Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Some hours later.

The heavy doors of Alix's working chamber close behind him with a soft, final click. The scent of old paper and fresh ink drifts in the air, mingling with the muted thrum of mana that pulses through the obsidian walls. Shelves line the room—scrolls, reports, handbound ledgers—and at the center, beneath a suspended crystal lamp, rests a wide table of darkwood inlaid with runes.

Alix steps inside, rolling his shoulders once. The revival is complete.

He walks over to the table and draws out a worn, blackened ledger. His fingers trail across the surface, brushing away a thin layer of dust, and with a thought, the runes ignite softly—revealing updated listings of newly revived troops.

"One hundred and fifty thousand Bonepiercers," he says quietly, almost to himself. He doesn't sit, just stands there, arms crossed, scanning the names and designations that flicker into view.

His lips curl slightly—not into a smile, but something like it. Satisfaction.

"Twenty commanders made it through," he murmurs, nodding once. "Tier six, all of them. That's better than I expected."

He exhales slowly, gaze sharpening.

"With them at the helm… I won't need long."

He lifts his head, eyes focused but distant, like he's already seeing the conquest unfold.

"It shouldn't take long for me to conquer the Caeland Continent now."

-----

One month later.

The sky over the training ground, where his subordinates are training, is cloudless—a pale blue dome stretching endlessly above. The air is crisp and still, carrying the faint tang of sharpened metal and scorched earth. At the center of the vast field—stone-paved and etched with formation circles—sparks flash and dust kicks up in sudden bursts of movement.

Ruva lunges.

The young Felinari moves like a blur—ears flat, claws extended, tail slicing through the air as her body twists mid-dash. Her opponent, a combat doll reinforced with Tier 3 enchantments, swivels sharply and blocks her strike with a glowing armguard. Sparks fly on impact.

She flips back, landing low on all fours, eyes locked on her target.

Alix watches from a raised platform at the edge of the training field, arms behind his back, expression unreadable. The wind catches the edge of his long coat, flicking it gently like a banner.

"She's faster," he murmurs.

The doll charges, its movements fluid but precise, mimicking a real Tier 3 swordsman. Its blade lashes out in a downward arc—but Ruva is already gone.

A flicker. Like a gust of wind.

Then she's behind it.

Her claws dig into the back plating of the doll's shoulder. With a fierce snarl, she spins and kicks it sideways, sending the automaton staggering. Before it can regain balance, she pounces, claws raking down its chest. Sparks fly again.

"Ruva," Alix calls out, voice sharp but even. "Watch your spacing on the third step. You're crowding your own momentum."

"Okay, big brother" she shouts back, breathless but focused. "I will fix it."

The training doll whirs again, systems rebooting, but Ruva lifts her hand and exhales.

Wind gathers.

A low whoomph pulses out from her palm—growing into a spiraling vortex that wraps around her arms and legs like living current. The grass flattens in a wide circle around her feet. Alix watches closely.

Then, in a blink, she's gone.

A burst of compressed air marks her movement. She reappears just above the doll's head, claws glowing faintly with green-tinted wind mana. Her eyes burn with focus.

"Gale Claw!"

She slams down, a streak of air-blurred movement. The impact tears across the doll's chest, sending it crashing backward in a spray of sparks and cracked plating. This time, it doesn't rise.

Silence returns to the field, broken only by Ruva's steady breathing.

Alix steps down from the platform, approaching slowly. "Other than that," he says, his tone even but approving, "it's all good. You're progressing fast."

Ruva turns to him, tail swaying slightly, a proud smile tugging at her lips. "It's all thanks to you, big brother."

Alix gives a quiet snort. "It's also because you're very talented."

In this old world, a genius might reach Tier 2 at that age, if they were fortunate—if they had the backing, the bloodline, the training. But here, Ruva has soared forward with almost terrifying speed.

Ruva grins, brushing dust off her elbow. "Still. If I didn't meet you, I'd probably be picking fruit for food somewhere. And I wouldn't even know I had great affinity to wind element."

"You'd have figured it out eventually," Alix replies, watching the lingering wind currents curl around her feet before fading. "It's in your blood. The way you move—it's not just instinct. It's tuned. Harmonized."

She tilts her head, ears perking curiously. "Harmonized?"

"Like the wind itself," he says. "Fast. Unpredictable. But not chaotic. You're starting to move with purpose."

Ruva beams at that, her cheeks puffing slightly with pride. "Then next time, I'll go even faster!"

Alix raises an eyebrow. "Faster is good. But not if you tear your own joints doing it."

She groans. "Ugh, you sound like uncle Varkas now."

"Varkas's not wrong," Alix says, smirking faintly. "Control is everything."

Ruva nods, then looks at the ruined doll. "Should I reset it and go again?"

"Not right now," he replies, glancing at the sky. The sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, its light golden and warm across the field. "You've pushed your limit today."

"Hmm…" Ruva pouts, then lets out a breath, her tone reluctant. "Okay. But tomorrow, I want to try that new Wind Dash skill, the one where I phase."

"Phase-step?" Alix says, already thinking ahead. "I'll have Nyssara set up some moving targets. That skill's only useful if you can track while you're moving."

Ruva gives him a quick salute, tail flicking behind her like a banner of pride.

Just as Alix turns to leave the field, a soft ding echoes in the air—faint but unmistakable. A transparent screen materializes in front of him, hovering a few inches from his face.

His eyes flicker toward it.

[Notice: Congratulations, your population has reached 30,000,000.

You are now eligible to level up.

Next Level: 600

Proceed to level up?]

Alix blinks once.

So it's finally here.

He stares at the message for a second, absorbing the implications. A subtle pressure builds around him—mana stirring in the air as if the world itself is aware of the threshold he's about to cross.

"Big brother?" Ruva's voice cuts in from behind him, her arms folded behind her back, claws twitching slightly in anticipation. "Can we go? I smell cake."

Alix doesn't turn around. "Go on ahead without me. I'll stay here."

There's a short pause.

Ruva doesn't ask why. She doesn't need to. If Alix says stay, there's a reason.

"Okaaay," she says, drawing the word out with a shrug. "But I'm eating your share."

He smirks faintly, still watching the translucent screen. "You always do."

Ruva laughs, light and wind-tinged. Then she trots off with a skip in her step, tail swishing behind her like a pennant of joy. "See you later, big brother!"

Alix waits until she's gone—until her presence fully leaves the training ground.

Then he exhales, slowly.

The screen pulses once more, waiting.

He reaches out, his fingertip brushing the glowing confirmation line.

"Let's level up."

As Alix's finger presses against the glowing confirmation, the transparent screen vanishes—replaced instantly by a sudden, immense pull from within his core.

The world stills.

Then the ground trembles.

A pillar of blinding light erupts from beneath Alix's feet, spiraling upward like a lance of condensed energy. It pierces the sky, warping clouds high above, scattering birds in all directions. The air hums with power—raw, ancient, hungry. The mana in the area convulses, sucked inward as if being devoured by an invisible storm centered around him.

Alix clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing against the force now tearing through his body.

[System Notice: Initiating Level Ascension. Current Level: 500 → Target Level: 600]

The system's voice booms inside his mind—calm, mechanical, but unmistakably final.

[Ascension Protocol Engaged. Tier Density Expanding… Base Frame Reinforced… Innate Ability Unlocking…]

Pain lances through him, not the sharp kind, but something deeper—like his very bones are being reshaped, his soul tempered in white-hot fire. He drops to one knee, fist slamming into the stone floor, cracks spidering outward beneath him. Not because he's weakening—but because the sheer amount of power rushing into him can't be contained by the space around him anymore.

His mana core twists—stretches—shatters—and reforms.

[Level 510 Achieved… 520… 530…]

Each ten levels feels like the world resets around him. A surge of clarity. A burst of strength. His muscles don't swell—no, his body remains lean, refined—but the weight of his presence thickens. The shadows stretch longer. The air grows heavier.

Crimson glyphs ignite around his arms, spiraling down to his wrists—symbols of authority, of control. His blood runs hot, like molten metal, and a second heartbeat thunders within him—deeper, more ancient.

[Level 560… 570…]

At Level 580, something changes

The sky above the training ground darkens, not from clouds—but from mana so dense it dims the light itself. The world pauses, as if the very plane of reality recognizes what's happening.

His system flashes:

[Innate Ability Awakened:

Your existence now exerts localized law distortion.

All lower-tier beings within 500 meters will experience pressure.

Also affects Tier 6 enemies; effect scales with disparity in Willpower.]

Alix doesn't move. He doesn't need to. The mana around him begins to swirl—shifting colors, from deep violet to bright silver. His body absorbs it all, like a bottomless well. Like a king reclaiming what was always his.

[Level 590… 595… 599…]

The final number pulses.

[Level 600 Achieved.]

Then silence.