Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

One Month Later.

In Alix's Working Chamber, the soft glow of arcane lamps fills the chamber. Tomes are stacked on side tables. Charts of ley lines and magical forecasts are pinned to the walls. At the center sits Alix, silent, the low rustle of parchment the only sound.

Across from him kneels a member of the Shadows—hooded, wrapped in loose black armor layered with thin enchantments. Her voice is low but steady, the kind meant only for his ears.

"It's going well, Your Majesty," she says. "The invasion has progressed faster than expected."

Alix raises his eyes from the map. "How fast."

The Shadow pulls out a scroll, unfurls it, and places it on the desk between them. "We've secured roughly five percent of Ereborn's surface land. That includes five minor kingdoms, four major border cities, and several autonomous provinces in the outer east. The Bonepiercers took the central edge of Rhyssor and are spreading west—unchecked."

"Only five percent," he says, not with disappointment, but calculation.

The Shadow nods. "Ereborn is massive—at least twice the size of Caeland, perhaps more. We've confirmed the existence of over thirty active kingdoms and confederacies, and that's not counting hidden city-states or nomadic factions."

Alix doesn't blink. "And the response?"

"Uncoordinated at first, but now they're starting to group—and almost all forces on the continent know about our invasion," she replies. "Most assumed it was just another border incursion until the sky changed over Rhyssor. The Bonepiercers… made it clear this was something else entirely."

Alix taps a finger slowly on the armrest. "Casualties?"

"Minimal on our side. Monster legions are maintaining formation. Adventurer legions and conscripted mercenary units are holding the rear lines well. Gander's been rotating frontlines using teleportation portals—keeps pressure constant."

"Resistance?"

"Growing. But fragmented. Some kingdoms have started to form coalitions. Others are too afraid, or too prideful. Internal rivalries are still stronger than their fear of us."

Alix glances toward the great map hanging on the far wall—marked now with new flags, glowing crimson and black. His colors.

Alix leans back slightly in his chair, the firelight catching in his eyes.

"What about that empire," he says, voice calm but sharp, "the one that have half the continent?"

"The Bregion Empire," the Shadow replies, her tone clipped. "They reacted immediately. The same day the Moryos Kingdom fell, they had already deployed one of their Twenty Spears to Rithamar. But that Spear fled while fighting Mhazul."

Alix's gaze narrows slightly. "The Spears. Your last report said each of them is peak Tier 6."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she confirms.

He waves a hand dismissively. "You can go now. Let the others know—if they need anything, I expect to be contacted immediately. Resources. Reinforcements. Whatever they ask for, they get it."

The Shadow bows low. "Understood, Your Majesty."

She vanishes silently into the shadows, like smoke fading into the dark.

Alix is alone again.

But the fire crackles a little louder.

Alix watches the flames dance for a moment longer, then exhales slowly, voice quiet, just above a whisper.

"…I guess it's time to visit that continent myself."

He doesn't say it with impatience or anticipation. Just a quiet resolve—an inevitability.

The next few days are different.

Slower. Quieter.

Alix spends them not in his working chamber, but beside Ruva.

He teaches her—trains her not just in mana shaping or element manipulation, but the things she's been most curious about. How to disarm a spell trap mid-cast. How to twist a tier structure mid-channel. How to stabilize internal flow under emotional stress.

The lessons aren't always strict. Sometimes they don't even feel like lessons.

They walk through the garden trail, Ruva peppering him with endless questions. Sometimes they race spells through the air, betting sweets. Sometimes they just lie in the grass, her tail curled comfortably near his leg as they watch clouds pass through shifting skies.

One evening, Ruva tugs his sleeve as they sit on the palace rooftop, stars glittering overhead.

"You're gonna be gone a while, big brother?"

Alix looks up at the moon. "…Yeah."

Ruva is quiet for a moment, her eyes tracing the stars. Then she shifts closer, hugging her knees.

"Can I go with you?"

Alix turns to her. He doesn't answer immediately—just smiles gently, and places a hand on her head, brushing her hair back with quiet care.

"Right now, no."

Ruva frowns, not in defiance, but disappointment. "…Because I'm still small?"

He chuckles softly. "Because the places I'm going… aren't meant for someone who still laughs when cake wins over training."

She scrunches her nose. "I only laugh because the cake is really good."

"I know." He leans back, folding his arms behind his head. "That's why I haven't taken you yet."

She kicks her feet lightly over the ledge, tail curling and uncurling behind her. Then, quieter—

"…Can I go to your wars if I get stronger?"

Alix glances at her. There's no playfulness in her voice this time. Just quiet conviction, buried beneath thirteen years of curiosity, longing, and something else she hasn't found words for yet.

"If I get strong enough. Strong like you."

He doesn't answer right away.

Instead, he watches the stars for a long moment, like he's weighing more than just her words.

Then he says softly, "If you get strong enough, and if you still want to… I won't stop you."

Ruva turns her head toward him, eyes widening. "Promise?"

Alix doesn't look at her. "I'd rather you never needed to fight. I'd rather you lived a quiet life, safe, and far from what I deal with."

"But that's not a promise," she says quickly.

He finally looks back at her. His smile is faint, but his voice is firm.

"If you grow strong enough to stand in my world—and not just strong in magic, but in heart, in will—then yes. You'll walk beside me."

Ruva's face lights up like a lantern.

"I'll get there," she says, clenching her fists. "I'll catch up."

"You better," he says. "Because by then, I'll be even further ahead."

"That's cheating," she grumbles.

"That's life," he replies.

And somewhere in the quiet between them, as the wind brushes across the rooftop, Ruva silently swears—one day, she'll stand beside him on a battlefield, not as a shadow behind, but as his equal.

-----

A sudden shimmer in the middle of a forest glade distorts the air like heat haze. Then, with a silent ripple, the natural portal opens. Alix steps through.

The scent of unfamiliar soil and wild mana hits him immediately—sharper, denser than Caeland's. The sky above is the same blue, but there's a stillness here, like the land is watching.

Alix takes one step forward, then another, until the portal hums and fades behind him.

No guards. No entourage. No announcement.

He hasn't told a soul he's coming.

He's not here to lead the war.

He's here to see it.

The wind stirs his coat as Alix scans the horizon—untamed forests stretching for miles, broken only by faint roads that twist toward faraway cities.

He exhales once, then lifts into the sky—his form blurring into a streak of wind and shadow. For days he flies across unfamiliar lands, passing above merchant caravans, burned watchtowers, and shattered forts. He sees signs of war—smoke curling from distant villages, convoys of refugees dragging carts down dusty roads—but doesn't intervene.

He's not here for them.

Not yet.

After nearly a week of quiet travel, the towering walls of a capital city rise before him, carved into the base of a jagged plateau. Massive stone gates, paved courtyards, and spires inlaid with golden runes shimmer in the morning sun.

Alix lands unseen in a quiet alley beyond the eastern gate, the wind settling as he touches down. His form ripples—cloak changing, horns vanishing, his monster form disappearing beneath a glamoured fold. His once-glowing eyes fade into a calm, stormy gray.

Just another teenage traveler now. Loose tunic, leather boots, a satchel over his shoulder. A subtle enchantment keeps any lingering aura muted. To the world, he's nobody.

He steps out into the city, blending into the crowd.

Merchants haggle on street corners, shouting about fresh rootfruit and heatstone-laced bread. Scribes run messages between towers. Knights in white-plated armor march by on patrol, glaring at any nonhuman features.

One of them passes Alix and mutters to his partner, "Watch the half-bloods. We missed one last week."

Alix keeps walking.

He turns onto a quiet street and pauses at a bakery window, watching as a child presses her face to the glass, pointing at sweetbuns inside.

A voice beside him cuts through the air.

"You new here?"

Alix glances to the side. A boy—no older than fifteen—leans against the wall, arms crossed, dirt on his face, but his eyes sharp.

"First time in Vassren?" the boy asks.

Alix nods. "Passing through."

"You traveling alone?" the boy asks again, cautious.

"I am."

The boy eyes him, then shrugs. "Weird time to pass through. People are getting drafted. Kingdom's calling in every able body. You don't want to get caught up in that."

"I'll manage."

The boy squints at him, then suddenly grins.

"Well, you don't look like much," he says, brushing a hand through his mess of brown hair. "So they probably won't bother. But if you're lost—or, y'know, just really bad at reading road signs—I can help you tour the city."

Alix lifts a brow. "Tour guide, are you?"

"Call it freelance orientation," the boy says with a smirk. "Only one silver coin. Special rate, just for you."

Alix studies him for a second.

The boy is clearly street-smart. His boots are worn, patched with old thread. His shirt's been sewn back together more times than it should have lasted. But there's confidence in his posture. Not arrogance—survival. He's probably been guiding people for a while now. And even if he's exaggerating, Alix knows the value of blending in—and local knowledge always pays off.