Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Alix meets his stare head-on, calm and steady. There's no heat in his voice—only cool certainty.

"I'll fight the next Tier 4 we find," he says simply.

Solven raises an eyebrow. "Just you?"

"Yes," Alix says.

Velira studies him for a second longer, then nods slowly. "Alright. Next one's yours."

Gresren crosses his arms, muttering under his breath, "Better be worth the wait."

----

It doesn't take long.

Barely twenty minutes into their quiet advance through the forest, Solven halts, crouching by a broken root. He raises a hand—signal. The group comes to a stop behind a fallen log, every movement trained and silent.

"There," Solven murmurs, pointing just ahead through a narrow break in the trees.

Everyone follows his finger.

A lone beast prowls just beyond the treeline. Sleek, sinewy, with glossy black fur striped in red. Its long tail flicks like a whip behind it, claws carving deep trenches into the bark as it stalks between the trees. Its eyes glow amber—feral and focused.

Tier 4.

Alix's gaze sharpens. "As promised," he says quietly, stepping forward, "I'll handle it alone."

Karnessa's fingers curl tightly at her side, but she says nothing. She watches him go, lips pressed thin. Even if she wanted to help, she can't. She doesn't know how to fight. She doesn't even have any skills. Just a bloodline she doesn't understand—and a master who told her to stay still.

Solven watches Alix's back as he moves through the undergrowth.

He leans closer to Velira. "Is this really okay?" he asks in a hushed voice. "That thing's aura… it's strong. Stronger than Alix."

Velira keeps her eyes forward, posture tense but composed. "If it gets bad, we help," she says. "Until then, we trust him."

Gresren huffs but doesn't argue. "He asked for this."

Alix walks toward the beast with calm, deliberate steps. The forest seems to hush around him, as if nature itself holds its breath. Mist clings to his boots. Light filters through the canopy in shifting beams, painting him in ghost-light.

His right hand drifts to the sword at his waist—a slender, dark-steel blade with a simple hilt wrapped in worn leather. He draws it without flourish. No glow, no wind, no fire. Just the cold slide of steel leaving its sheath.

'They think I'm weaker than it,' he thinks, lips quirking faintly. 'Good.'

The beast notices him now. Its head snaps around, and it growls—low, guttural, primal. Muscles coil under its striped hide. Saliva drips from long, curved fangs. The earth tenses beneath it.

Then it charges.

Fast.

The beast explodes from cover like a black arrow, claws raking into soil, tail lashing violently behind it. A predator strike—direct, overwhelming, brutal.

Velira tightens her grip on her bow. Solven takes a half-step forward instinctively, and Gresren's brow furrows.

But Alix doesn't move.

Not until the last second.

Then he steps sideways—one smooth shift—and the beast rips past him, claws slicing only empty air.

Alix pivots, low and fast.

His sword hums as it arcs in a tight curve.

Steel sings.

CLANG.

The blade crashes against the beast's flank, sparks flying as it scrapes against its reinforced hide. Not deep—but enough. The creature snarls, twisting mid-charge, tail whipping out toward Alix's chest.

He ducks under it.

Then counters.

His footwork is tight, precise. He steps in, slashing upward.

Slash. Parry. Feint.

The second blow grazes the beast's shoulder—then the third strikes its paw as it lunges, forcing it to stagger sideways with a pained yelp.

"He's... controlling the flow," Solven mutters, voice low. "What an impressive sword mastery."

Velira narrows her eyes. "He's not panicking. Not even straining."

The beast roars, turning fully now, fangs bared. It leaps again—straight for Alix's throat.

Alix exhales.

"Tier 4: Ember Fang."

A flash of flame erupts from his blade—not wild or explosive, but refined. A focused surge along the edge, turning it white-hot for a split second.

He twists mid-dodge, bringing the blade up across the beast's belly.

Shhhk.

A clean, deep cut.

The creature lands and skids, hind legs buckling.

Alix doesn't give it a second to recover.

He surges forward. Fast.

"Tier 4: Flash Step."

He blinks from view—just a blur of heat and speed—and reappears beside the beast's exposed side.

One clean slash.

"Tier 4: Flame Sever."

The strike cuts across the beast's neck, trailing fire like a ribbon. The flames don't erupt—they eat, focused and lethal, burning into the wound before the blood can even spill.

The beast collapses.

Twitches.

Goes still.

Steam rises from the gash. The scent of scorched fur drifts into the air.

Silence.

Alix stands over the body, breathing steady. His blade flicks once—snick—casting off embers and blood before sliding back into its sheath.

He turns and walks back toward the others.

No swagger. No grin. Just calm eyes and quiet steps.

Velira's lips part slightly. Solven exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. Gresren just stares, brow furrowed and mouth set in a flat line.

Karnessa watches with wide, unblinking eyes.

Alix stops a few paces from them.

'I used an almost peakTier 4 strength,' he thought. 'That should be enough.'

Solven breaks the silence first, eyes wide, voice light with disbelief.

"Wow… Alix, are you a prodigy?"

Alix tilts his head slightly. "Prodigy?"

Velira steps forward, her tone warm but matter-of-fact. "It's what we call people who are stronger than their actual level—naturally gifted. Rare, but real."

Gresren scoffs, folding his arms. "You must be kidding, Solven. You've never seen a real prodigy—not in the main continent. Those people are monsters."

Velira gives him a side glance. "And yet, Alix just beat a high-tier beast with clean footwork, perfect control, and no wasted power."

She turns back to Alix and continues, more directly, "You're level 450, right?"

Alix nods once. "Yes."

"Then fighting like a peak Tier 4 at level 450 is still very impressive. Most people at your level wouldn't last ten seconds against that thing."

Gresren's mouth tightens, but he doesn't argue. He just looks away with a grunt.

Solven, meanwhile, still seems fascinated. "The way you moved… It wasn't just power. That was technique. Like someone who's trained for years with a blade."

"I have," Alix says simply.

Velira crosses her arms, studying him now with clear respect. "After this event ends, you should come with me to my clan."

Alix raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'll make my father reward you," she says without hesitation. "You're the kind of talent the Ashedge Clan needs. Not just strength—but calm under pressure. Control. Discipline."

Karnessa watches quietly behind him, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides.

Alix glances back at the corpse of the beast, then returns his gaze to Velira.

"…I'll think about it."

Velira nods. "That's all I ask."

Gresren huffs again but says nothing this time. Solven chuckles, nudging him with an elbow. "Come on, admit it. The guy is a genius."

Gresren grumbles, then finally mutters, "Fine. He's good. Better than I thought."

Velira smirks faintly. "More than good."

---

They continue hunting.

For the next half-day, the forest becomes a blur of movement—crushed foliage, bursts of magic, the metallic ring of steel clashing against hide. Beasts fall one after another. Between Velira's precision, Solven and Gresren's brutal tempo, and Alix's controlled but devastating swordplay, the kills come quickly and efficiently.

By midday, their tally hits five hundred points.

"Not bad," Solven mutters, wiping blood off one of his twin blades.

"It's because of Alix," Velira says as she checks her wrist crystal. "Having three peak Tier 4 combatants makes this so much smoother."

Alix remains quiet as he cleans his blade with a cloth, his expression unreadable.

Karnessa lingers just behind the group, watching, hugging herself. She hasn't spoken much—but her gaze rarely leaves Alix.

The team pauses briefly near a ridge to regroup, but they don't get much time to rest.

A low growl tears through the air ahead of them—followed by the sound of crashing trees. A massive, hulking beast bursts through the underbrush, its body covered in jagged rock-like armor and glimmering red eyes.

"Another peak Tier 4," Gresren says, bracing his shield. "Alright, formation?"

Velira notches an arrow. "You know the drill."

The group moves instinctively—Velira taking the high ground, Solven and Gresren flanking the sides, Alix walking calmly toward the front. Karnessa stays back, behind a wide root.

But before anyone can engage—

A whistling sound cuts through the air.

BOOM.

A shockwave explodes behind the beast, sending it sprawling forward—right past Alix. Everyone snaps to alert.

From the treeline, a group of five figures emerges, walking in a loose spread. Uniform leather armor, violet sashes across their shoulders, and polished weapons glinting in the filtered light.

"Jackpot," one of them says, grinning wide. He has an axe slung over one shoulder and an air of smug arrogance. "We finally found another group."

He scans them casually, then sneers.

"And looks like we're in luck. We ran into the loser squad."

Velira's eyes narrow instantly. Her tone drops low, controlled but sharp. "This is bad."

"Who are they?" Solven asks, shifting his stance, blades already drawn.

Velira doesn't take her eyes off the approaching group. Her voice drops further.

"They're from the Qardon Kingdom."

Gresren's grip tightens on his shield. "Damn."

"They've got three Tier 5s," Velira continues, eyes narrowing as she counts, "and two Tier 4s. All experienced."

The one with the axe stops a few paces ahead, grinning like a wolf. "What's wrong, Ashedge girl? You look tense. I thought all of you from the clans were taught to be calm under pressure."

The girl beside him—lean and cat-eyed, with a staff in her hand—laughs. "Five hundred points, huh? That's a nice haul. Hope you're not too attached to them."