Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Chapter 283: Chapter 282: Wesian Kingdom, Raedel Kingdom, Ironfang Clan, Blackspire Kingdom, Calon Clan

The silence that follows is suffocating. The only sound is the faint crackle of fire in the sconces and the dull hum of power radiating from the four peak tier 6 guardians by the throne.

Alix’s gaze sweeps over them, unreadable. Shadows curl faintly at his shoulders, shifting as though alive. For a long moment, he says nothing, simply letting the weight of his presence settle deeper into their bones.

Then, at last, his voice comes. Calm. Low. Commanding.

”Rise.”

The single word cuts like steel.

The rulers hesitate, then obey, pushing themselves upright with stiff motions. Their heads remain bowed slightly, unable to meet his eyes for long.

Alix leans back slightly against his throne, one hand resting on its armrest. His gaze drifts across each of them as though measuring their worth.

”Welcome,” he says, his tone smooth yet carrying the weight of an ocean, ”to my kingdom.”

The words settle into their ears like a decree, making clear that this is no longer a visit. They are no longer sovereigns in their own right—they stand here as subjects who chose survival over defiance.

Alix’s eyes narrow, the faint shimmer of his horns catching the firelight. His voice rolls through the throne room, even yet implacable.

”You’re here to surrender?”

King Ravok of Wesia steps forward first. His cloak drags across the polished floor as he bows, voice firm though his hands tremble at his sides.

”Yes, Your Majesty. The empire... it seems they have abandoned us. We do not wish for our legacies to die meaningless deaths.”

Alix tilts his head, studying him like one weighs a coin. A faint curl tugs at his lips.

”Then you did the right thing. After all...” his gaze sweeps across them, sharp as a blade, ”...we were already planning to destroy the five of you.”

A murmur of unease ripples through the rulers.

It is Selira of Raedel who steadies herself enough to speak. Her silver crown gleams under the firelight as she lowers her head slightly, voice smooth, respectful, but edged with wariness.

”May we know... what we are to give up, should we join your kingdom?”

Alix answers without the slightest pause. His tone is calm, almost casual—yet each word strikes like a decree etched into the marrow of their bones.

”Nothing. Except this—you will mobilize your forces when I command it. You will pay me twenty million gold coins each month. And—” his gaze sharpens, voice sinking into something colder, heavier—”you will abolish the slavery of monsters from your kingdoms and clans. Permanently.”

The hall falls silent.

The image of their people dying, the screams of cities burning, flashes in each of their minds. Better to bleed coin than to bleed blood.

Gorvak of Ironfang finally breaks the silence. His tusks gleam as he lifts his head slightly, voice deep and gravelly.

”We already... did all that, before coming here, Your Majesty. There are no monster slaves in our lands now.”

Alix regards him for a long moment, then gives a slow nod.

”That is good.”

He shifts slightly, raising a hand. His voice cuts like a bell.

”Gander.”

A moment later, a figure enters the throne room. Cloaked in black robe, Gander strides with precision and kneels before the throne.

Alix’s tone softens just slightly, carrying a rare note of warmth.

”This is Gander, my trusted subordinate. He will lead you to the feast we have prepared for you five.”

The rulers bow their heads deeper, voices uniting once more in trembling gratitude.

”We thank His Majesty for his generosity.”

Gander rises, gesturing toward the great doors at the far end of the chamber. The rulers follow, their steps heavy, their minds still reeling.

----

Later, in a quieter chamber, Alix waits alone. The firelight from a single brazier casts long shadows against the walls. After some time, the door opens and Gander enters, bowing low.

”They’re gone now, your majesty.” Gander reports, his voice steady. ”I also gave them Tier 6 skill books. They said what we provided is more advanced than anything they currently possess. I mentioned, too, that with enough military points, they can exchange for Tier 7 skill books.” A small smile crosses his face. ”That... excited them more than anything else.”

Alix nods, his expression unreadable. ”Good. That should be enough to push them into action. If they’re motivated by strength and survival, they’ll turn their blades against their former allies soon enough.”

Gander inclines his head. ”They will, Your Majesty. The promise of Tier 7 power is more than enough bait. They won’t hesitate.”

Alix leans back slightly, shadows curling around his frame. His tone is calm, but final.

”Then let them prove their loyalty in blood.”

---

The news spreads like wildfire. The surrender of the five lower-ranked forces carries across the continent—through whispers in taverns, shouts in marketplaces, and sealed reports on noble desks.

In the council hall of the rest of the remaining forces, voices rise in fury.

”They dared to announce it like it was a triumph!” one minister spits, slamming his palm against the table. ”Celebrating their surrender as though it were a gift to their people?!”

Another councilor shakes his head, face pale. ”Not only celebrating. They promised prosperity. Claimed their clans and kingdoms will grow stronger than the empire itself under the monsters’ rule.”

The chamber erupts.

”Lies!”

”Madness!”

”Traitors!”

Yet, beneath the outrage, unease takes root.

Reports arrive days later—letters smuggled from common folk.

A nervous scribe reads aloud, his voice faltering:

”The citizens... at first they were terrified. But nothing happened. No executions, no destruction. Only monsters arriving in their cities, patrolling the streets. The leaders ordered them to be respected. And now... it is the people who bow.”

The room falls into stunned silence.

Finally, a general growls, his jaw tight. ”So their people live. Their cities stand. And ours...?” He doesn’t finish the thought, but the bitterness hangs heavy.

A younger officer mutters, unable to contain himself. ”If their kingdoms are not burning... then how long before our own people start to wonder if surrender is the wiser choice?”

The question lingers, unspoken yet undeniable, as the news continues to ripple outward—toward the nine remaining forces, and finally, the empire itself.

----

The next day, the world wakes to another storm of news.

From the central squares of Wesian Kingdom, Raedel Kingdom, Ironfang Clan, Blackspire, and Calon Clan, great platforms are raised. Banners unfurl, crowds gather, suspicion and fear hanging in the air like a thick fog.

King Ravok of Wesia steps forward first, his armor gleaming, his voice amplified by magic.

”People of Wesia,” he declares, lifting his hand, a surge of aura radiating outward like a wave. Gasps ripple through the crowd as the unmistakable presence of a peak Tier 6 settles over them, heavy and suffocating. ”As of today... I have ascended.”

The crowd stares, stunned. For decades, his progress had stalled. Now, overnight—

Ravok’s voice grows firmer. ”This breakthrough... is not mine alone. It is a gift. A gift from His Majesty Alix, the King of Monsters.”

Whispers ripple, some in awe, some in disbelief.

From another platform, Selira of Raedel Kingdom speaks, her silver crown catching the sunlight. Her aura flares, sharp and crystalline, settling like a blade over the square. ”I, too, have stepped into the peak of Tier 6. This is proof of his Majesty’s generosity. Proof that our alliance is not submission, but the key to prosperity.”

The crowds murmur louder now.

In Ironfang clan, Gorvak spreads his arms wide as his monstrous presence pours over the city, making warriors tremble. ”I have broken my chains! Power that the empire denied us—His Majesty granted in a single night! Tell me, who is stronger? The empire who abandoned us? Or the king who raises us higher?”

Cheers erupt among the clan members, the sound rolling like thunder.

In Blackspire Kingdom, King Malrik’s cold, sharp aura seeps through the streets, frost shimmering in the air. His voice is steady, commanding. ”The empire sent nothing but taxes and chains. The king of monsters gave us freedom... and strength. Remember this well: our future no longer lies in their shadow.”

And in Calon Clan, Lord Kaelen stands at the gates of his fortress city, lightning crackling faintly at his fingertips as he lets his aura crash over the gathered soldiers like a storm. ”Brothers, sisters—this is no trick. His Majesty’s promise is real. I was stagnant for years. Now, I stand as peak Tier 6. You will see more. You will see all of us rise higher than the empire ever allowed.”