Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Hezor drives his men back through the smoke-choked streets, every heartbeat a struggle against panic. Behind them, the roars of monsters echo, claws scraping stone, wings beating the air. The inner wall looms ahead—a last refuge, a last chance.

But then—shadows leap across their path. A dozen figures land before the retreating soldiers, steel gleaming, their cloaks marked in crimson. At their head stands Rirdon, his eyes burning like live coals.

Hezor freezes. "Rirdon…?" His breath catches; disbelief is written across his face. "By the gods—you—"

Rirdon raises his blade, the curved edge gleaming with fresh blood. His voice cuts like iron.

"You will not go anywhere."

The soldiers falter behind Hezor, staring wide-eyed at men they once called allies.

"Rirdon!" Hezor steps forward, sword half-raised but not yet swinging. "What are you doing?! Fight with us, help us defend!"

"Help you?" Rirdon snarls, his aura flaring crimson as he surges forward. His blade crashes against Hezor's, sparks flying. "You bastards let my clan die!"

Steel grates as they lock weapons. Hezor strains against him, teeth clenched. "That's not true! We send reinf—"

"LIARS!" Rirdon shoves him back with a roar, swinging again in a vicious arc that Hezor barely deflects. The impact rattles his bones. "If only you traitors sent reinforcements… if only you hadn't abandoned us to rot… my father would still live!"

Hezor staggers, regains footing, and slashes low. "Rirdon, listen to me! We—"

"Enough!" Rirdon twists, parries, then drives a boot into Hezor's chest, sending him skidding back across the cobblestones. His face is a mask of grief and fury, his voice breaking even as he bellows, "I will kill you, Hezor! I will kill you all and avenge my clan!"

Hezor spits blood, lifting his sword again. Around them, Red Ember warriors clash with his retreating soldiers—friend against friend, their shouts tangled with grief and rage.

"You think this will bring your father back?" Hezor growls, lunging forward, their blades ringing out again and again. "You think betrayal will heal your clan's wounds?"

Rirdon meets him head-on, eyes wet but unflinching. "No. But your blood will!"

Steel clashes, sparks falling like rain. Each blow is heavy with years of friendship turned to ash. Around them, soldiers cut one another down while the two men fight beneath the shadow of the burning city.

From high above, Alix watches it all unfold. The battlefield lies open before his eyes—walls crumbling, streets drowning in blood, men and monsters clashing until the city itself seems to scream.

Beside him, Mhazul's massive frame shifts, his four arms folded across his chest. His voice rumbles low, steady, like stone grinding.

"Your Majesty, looks like the fight is almost over."

Alix narrows his eyes. The air carries smoke, screams, and the taste of iron. He watches as Rirdon's crimson cloak whirls among the melee, his blade flashing against Hezor's.

"Yes," Alix says slowly, "it is. Although… it's quite strange their true leader hasn't shown himself yet."

Mhazul tilts his head. "Cowardice?"

"Perhaps." Alix's tone sharpens, his gaze cold. "But it doesn't matter. Once this city is broken, we march on the Myren Kingdom."

Mhazul bows his head slightly, satisfied with the certainty in his lord's voice.

Below, the clash between Rirdon and Hezor reaches its peak. Sparks fall like burning snow with every strike. Hezor fights with desperate strength, but desperation is not enough. A sudden feint, a brutal twist—Rirdon's curved blade drives through his guard, piercing deep into his chest.

Hezor gasps, blood spilling down his lips. His sword clatters against the cobblestones. "R…Rirdon…"

For the briefest heartbeat, Rirdon hesitates, his face trembling with both rage and sorrow. Then he rips the blade free, and Hezor collapses to the ground, eyes wide and unseeing.

The soldiers around them cry out, voices cracking in grief and terror. Some rush forward, only to be cut down by Red Ember warrior's steel. Others throw down their weapons, retreating into the smoke.

Alix leans back slightly, watching the young lord's lifeless form sink into the dirt. His voice is quiet, but edged with finality.

"It's over."

---

The heavy wheels of Alix's carriage roll over the broken stones of Duskwatch's gate. The city is silent now—its walls cracked, its streets littered with ash, bodies, and shattered steel. The only sound is the steady march of boots, monster and human alike, echoing through the ruined avenues.

At the inner square, five human leaders wait, their armor scorched from the battle but their posture straight as they step forward to greet their king.

Kaelen bows first, voice firm though his breath still carries exhaustion.

"Your Majesty, we have already gathered everything. All the gold coins this city could offer are here."

He gestures to the rows of chests stacked high, overflowing with gleaming coins.

Alix doesn't waste words. His eyes sweep once over the treasure, and then he lifts his hand.

A faint shimmer ripples in the air—then, in the span of a few heartbeats, every chest vanishes, leaving nothing but bare stone behind.

The soldiers—human and monster alike—freeze in place. They stare at the empty square, the impossible sight burned into their minds. Whispers stir, but no one dares voice them aloud. Not one of them asks how their Majesty does it. Some bow their heads lower. Others clutch their weapons tighter, awe written in their faces.

Alix lowers his hand, his tone calm and absolute.

"Prepare yourselves. We move at once. The next destination is the Myren Kingdom."

The words ripple through the gathered leaders and soldiers like a command carved in stone.

Selira inclines her head, her hair stirring in the breeze. "At once, Your Majesty."

Ravok cracks his stone-plated knuckles, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Finally. This is just a fantasy of mine to cave in the face of that arrogant bastard."

Alix's gaze sweeps over the men and women still combing through the city. His voice sharpens slightly.

"Take what you can carry—equipment, arms, supplies. Leave nothing useful behind."

Then, after a short pause, his tone hardens to finality.

"Except tier seven and above. Those, if they exist, remain untouched."

The leaders glance at each other. A ripple passes between them, but none question it.

Kaelen bows once more. "Understood, Your Majesty. Though… on this continent, I doubt there is a single tier seven relic to be found."

Alix nods faintly. "So do I. But doubt is not certainty. Be thorough."

He settles back into the luxurious interior of his carriage. Mhazul takes his place beside it, silent and imposing, his axes clinking faintly in the still air.

Orders are barked across the square, and soldiers scatter into the city once more, prying open armories, stripping fallen warriors of their gear, and carting away piles of weapons and armor. Monster troops heft what humans cannot, their claws and scaled backs burdened with the spoils of war.

The square empties into motion again, but the awe of what they just witnessed—the treasure swallowed in a single gesture—still lingers in the eyes of every soldier.

----

The march takes little more than six hour. Alix's army moves like a tide across the land, boots and claws pounding the earth in steady rhythm, banners whipping in the wind. Smoke already trails above the horizon when the capital of the Myren Kingdom comes into view.

From the carriage, Alix watches the walls bristle with soldiers. Arrows glint in the sunlight, siege weapons creak into place, and horns cry out their alarm. Yet as the first stones are loosed, as monsters batter the gates and soldiers clash steel upon steel, something is… missing.

Kaelen rides up alongside the carriage, his blade still dripping red from the last battle. "Your Majesty," he calls over the din of war, "it is the same as before. The king of Myren has not shown himself."

Alix's eyes narrow, his tone flat. "Another coward hiding."

Mhazul, towering at his side, lets out a rumble like distant thunder. "A kingdom without a king is already dead."

The siege is brutal but swift. The gates fall within the hour, monsters surging through the breach. Human soldiers pour in behind them, the clash echoing through the streets. Screams rise, fires spread, but resistance crumbles quickly without a leader to rally them.

By dusk, the banners of Myren are torn down, trampled into mud. Alix's carriage rolls into the capital's heart, flanked by columns of troops. The city square is already theirs. Corpses lie scattered, weapons abandoned, the proud defenses of the kingdom reduced to rubble.

Kaelen approaches once more, bloodied but unbowed. "It is done, Your Majesty. Myren is conquered."