Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Second Peak, the Azure Lotus Palace.

A palace shaped like flowing water—smooth curves, glass-like halls, and floating gardens connected by suspended bridges. Mana streams flow like living rivers.

Inside a serene meditation chamber perfumed with rare petals.

Marshal Vanthe sits cross-legged, surrounded by rippling blue lotus petals that dance in the air.

Elegant.

Calm.

Cold.

A female attendant kneels, head lowered.

”My lord… Duke Charles has reached Luminaris. He did not come alone. Knight Virtil is with him.”

Vanthe opens his eyes slowly, revealing pupils that glow faintly blue.

”Virtil?” he repeats softly.

The petals in the air flutter and then fall lifelessly.

”…Charles moves sooner than expected.”

He stands, brushing a lotus petal from his robes.

”Let us see,” he murmurs, ”whether the Duke comes to plead… or to provoke.”

---

Third peak, the Scarlet Serpent Palace

The last peak burns with red lanterns and golden tiles. The palace glows like a den of indulgence, music drifting through the halls, laughter echoing, the scent of wine carried on the wind.

Inside the central chamber—

Silk curtains sway.

Incense smokes.

And dozens of beautiful women lounge on cushions, surrounding a man reclining lazily on a throne-like couch.

Marshal Stegran.

The most unpredictable of the three.

A man whose charm hides a venomous mind.

Stegran lifts a wine cup lazily as a trembling servant rushes in.

”My lord! Urgent report!”

Stegran waves a hand without looking.

”Speak.”

The servant gulps.

”D-Duke Charles has entered the capital. And alongside him is—”

”Knight Virtil,” Stegran finishes.

He sets his wine down, a slow smirk curling his lips.

The women around him fall silent as his aura subtly tightens the room.

Stegran stretches his arms behind his head.

”Oh, my old friend Virtil…”

His eyes gleam with quiet amusement.

”You finally came to the capital.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous.

”And if Virtil is here, then Charles isn’t paying a friendly visit.”

One of the women leans closer, voice soft.

”Lord Kael… is that bad?”

Kael taps her forehead gently.

”Not bad, my dear.”

He smiles—a smile that sends a shiver through the room.

”Interesting.”

----

Every knight guarding the entrance stiffens. Some instinctively lower their heads; others grip their spears tighter just to stop their hands from trembling. The air grows heavier, older, like an ancient beast has awakened among them.

But Charles moves as though nothing is amiss.

He walks toward the palace gates.

They open immediately.

Guards form lines on both sides, saluting with military perfect precision.

”Welcome back to the palace, Duke Charles!”

”Sir Virtil… w-we greet you!”

Virtil only nods once, expression unreadable.

Charles steps past the gates, and a blur of pink and gold shoots toward him.

”UNCLE CHARLES!”

Before he can react, a small body slams into him with the force of an affectionate catapult.

Charles lets out a surprised laugh as he catches the girl mid-air.

”Careful, careful—Mili, you’re going to knock me over one of these days.”

Princess Mili hangs from his neck like a clingy squirrel, bright eyes sparkling, long golden hair tied with ribbons that bounce every time she moves. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement.

”You finally came! You finally decided to visit us again!” she says, voice bursting with joy.

Charles chuckles.

”What? Didn’t I just visit you last month?”

”That was soooo long ago!” Mili insists, puffing her cheeks.

”You promised you’d show me more sword techniques!”

Charles lifts an eyebrow, amused.

”I had a territory to run, you know.”

Mili opens her mouth to argue again—

”Ahem.”

A calm voice cuts in from behind her.

She freezes.

Slowly… reluctantly… she looks back.

Standing a short distance away is a young man in royal blue robes embroidered with golden phoenix patterns. His expression is composed, elegant, yet unmistakably strict.

The crown prince.

Twenty-one years old, tall and sharp-eyed. His presence has the quiet authority of someone born to rule.

”Mili,” Ashan says, voice steady. ”You shouldn’t be doing that anymore. Jumping onto Duke Charles like a wild kitten… You’re already fifteen.”

Mili’s cheeks turn fire-red.

”I—That—It’s different! Uncle Charles doesn’t mind!”

Ashan sighs.

”That is not the point.”

Charles lets Mili slide down gently, though she clings to his arm like it’s her lifeline.

He smiles at the crown prince.

”You’re sounding more and more like your father every time I visit.”

The prince’s stern expression softens a little.

”Uncle Charles, welcome back. Father will be glad to hear you’ve arrived.”

Charles inclines his head.

”My brother is in good health, I hope?”

Ashan hesitates.

Just for a moment.

It’s brief, barely noticeable, but Charles sees it. The tightening of the jaw, the subtle shift in his eyes. A worry he has carried too long for his age.

”Yes,” Ashan finally answers, ”although he’s not getting better… he is stable right now.”

Princess Mili lowers her head, biting her lip.

Charles’s expression softens.

His older brother, King Verus, has been bedridden by an unknown disease no healer, priest, or mage can identify.

A sickness that ignores potions.

A sickness that laughs at divine blessings.

A sickness that remains, unmoved, unbroken, devouring slowly.

Charles nods quietly.

”Stable is good,” he says.

”But I’ll go visit him.”

A breath of relief escapes Ashan’s shoulders.

”He’ll be happy to see you,” the prince says. ”He’s been asking about you often.”

Mili tugs on Charles’s sleeve.

”Father tries to act strong,” she murmurs, eyes dimming, ”but… he coughs a lot now. And he sleeps too long. Sometimes he forgets to eat unless someone reminds him.”

Ashan gently places a hand on her head.

”Mili.”

She bows her head, going silent.

Charles puts a steadying hand on her shoulder.

”I’m here now,” he says warmly. ”Your father… my brother… won’t face this alone.”

Mili nods, wiping her eyes quickly so the servants won’t see.

Virtil, who has been silent the entire time, finally speaks. His voice is low, respectful, but edged with ancient gravity.

”Your Majesty’s condition worsened since my last visit, I assume?”

Ashan nods.

”Yes… but it began stabilizing three months ago. The physicians believe the disease has entered a dormant phase.” His gaze drops, voice quieting.

”Though no one can explain why.”

Charles and Virtil exchange a look.

Something about a disease stabilizing without treatment.

That is rarely a good sign.

Charles exhales slowly.

”Take me to him.”

Ashan gestures for them to follow.

They move through the inner palace, a place far quieter than the bustling outer halls.

Curtains drift softly from open windows. Sunlight spills onto polished marble floors. The air smells faintly of rare incense meant to purify mana, an expensive precaution.

As they walk, servants and knights bow deeply. Some glance in awe at Virtil. Others steal worried looks at Ashan and Mili, sensing the tension that blankets the group.

Finally, they reach a pair of tall, silver doors engraved with the crest of the royal lineage.

Two elite royal knights stand guard, low tier 6 warriors, but even they straighten stiffly once Virtil steps closer.

Ashan places his hand on the door.

He pauses and looks back at Charles, voice soft.

”He’s awake right now… but he gets tired easily. Don’t be startled if he looks… different.”

Charles nods.

”I’ve seen him at his worst,” he replies. ”I can handle the rest.”

Ashan slowly pushes the doors open.

The royal bedchamber reveals itself.

Grand… yet painfully quiet.

Golden curtains drape around a large canopy bed. Warm sunlight filters through mana-treated glass, casting a gentle glow on the pale figure lying against the cushions.

King Alden.

Once a warrior-king with a voice that shook the capital, now thinner, paler, his once-bright silver hair dulled to a faded ash. His breathing is steady but shallow, his skin carrying a faint bluish undertone.

Yet when he sees Charles…

His dull eyes sharpen.

”Charles…?” he rasps, sitting up with effort.

Charles steps forward, a tightness forming in his chest.

”It’s me, brother.”

Alden lets out a soft, breathy laugh.

”You always… take your time coming back.”

Charles kneels beside the bed, steadying his brother’s arm.

”You’re still breathing, so it seems I wasn’t late after all.”

Alden chuckles again—weak, but genuine.

Mili rushes forward, hugging her father’s arm gently.

Ashan stands at the foot of the bed, quiet and composed, though his eyes betray relief.

Virtil approaches last, bowing slightly—not out of obligation, but respect earned through decades.

”Your majesty.”

Alden smiles faintly.

”Sir Virtil… it’s good to see you again. The last time I saw you, I was still a prince.”

Virtil exhales a soft, weary chuckle.

”The heavens must not want me yet.”