Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Each one is Tier 5.

Each one radiates an overwhelming elemental presence that makes even the barrier hum in warning.

The first sigil blazes gold-red with roaring heat:

"Tier 5 Skill — Solar Break."

A sunlike orb begins forming at its center, pulsing violently with compressed fire and light. The very air around it distorts.

The second sigil crackles with chaotic arcs of white-blue lightning:

"Tier 5 Skill — Thunder Crown."

Bolts flicker outward, coiling around Alix's body like living serpents, his aura flashing with electrical rage.

The third—

Dark green and earthen, its center swirling with gravity-defying shards of stone and crystal:

"Tier 5 Skill — Gaia's Edge."

The ground trembles beneath them as jagged spears of earth rise silently, poised to strike at command.

Alix doesn't say a word.

He just looks at Lathar.

The commander stares at the three sigils—his jaw tight, sweat rolling down his brow despite the cold.

He takes one step back.

Then another.

His body stiffens. Soul instincts scream louder than logic. Every fiber in him says run.

The moment all three Tier 5 skills begin to stabilize in the air behind Alix—each one primed for simultaneous cast—Lathar lifts both hands with a sharp intake of breath.

"Okay!" he barks. "Okay, okay, you win! I admit defeat!"

The skills freeze.

The glowing sigils hold a moment longer—then slowly dissipate, absorbed back into Alix's control.

Silence.

Lathar exhales heavily, eyes wide, chest rising and falling.

"…You were really going to use all three at once," he mutters, voice dry.

Alix gives a faint shrug. "You said don't expect you to play nice."

A long pause.

Then—Lathar lets out a quiet, incredulous laugh. "That wasn't nice. That was insanity. If you'd fired those off at once… not even ashes left."

The barrier drops.

Gasps and murmurs ripple through the watching crowd. Monsters stare in stunned silence.

The feline gapes. "Did… did the commander just give up?!"

The insectoid twitches nervously. "That wasn't a spar. That was a display of power."

One of the scouts mutters, "Three Tier 5s at once… No chant… No strain…"

The feathered oracle bows her head slightly. "This Alix… is not someone you measure by rank alone."

Back in the ring, Lathar walks over and claps Alix's shoulder—still catching his breath.

shakes his head. "Although, I'm seriously impressed. You conjured three Tier 5 skills—simultaneously—and not just junk skills either. Each of those was lethal on its own."

Alix says nothing, simply returning the nod with a calm, unreadable look.

Lathar continues, "I've fought monsters, assassins, even a damn storm elemental once. But I've never seen someone cast like that. No chant. No delay. No instability. That's not normal. That's surgical."

He gives Alix a sideways glance, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "Honestly… I want to ask how the hell you pulled that off. What kind of training are you working with? But I'm guessing you don't feel like sharing."

Alix's expression barely shifts. "I can't."

Alix thought, 'Even if I wanted to, I couldn't teach it to others. After all, it's not training—it's just the system being different.'

Lathar smirks. "Yeah. Thought so."

He straightens up, his tone turning brisk again. "Anyway, we need to move. If you're still set on meeting the leader, this is the moment. You won my respect—and everyone's attention. That's enough to grant you an audience, no questions asked."

He gestures for Alix to follow, turning toward the edge of the clearing. The crowd silently parts for them, watching with a mixture of awe and wariness.

Lathar leads him to a shadowed alcove behind a cluster of fractured stone pillars. Embedded in the ground is a circular platform, etched with glowing runes pulsing faintly with teleportation magic.

He steps onto it, motioning for Alix to do the same.

"Teleport gate to the main base," Lathar explains, placing a hand against one of the sigils. "Takes us straight to the main base. The leader doesn't like wasting time, and trust me, after what you just showed… he'll want to see you immediately."

Alix steps onto the platform beside him, and the air begins to hum.

With a low pulse of energy and a flash of light, the teleportation sigils activate—and they vanish.

Shortly after, Alix finds himself engulfed in a swirl of color and pressure, like being squeezed through a tunnel of raw mana. Then—with a subtle pop—the world stabilizes around him.

He blinks once.

They're standing in a vast, domed hall flooded with movement and light.

Crystalline panels line the ceiling, refracting sunlight into cascading rainbows across the marble-like floor. Dozens of teleportation circles line the perimeter, each one flaring to life every few seconds as people—and creatures—appear or vanish.

Alix's eyes flick across the crowd. A group of scaled warriors stride past, speaking in sharp, guttural tones. A cloaked elf sorcerer adjusts her staff, flanked by a floating eye construct. Two insectoid guards check credentials at a security post. A horned merchant hawks glowing artifacts from a floating stall.

It's organized chaos.

Lathar steps forward, motioning loosely with a gloved hand.

"Welcome to our main base's teleportation station," he says. "This is one of the busiest hubs of the city—military, trade, even research all flow through here."

Alix's gaze lingers on a pair of children—one an elf, one feline—racing past with small rune-satchels, laughing.

Lathar notices and adds, "Yeah. It's not just monsters here. We've got beastkin, demi-races, synthetics—you name it. This isn't some war camp. It's a city."

Alix studies the flow of people. "You're not just surviving out here. You're… thriving."

Lathar grins. "We don't have the luxury of falling apart. Not with the world the way it is. Our strength comes from unity—forced or earned."

They continue walking through the bustling hall, footsteps echoing over smooth stone as the shifting crowd gives them a wide berth.

Looking around, Alix finally speaks. "With how open your main base is… you're telling me this Astram guy still doesn't know where it is?"

Lathar lets out a short breath through his nose, half a laugh. "Oh, he knows. I'd bet good coin on it."

"Then why hasn't he hit you?"

"Because he can't afford to," Lathar says, glancing sideways. "Not with the other families watching him like hawks. Astram's powerful, yeah, but his grip on the throne isn't absolute. If he goes all-in on us, he leaves his flanks open. And in his world, hesitation means assassination."

Alix raises a brow. "Politics over power."

"Exactly. Even monsters have to play the long game."

They exit the building, stepping through a broad archway framed by living crystal vines. The light outside is warm, but filtered—diffused by mana-rich air. What greets Alix beyond the threshold is a sight he doesn't quite expect.

A massive, multi-tiered city stretches before them, alive with movement and layered architecture. Structures of glass-like stone and glowing metal rise in elegant arcs. Sky-rails weave between towers. Hovering platforms drift lazily in the air. Trees grow along rooftops and in vertical gardens, coexisting with magic-tech arrays and rune lanterns.

The city pulses with both nature and design—vibrant, alive, and unmistakably advanced.

Alix pauses, taking it in.

Though it's not as grand as his own capital in sheer scale or royal opulence… in terms of harmony, infrastructure, and cultural mix—this place is something else entirely.

'Compared to the cities in the Three Kingdoms,' Alix thinks, 'this is a hundred times more advanced.'

Lathar watches his expression, a hint of pride in his voice. "Not bad, huh?"

Alix nods slowly. "It's… more than I expected."

"Good. You'll want to remember that feeling." Lathar starts down a curved path toward a looming central tower in the distance, flanked by shimmering barriers and guard sentries.

They approach the central tower—taller than any structure Alix has seen in this city. Its surface gleams like obsidian, etched with glowing veins of mana that pulse in rhythm, as if the building itself breathes.

Guards step aside silently as they near, and a wide, rune-locked door begins to open without a word. A deep hum resonates from within.

They step inside.

The interior is cavernous—more like a cathedral than a hall. Massive archways curve high overhead, each one supported by monolithic pillars that shimmer with enchantments. At the far end of the chamber, seated atop a platform of blackstone and ancient roots, is him.

The leader.

A colossal figure, at least seven meters tall, sits upon a throne grown from living crystal and fossilized bone. His form is vaguely humanoid—but only in silhouette. Everything else is monstrous.

Thick armor-like scales cover his body, a dull, volcanic black with cracks that glow faintly like magma. His arms are long and built like siege weapons, ending in taloned claws. A flowing mane of dark crimson energy drapes behind his head like a burning cape. Horns spiral from the sides of his skull, and his eyes—molten gold, sharp as blades—fix instantly on Alix.

The air grows heavier.

The entire chamber reacts to his presence. Mana thickens. Light dims. Even the floor seems to tense under his gaze.

Lathar bows his head, kneeling with one fist pressed to the ground.

Alix doesn't kneel.

The leader's voice rolls across the chamber like distant thunder, low and heavy. "Lathar. You're here. Has something gone wrong?"

Lathar lifts his head, his voice steady. "No, my lord. Nothing's wrong. I bring someone… exceptional."

The molten-gold gaze shifts, locking fully onto Alix.

Lathar rises to his feet, glancing once at Alix before turning back to the throne. "This is Alix. He approached our outpost, asked to join. But he made a request—he wanted to see you personally."

A rumble rolls through the air, not quite a growl, not quite speech. The leader's presence sharpens.