Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Alix nods slightly.

”Morgro.”

The titan lifts his head, meeting his gaze with calm reverence.

”I have arrived to serve. Command me.”

Zevran’s jaw hangs open, eyes darting between Alix and the kneeling titan.

Mero looks like he’s trying to merge into the wall out of overwhelmed confusion.

Alix notices their stares.

He speaks simply.

”This is Morgro. One of my subordinates.”

Morgro remains kneeling, towering even in that posture, head bowed in absolute respect.

Zevran finally snaps out of his shock. He flaps his little wings hard, hovering beside Alix.

”H-Hello, Sir Morgro. I’m Zevran.”

His voice cracks halfway through.

Mero, still trembling but trying to keep his dignity, floats forward a little.

”G-Greetings, Sir Morgro,” he says.

Morgro turns his glowing eyes toward them. Despite being a walking mountain, his expression softens.

”It is nice to see…” his voice rumbles slowly, ”…that my lord is still taking new subordinates.”

Alix stands up from his chair, dusting off his sleeves like this is the most normal thing in the world.

”It can’t be helped, you’re all dead,” he says plainly. ”And I have to revive all of you with gold coins.”

Zevran freezes mid-air again.

Mero’s floating body wobbles like someone slapped him.

Morgro bows his head lower.

”Because we are incompetent, my lord. We failed to defend your kingdom.”

Zevran looks at Mero.

Mero looks at Zevran.

Both share the exact same expression, confused.

Alix waves a hand dismissively.

”Okay, let’s not talk about that.”

Morgro obeys instantly, closing his mouth with a soft, stone-like clack.

Zevran shrugs a little and mutters, ”I, uh… don’t really care,” before settling onto Alix’s shoulder, pretending he understands.

Mero, however, stares at the crack in space that is slowly healing itself.

He’s lived thousands of years.

He once served a Tier 8 master.

He has seen forbidden magic, calamities, and major events.

But reviving someone with gold coins?

Summoning a Tier 7 by ripping open space like paper?

Even his old master can only dream to do that.

And this young monster… does it casually.

Mero quietly lowers his gaze, a shiver running through his fluffy form.

Just how deep does his new master’s secret…?

He doesn’t ask.

He doesn’t speak.

He simply floats closer to Alix, silent and respectful.

Meanwhile, Morgro waits patiently for orders, kneeling like a fortress carved into the earth.

And in the quiet, Alix looks satisfied.

He has another pillar in his army now—

one loyal enough to kneel the moment he appears,

one strong enough to reshape the fate of a city.

And Zevran and Mero…

they finally start to understand.

Their master isn’t just strong.

He’s something else entirely.

----

Slofield City bustles with late-morning activity—market stalls opening, guards rotating shifts, merchants shouting over fresh produce.

Inside a modest but well-decorated manor, Baron Grel sits behind his desk, sipping warm tea while skimming through a stack of reports.

A trembling servant rushes into the room.

”B-Baron! Urgent news from the north!”

Grel raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. ”If it’s about bandits again, throw the report away. The last ’urgent’ one was a drunk farmer.”

”N-No, my lord. This one is real.” The servant swallows hard. ”Nam City… has fallen.”

The Baron’s hand freezes halfway to his cup.

”…fallen?” he repeats.

”Yes, sir.” The servant holds out the parchment with both hands, nearly dropping it. ”Razed. Destroyed overnight. The report says… monsters from the wilderness stormed the city and now occupy it.”

Grel snatches the parchment, eyes narrowing as he reads the details.

A slow grin spreads across his face.

”Well now… isn’t this interesting.”

He stands and walks toward the window, looking out over his quiet courtyard.

”From what I know,” he says thoughtfully, ”Duke Charles has been desperate to earn some merit… and Nam City was the perfect opportunity for him.”

He taps the parchment against his palm, smirking wider.

”If I present this before anyone else does… the Duke may be very pleased. He might even reward me.”

He turns sharply.

”Prepare the carriage. I will go to the Duke personally.”

The servant bows so fast he almost loses his balance. ”Y-Yes, my lord!”

”And send a hawk messenger ahead,” Grel adds, waving a dismissive hand. ”Let the Duke know I carry information he will want to hear immediately.”

”Yes, Baron!”

The servant rushes off.

Grel chuckles to himself, stroking his chin.

”Nam City falling to monsters… ah, what perfect timing.”

His smile deepens.

”This might be the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”

He adjusts his coat, straightens his badge of office, and strides out of the room with steady confidence—completely unaware that the ”monsters” now ruling Nam City are far more organized, far more loyal, and far more dangerous than he has ever imagined.

---

Grell’s carriage speeds through the Duke’s territory, dust trailing behind the wheels as his guards signal for the gates to open. Word of his arrival has already reached the manor.

By the time he steps out, the Duke’s head butler—an elderly man with a straight posture and eyes sharp enough to cut stone, waits at the entrance with a small entourage of servants.

”Baron Grel,” the butler says with a polite bow. ”His Grace has been expecting you.”

Grell lifts his chin, adjusting his coat with an air of importance. ”Good. I bring urgent news.”

The butler studies him quietly. ”So your messenger hawk suggested.” He turns, motioning inside. ”Please, follow me.”

They walk through the polished halls, portraits of past Dukes lining the walls, their gazes stern and disapproving. Grell keeps his shoulders squared, trying to look dignified rather than nervous.

Eventually, the butler slows his steps and glances at him from the corner of his eye.

”I must ask, Baron,” he says calmly, ”is the information truly as critical as your message implied? His Grace has cleared his schedule.”

Grell smirks, confident. ”More than critical. The Duke will want to hear this from no one else but me.”

The butler’s brows rise slightly. ”Very well.”

They stop in front of a tall set of double doors. Two armored knights stand guard, spears crossed.

The butler lifts a hand.

”Before you enter,” he says, voice low but steady, ”allow me to ask one thing.”

Grell turns, impatient. ”What now?”

”Is this information… verified? Not rumor, not exaggeration?”

Grell scoffs softly, patting the scroll tucked under his arm. ”Completely real. Nam City has fallen. Destroyed and taken over in a single night.”

For the first time, the butler’s neutral expression cracks—his eyes widening by the smallest fraction.

”…Nam City?” he repeats.

”Yes,” Grel says, feeling smug. ”I knew His Grace would want immediate information. That’s why I came personally.”

The butler straightens, all signs of casual calm gone. He knocks twice on the door.

”My Lord Duke,” he calls inward, ”Baron Grel has arrived—with news concerning Nam City.”

A moment of silence.

Then a deep voice answers:

”Let him in.”

The butler steps aside and gestures with a crisp bow.

”Please enter, Baron. And… choose your words carefully. The Duke values truth above all else.”

Grell nods confidently, unaware of the delicate political line he’s about to step on.

He takes a breath, pushes open the heavy doors, and steps inside—ready to deliver what he believes will be his golden opportunity.

----

Grell steps out of the Duke’s audience chamber with a broad, triumphant grin stretched across his face. The moment the door closes behind him, he lets out a slow breath, shoulders dropping in relief.

”That went… perfectly,” he mutters to himself, barely containing his excitement.

The head butler stands waiting precisely where he had been before—hands folded, expression composed. But his eyes sharpen as soon as he sees Grell’s satisfied walk.

”Judging by your face, Baron,” the butler says evenly, ”I assume His Grace was… receptive.”

Grell chuckles, trying—and failing—to hide his pride. ”Receptive? He practically thanked me personally. I brought him news before any other noble managed to sniff it out.”

The butler inclines his head slightly. ”That is good to hear.”

Grell leans closer, lowering his voice. ”Not only that—he gave me a task. A delicate one.”

The butler’s brows lift. ”Oh?”

”Yes. He wants me to investigate Nam City myself. Probe the situation.” Grell taps his temple. ”Find out how many monsters are in the city, who leads them, and how powerful they are.”

A slow smirk curves the butler’s lips. ”Well then, congratulations, sir.”