Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Alix glances down at the new mark on his hand, then looks toward the cage again.

The woman is still standing. Still silent. But her eyes—those calm, steady crimson eyes—are open now. Watching him.

Not a word leaves her lips.

Alix walks toward the cage and gestures.

"Come."

The chains clink softly as the woman steps forward. Her movements are slow but deliberate, like every inch of her is being weighed against unseen resistance. She stops just in front of Alix, close enough for her breath to touch the edge of his cloak.

Then, in a voice as quiet as smoke, she speaks for the first time.

"…Master."

The word hangs in the air, fragile and strange. Not desperate. Not submissive. Just a statement of fact.

Alix studies her face—dirt-smeared, blood-flecked, eyes like still embers beneath ash.

"What is your name?" he asks.

A long pause follows. Her eyes drop—not out of shame, but thought. She tilts her head slightly, as if searching for something within herself that no longer exists.

"…I don't have one," she says at last. "Master."

The market noise fades in Alix's ears. His voice, when it comes, is low and steady.

"Then I'll give you one."

She lifts her gaze again, meeting his eyes.

Alix's expression doesn't change. "From now on… your name is Karnessa."

For a moment, she doesn't react. Then, like a ripple through still water, something shifts behind her eyes. A flicker—faint, but real.

"…Karnessa," she repeats softly, tasting the word like it's foreign metal on her tongue.

The name settles in the air like a quiet oath.

Alix turns, Karnessa following closely behind, her chains now carried with a strange dignity rather than burden. Dasdarin glances between the two, eyes wide with something between awe and confusion.

They exit the slave market through the same archway they came in, though this time the sun feels hotter, the air heavier. The noise fades behind them, swallowed by the narrow streets of Vassren once more.

As they reach a quieter stretch, Alix pauses and turns to Dasdarin.

"Here," he says, and tosses the boy a small, weighty pouch.

Dasdarin catches it with both hands, eyebrows lifting at the sound of clinking metal. He opens it halfway and sees the unmistakable glint of five gold coins. His mouth parts slightly.

"…You serious?"

"You did what I asked," Alix says. "And you didn't lie."

Dasdarin lets out a low laugh, both surprised and delighted. "Well, damn. I was just hoping for a silver or two."

He tucks the pouch away quickly, eyes gleaming with sudden warmth. "Thanks, good sir. Really. This… this'll feed the whole alley gang for a week. Maybe two if I stretch it."

Alix gives a slight nod, already starting to walk again. Karnessa follows silently behind him, the sigil on his palm pulsing once like a sleeping ember.

Dasdarin watches them disappear down the road, still holding the pouch in one hand. He shakes his head, grinning to himself.

"Who would've thought," he mutters, "a guy looking like that's packing gold like a bloody noble."

---

The door to the inn room closes behind them with a soft click.

It's modest—bare stone walls, a wooden bedframe with coarse linens, and a narrow window letting in the faint amber glow of sunset. A small basin of water sits on the side table. Alix doesn't say anything at first. He removes his cloak and sets it aside, then tosses a few coins on the table for the innkeeper's tab.

Karnessa stands near the door, unmoving. Her wrists are still ringed with the raw marks of old restraints, and though she's no longer bound, she stands as if she is.

After a moment, her voice cuts through the silence.

"Master," she says quietly, "are you… not affected by my curse?"

Alix, still half-facing away, doesn't turn to her immediately. He speaks as he begins pouring water into the basin.

"You don't have a curse."

Karnessa flinches—just slightly. She looks at him, brow faintly furrowed in confusion. "But the others… they bled. Some collapsed. One man ran screaming just from being near me."

Alix turns now, meeting her eyes. His voice remains calm, measured.

"That wasn't a curse. What you have… is an innate ability."

She stares at him for a long second. "Innate… ability?"

"Yes," Alix says, nodding slightly. "Something you were born with. Not given by magic. Not learned from a book. It's a rare phenomenon. Usually tied to bloodlines or… something deeper."

Karnessa's brows draw together. She looks down at her hands, then back to him.

"Then why does it… hurt people?"

"Because it's uncontrolled," Alix says simply. "Untamed power lashes out. Especially when the one holding it is hurt, angry… afraid."

She's silent again, taking it in like a foreign language.

"So… I am not cursed," she whispers, more to herself than to him. The idea sounds almost too fragile to believe.

Alix nods once, then turns toward the narrow door leading to the washroom.

"Clean yourself," he says. "Tomorrow, I'll help you learn how to control your innate ability."

Karnessa hesitates for a moment, then silently obeys. She gathers the cloth, steps inside the washroom, and closes the door behind her with a quiet thud.

The sound of water follows—not hurried or frantic, but slow, cautious. For a long time, she stands beneath the flow, letting the warmth ease the cold stiffness from her limbs. Dirt and dried blood run off her skin in thin streams, swirling into the drain like the ghosts of her cage.

When she finally steps out, her long silver hair damp against her shoulders, she wears a simple robe left for her on a hook. Her body is clean, her eyes sharp, but her thoughts are tangled.

She walks out, bracing herself.

She's heard the whispers. The jeers. The warnings. She knows what happens to women like her, bought from cages with chains still fresh on their skin. No matter the price or the buyer's face, the story always ends the same—used, broken, discarded. Her heart beats a little harder in her chest, though her expression stays neutral.

But what she sees… surprises her.

Alix is seated by the window. The moment she steps in, he glances over—but only briefly.

His eyes drift from her to the dimming skyline, then back to the half-finished cup of water in his hand.

"You're done," Alix says simply. "Good."

Karnessa stands near the doorway, uncertain. The robe clings lightly to her frame, her damp hair dripping onto the stone floor. She doesn't move closer—doesn't speak right away. Just waits.

There's a long silence between them.

Then, quietly, she asks, "What do you want me to do now… Master?"

Alix doesn't answer right away. He finishes his drink, sets the cup down with a soft clink, and finally stands. His tone is as calm as ever, but there's a firmness in it.

"Sleep."

Karnessa blinks. "…Sleep?"

Alix nods once. "That bed is yours for the night. I'll take the chair."

She stares at him, frozen. "You're not going to…?"

"No."

He walks past her, drags the old wooden chair near the window, and sits down, resting one elbow on the sill as if he's done this routine a hundred times before. "You need rest more than anything. You've been locked up for how long?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't know how to answer.

Alix doesn't press. He leans back, eyes half-lidded, voice steady. "I won't touch you. I didn't buy you for that."

Karnessa stands there a moment longer, still as stone, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.

"…I was told that's all I'd be good for," she says, voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't care what you were told," Alix says without looking at her. "You're not a toy."

The words hit harder than she expects.

Slowly, uncertainly, Karnessa steps forward and sits at the edge of the bed. Her gaze flickers toward him once more—watching for a trick, a shift, anything. But Alix doesn't move. Doesn't leer. Doesn't even glance her way again.

Just sits there, as steady as stone, watching the last sliver of orange sink behind the rooftops.

Karnessa lies down, unsure what she's feeling.

For the first time in years, maybe ever… no one wants anything from her.

Just sleep.

She pulls the blanket up over her shoulders and stares at the ceiling, heart pounding in quiet confusion.

"…Karnessa," she whispers to herself again. Like an anchor. Like a promise.

And with that name on her lips, she closes her eyes.

-----

The next morning, sunlight filters through the trees in golden shards, dappling the forest floor with light and shadow. Birds call faintly in the distance. The air is fresh, filled with the scent of damp earth and pine. Karnessa steps over a patch of moss, eyes shifting constantly, her body tense.

She walks a few paces behind Alix, each step cautious.

He doesn't say anything yet—just leads her deeper into the woods until they reach a small clearing surrounded by stone and trees. Quiet. Secluded.

Karnessa stops at the edge, gaze darting. Her voice is tight, wary.

"…Master?"

Alix finally turns to look at her, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"This is good enough. We're far from people," he says.

Karnessa swallows, her thoughts spiraling. Is this a test? A setup? What if he wants to see me lose control? What if he enjoys watching it happen? What if… what if he just lets the beasts finish the job?

Karnessa's shoulders tense as her eyes flick around the clearing—half-expecting a hidden predator to leap out. Her fingers twitch at her sides. She opens her mouth but says nothing. No point. He has the seal. If he wanted her dead, he could end her with a single thought.

Alix studies her for a quiet moment, then gestures to a flat patch of ground near the center.

"Stand there."

She hesitates.