Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Grathum raises his axe to meet it, the relic still thrumming in his veins. Steel and fire collide with a blast that levels half the ridge. The magma giant skids back, his arms trembling, flesh burning despite his stone skin. He snarls, coughing embers, but still he stands.

"Is that all, human?!"

Above, Velira lashes out. She twists her body, wings cutting the air as she channels her relic once more, condensing storm and wind into a spiraling spear. She hurls it through the inferno—only for Vernoso's fire-law to devour it midway, shredding the attack to sparks.

Vernoso laughs, the sound cruel and ringing.

"No matter what you carry, you're still insects scratching at a dragon's scales."

But the laughter hides calculation. He isn't using his true art yet—his single Tier 7 skill, a trump card he hoards for the moment of absolute necessity. Until then, he wields only raw law, shaping it like a hammer and flame. Even that is enough to suppress two peak-tier 6 monster.

Vernoso steps forward, his aura swelling like a volcanic tide. Fire-law coils around him, threads of molten truth bending to his command. His smirk returns, cold and vicious.

"Struggle harder," he sneers, voice dripping with contempt. "It only makes your end more entertaining."

The air shudders as two blades of living fire burst into being, forged from the very Law of Fire. They hover at his side, edges shimmering so hot the air warps around them. Unlike conjured weapons, these are not mere constructs—they are extensions of law itself, each stroke carrying weight far beyond Tier 6.

Velira's eyes narrow, lightning rippling violently across her scales.

"Tssk…"

Grathum's jaw clenches, magma dripping like blood as he hefts his axe.

"He's done playing."

Vernoso flicks his wrist, and the two swords streak forward—faster than thought, faster than sight. The valley shrieks as reality itself tears under their speed.

For the first time, both falter.

Grathum swings desperately, his axe howling as magma surges to meet the first blade. Velira coils, stormlight wrapping her form as she dives to intercept the second.

And in that instant—

The air fractures.

Zurrak erupts from the folds of space, his body tearing free from shadow, void-fangs gleaming with a hunger older than stars. He slams into Vernoso's flank with bone-shattering force, ripping across the man's face.

"GRRRAHH!"

Vernoso reels, his concentration breaking. The fire-swords veer, their perfect arcs shattering into chaos.

Grathum roars, twisting his axe at the last heartbeat. The redirected sword slams into the earth behind him, exploding into a molten crater. The land convulses, a lake of lava swallowing everything in a hundred-meter span.

Above, Velira shrieks, her wings thrashing storms into the sky as she diverts her blade skyward. It cuts through the clouds instead, splitting the heavens with fire and lightning.

The valley is torn apart—yet the two monsters stand, barely breathing, battered but alive.

And Vernoso?

Blood drips down his cheek in a jagged line, the mark of Zurrak's fangs carved deep across his face. His smirk is gone. His eyes blaze with unrestrained fury.

"You…" His voice shakes, not from fear, but pure wrath. "A Tier 6 insect… dared… to scar me."

Vernoso's aura explodes, the ground liquefying under his feet. Fire roars skyward, blotting out the horizon, his control unraveling beneath the storm of his anger.

Grathum braces his axe, magma veins pulsing like drums.

"Looks like you pissed him off, mutt."

The ground shakes beneath Vernoso's fury. Fire-law streams from his body, weaving into dozens of burning weapons—swords, spears, halberds—each one a fragment of the world's truth sharpened into killing edge. They circle him like a crown of destruction, their heat so intense the ridge itself begins to sag and melt.

Velira narrows her eyes, stormlight flashing violently across her scales.

"He's turning the battlefield into his forge…"

Grathum bares his fangs, driving his colossal axe into the molten ground as magma surges through his veins. His voice thunders like an eruption.

"Then steel yourself—the true battle begins now!"

The first volley comes—a rain of fire-lances shrieking through the air.

Velira surges forward, wings thrumming as she whips a hurricane wall into being. Wind and lightning churn together, compressing into a spiraling barrier. The lances slam into it, breaking apart like arrows striking a stormcloud, though each impact rattles her bones.

"Hold!" she hisses, sparks flying off her body.

Grathum slams his axe into the ground, molten cracks racing outward. Lava erupts in a wave, consuming the fragmented lances and forcing Vernoso's second volley to swerve. His roar shakes the battlefield.

"Break against the mountain!"

And then—Zurrak moves. The Void Warg flickers in and out of sight, his body slipping between folds of space. He darts through the firestorm, tearing into the blind spots Vernoso leaves behind, each strike forcing the human to redirect one of his law-weapons.

Their rhythm takes form—storm, magma, void.

Velira's storm funnels Vernoso's weapons into narrow paths, Grathum's magma walls cut them down, and Zurrak darts through the chaos to harry Vernoso directly. Tier 6 skills, normally scattered and dissonant, weave together with surgical precision.

Velira coils above, drawing in the storm, her voice sharp with command.

"Now—Grathum, up!"

He thrusts his axe skyward, magma detonating along its edge. Velira dives at the same time, her storm lashing into the axe's swing. The two forces fuse—lightning carried on molten stone, a storm of fire and thunder crashing down toward Vernoso.

For the first time, his footing falters. He parries, yes—but his arm trembles.

Zurrak lunges from behind, void-coated claws raking across Vernoso's back. The wound is shallow, but it draws another hiss of pain.

"Keep pressing!" Grathum roars.

But Vernoso's laughter cuts through the roar of battle, bitter and sharp.

"Harmonize all you like—your combined strength is still no more than a needle stabbing at the sun!"

He thrusts out his hand, and half the floating weapons flare. Dozens of fire-blades scream outward at once, a storm of law so dense it blots out the sky.

The storm of fire-law cuts the sky open, and for a full minute the battlefield is nothing but light, heat, and chaos.

Velira dives and coils, her scales burning but her storms still alive, splitting weapon after weapon with raw lightning. Grathum's arms quake with strain as he meets blow after blow, his magma walls shattering under the weight of each flaming halberd. Zurrak flickers in and out of space, intercepting the strikes they cannot block, his void-soaked claws tearing away at the edges of fire-law before it can reach flesh.

But even harmony has limits.

A single spear of law pierces through, too fast, too sharp. It smashes into Grathum's chest, hurling the magma giant backward. Blood mixed with molten stone sprays from his mouth as he crashes into the ridge, gouging a crater into the earth.

Velira cries out, only to be struck by another blade across her flank. Her storm scatters, lightning dissolving as she spirals downward, wings flailing.

Zurrak leaps, intercepting a sword aimed for her heart—but it catches him mid-phase, burning through his hide. His howl splits the battlefield as void-light flickers from the wound.

The three crash back, beaten down, their breaths ragged, bodies trembling.

Vernoso floats above the ruined ridge, fire-law circling him like a crown of suns. His expression is one of contempt, not triumph.

"Pathetic. Is that all? You didn't even make me sweat."

He lets his fire blades hum louder, spinning into a halo of execution. His gaze sharpens, cold and merciless.

"But I will admit this—you three lasted longer than most Tier 6 trash. For that, I offer you a choice."

He spreads his arms, his smile cruel.

"Bow your heads. Become my pets. My slaves. Serve me, and I'll let you crawl beside me when I burn your king clean."

Velira, blood dripping from her mouth, lifts her head and laughs—low, bitter, but clear.

"Hahaha… are you even worthy? You can't hold a candle to His Majesty."

Vernoso's smile dies, his eyes narrowing into pure venom.

"Then die."

The circle of law-weapons sharpens, each blade vibrating with killing intent. In a single motion, they scream downward, a storm of fire sharper than inevitability itself.

And then—

CLANG.

Every blade freezes mid-air. Inches from flesh, from blood, they shudder as though seized by something greater.

A hand rests against one of them, calm, steady, unburned.

The figure wasn't there before. Now he is. Standing between Vernoso and the three, his back to them, his presence like a wall that cannot fall.

Alix.