiffens. The name is enough to chill her blood. ”Mhazul…”

Velkain nods once, his gaze never leaving the advancing army. ”That’s the monster that killed Kore.”

Velira’s breath hitches. ”Clan Leader Kore… she was a very powerful Tier 6. How could—”

Velkain cuts her off, his voice heavy with restraint. ”I did some digging after her death. The reports claim Kore used a forbidden technique—one that pushed her strength beyond the limits. They say she reached quasi–Tier 7 in that fight.”

Muv frowns, arms crossed. ”Quasi–Tier 7?” She shakes her head slowly. ”That’s… nearly impossible. Even the Empire has no such method. If it did exist, they’d have already conquered another continent.”

Velira’s eyes dart between them, confusion and dread mixing in her chest. ”Then it’s false? She couldn’t have risen that high?”

Velkain exhales through his nose, his tone grim. ”More likely, she reached peak Tier 6. That’s the limit of what any forbidden art I know can achieve. Enough to burn your life away for a temporary surge. But still—” His hand tightens on the hilt of his blade. ”Even at her peak, she died by Mhazul’s hand.”

One of the other Tier 6 warriors, an older man with scars across his face, mutters under his breath, ”If a peak Tier 6 can’t even wound him, then what are we standing on this wall for?”

Velira turns to him sharply, her voice trembling but firm. ”Don’t say that. If we break before the battle starts, Ironvale is already lost.”

Velkain glances at her, and though his expression is stern, a flicker of approval passes in his eyes. He lifts his blade again, pointing at the monstrous tide drawing nearer with every heartbeat.

”Whatever he is,” Velkain says, voice like iron, ”we will meet him here. On these walls. And if these monster thinks Ironvale will fall as easily as Watervale… he is mistaken.”

The horns blare again, and the sound rolls across the city like thunder. The tide of monsters draws closer—one million strong—led by a single figure whose shadow seems to swallow the dawn.