Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

A blinding flash arcs into the air. Ten banners ignite high above the arena, each one displaying the symbol of a team.

"The Kingdom of Tous!"

Another wave of cheers.

"The Nighthorn Clan!"

Roars answer.

"The Kingdom of Kareth! The Stormveil Sect! The Ashedge Clan—yes, the Ashedge Clan has returned to the top!"

This time, the crowd gasps—then cheers anew, louder than before. The underdog story has caught fire.

"Unreal!" the announcer shouts. "Once overlooked, now impossible to ignore!."

The camera crystal above the arena pans briefly over to Alix.

He doesn't react.

Just watches.

The crowd shifts, murmuring with fresh curiosity.

Gresren mutters under his breath, "They really love building suspense."

The announcer keeps going, voice booming.

"Let's not forget our other champions—Hrelm, Frostpine, Myren, Duskwatch, and Red Ember! The fiercest forces in the empire, gathered here today!"

The crowd roars again, stomping and clapping, the stands trembling with energy.

The arena's golden central platform rises slowly. The announcer's voice grows deeper, more serious.

"Only ten teams remain. And now, they face the second stage."

A hush falls over the crowd.

Even the wind seems to still.

The announcer's voice drops low—measured, deliberate—echoing like thunder held back behind stormclouds.

"The second stage… will be team versus team!"

A sharp flare of magic erupts from the center of the arena. In the air above, ten glowing orbs appear—each one representing a team's emblem. They float, swirling slowly in a circle, lines of magical energy crackling between them.

"Ten teams. Five battles. Each one chosen not by rank… but by fate!"

The orbs begin to spin faster. The magical circle around them pulses with rhythm, like a heartbeat.

Solven narrows his eyes. "It's randomized."

Gresren tightens his grip on his shield. "Great. So we could be thrown against the top seed right off the bat."

The crowd leans forward as the magical runes flare brighter.

Then—

BOOM.

A pulse of power shoots through the orbs. One by one, they start to slow.

A hush falls over the coliseum.

Above the arena, the glowing emblems begin to pair off, lines of golden light linking them together.

The announcer's voice rises again, practically humming with drama.

"And our first match of the second stage…"

Two orbs flare brighter.

"…The Frostpine Clan…"

The crowd erupts.

"…versus… the Red Ember Clan!"

Another wave of noise surges through the stands—cheering, booing, shouting. Rival supporters scream over each other.

The stone arena begins to shift—panels grinding open along the edges as terrain rises from beneath. Jagged ice pillars form on one half of the battlefield, while scorched, blackened stone and molten cracks snake across the other. Two environments—cold and heat—dividing the field.

The crowd roars.

The two teams step out onto the elevated platforms, lowered slowly into the arena center.

On one side stands Frostpine Clan, their leader, Seren Frostveil, walks forward in pale blue robes trimmed in silver. Her silver hair is tied in a braid, and a cold mist follows her with every step. At her side are the two clan members—one armored man with twin frost axes, and a silent girl with a spear of pure ice.

Behind them, two recruits, both dressed in simpler gear. But their mana is clean and potent—water element users, chosen for their compatibility with the Frostpine flow.

Across the field, flames crackle with every step of the Red Ember Clan.

Their leader, Lisdrik of the Ember Line, strides forward in glowing crimson armor, his greatsword crackling with flame. Fire dances in his red-gold eyes. Two flame-wielders from his clan flank him—one a short woman dual-wielding fire daggers, the other a staff-wielding man cloaked in smoke.

His two recruits are no less fierce. Both fire-element users—one hurling molten discs, the other already igniting his fists.

The announcer's voice cuts across the noise.

"Fire and ice! Ember and frost! Opposing elements, opposing wills! Let the first battle… BEGIN!"

A chime.

BOOM.

The instant the chime fades, the battlefield explodes into motion.

From the Frostpine Clan side, a massive burst of mist rolls outward as Seren Frostveil sweeps her arm in a wide arc. The air crystallizes instantly—sharp, glittering shards of frost racing like razors across the ground.

The two Frostpine clanmates move in sync. The axe-wielder, slams his weapons together, sending a shockwave of frost outward. The ice-borne spear-wielder, launches forward with a dancer's grace, her spear carving arcs of sub-zero wind as she leaps.

Behind them, the two water mages stay back—one chanting as rings of liquid shimmer around his hands, the other lifting her arms as twin waves rise from the ground, rippling and ready.

Across the field, the Red Ember Clan charges.

"Burn them down! Forward!" Lisdrik roars, his greatsword bursting into flames as he dashes straight at the front line.

His two clanmates flank him, flame-dagger girl darting low and fast, while the staff-wielder channels fire into a swirling firestorm above them. His recruits stay wide—one hurling a spinning disc of molten rock toward the Frostpine side, the other launching forward with fists lit like meteors.

The two elements clash at the center of the arena.

CRACK—BOOM!

The center of the arena erupts as ice meets fire.

The molten disc slams into a rising wall of frost, shattering it in a burst of steam and flying shards. The water mage who conjured it flinches but quickly recovers, sweeping his hand wide and pulling a wave of surging water up to deflect the next strike.

The arena boils with elemental fury.

Lisdrik and Seren meet at the very center—steel on steel, flame against frost.

Lisdrik's flaming greatsword crashes down like a hammer. Seren sidesteps with a smooth glide, her frost-edged blade humming through the air in return. He blocks, the force of her parry sending a shockwave of steam outward as fire and ice grind against each other.

"I will freeze your fire," Seren says calmly, sliding back.

Lisdrik snarls. "Let's see how you're gonna do it."

They clash again.

BOOM.

His greatsword swings in a brutal arc—flames trailing behind it in a burning crescent. Seren raises both hands, calling a wall of frost that catches the blow—but the ice shatters from the force, forcing her to twist aside, robe scorched.

Across the battlefield—

The ice spear-wielder clashes with the Ember recruit who fights bare-fisted. His punches land like explosions, breaking apart the frost around her with every hit. But she's fast—too fast. She ducks, spins, then strikes—her spear piercing the ground, sending up a spike of ice beneath his feet.

He leaps back, narrowly dodging the impalement, but his leg is cut. Blood sizzles as it hits the hot stone.

The water mage supporting her raises both arms now—slamming them down. A column of water rises and slams the Ember staff-wielder mid-cast, cutting off his storm.

"Disrupt him!" the Frostpine axe-user bellows as he charges in.

The axe-wielder collides with the molten-disc thrower, whose magic sears the ground. They trade blow for blow—fireballs against crashing frost waves. Every strike splashes heat and cold, mist thickening around them.

Meanwhile, the fire-dagger rogue blinks through the haze, her speed blinding. She goes for the backline—but the second water mage is ready.

A whip of water lashes out and coils around her ankle.

Before the rogue can blink, the mage yanks—and she crashes hard into the stone.

"Nice shot!" the spear-wielder calls out.

But Lisdrik and Seren are in their own world now.

The two leaders trade brutal blows—his greatsword a furnace, her blade an avalanche.

Lisdrik steps in, swings overhead with a roar—

Seren ducks under it, frost swirling around her like smoke, and slashes upward.

Ice blooms along his armor, cracking across his chestplate.

He growls, flames erupting from his body, melting the frost instantly. "Enough!"

He lunges in—

She meets him halfway—

Both blades collide.

BOOOOOOM.

A shockwave explodes outward from the clash, sending shards of ice and fire in all directions. Even the audience leans back as the magical dome flickers under the strain.

When the steam clears—

Both leaders are still standing.

Breathing hard.

Scorched and frosted in equal parts.

Lisdrik grins. "You're not bad, frost princess."

Seren narrows her eyes. "And you're not as reckless as you look."

Around them, the battle slows. Three of Red Ember's members are down—one unconscious, two forced to yield under overwhelming frost.

Frostpine still holds three standing strong, with the two water mages down.

Only the leaders remain in the deadlock.

Lisdrik exhales once, then chuckles.

"…Fine."

He lifts his hand slowly.

"I yield."

The crowd erupts—cheers exploding from the stands, the Frostpine banner pulsing bright blue overhead.

The announcer's voice booms through the air:

"Victory—Frostpine Clan advances to the next round!"

The water mage who collapsed to one knee looks up and exhales in relief. The spear-wielder plants her weapon and leans on it, breathing hard.

Seren lowers her blade.

The arena is still trembling from the final clash when the announcer's voice ignites the crowd once more.

"WHAT A BATTLE!!" he roars, his voice shaking the very sky above the coliseum. "Frost against flame! Ice against fury! An elemental war from start to finish!"

The audience erupts again, louder than before—waves of applause, stomping feet, banners flying, chants roaring from both sides of the stadium.

"Opposing elements! Opposing wills! And neither side gave an inch until the very end!" the announcer continues, his words racing ahead of the cheers. "Seren of the Frostpine, calm and relentless! Lisdrik of the Ember Line, blazing and unstoppable! Two leaders at the peak of their command!"

The camera crystal swings through the mist and steam lingering over the field, catching the battered yet dignified forms of both team leaders—Seren walking slowly toward her teammates, Lisdrik nodding to his own as they regroup.