Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

The leader of the group steps forward now—young, tall, and unmistakably noble. His dark violet cloak sways behind him, the royal crest of Qardon stitched over his chestplate. His black hair is tied back in a warrior's knot, and the golden circlet across his brow glints with mana.

A prince.

He lifts his hand lazily, as if swatting away a fly.

"Enough talk," he says coldly. "Attack them."

The two Tier 4s vanish into motion immediately—one rushing towards Alix, the other angling for the backline.

Straight for Karnessa.

Karnessa gasps, stumbling backward, her eyes wide. The enemy Tier 4 dashes through the brush like a streak of shadow, sword raised high.

But before he can reach her—

CLANG!

Alix is there.

His sword intercepts the blow, steel screaming against steel. Sparks spray from the clash. Karnessa stumbles and falls back behind him, eyes locked on his back.

The attacker snarls. "You shouldn't have blocked that, boy."

The second Tier 4 arrives a second later, trying to catch Alix from the side—blades flashing in a scissoring strike meant to cut deep.

Alix exhales once.

His blade flickers.

CLANG—CHING—SHHHK!

He parries the first with a perfect upward deflection, his blade gliding along the enemy's steel, and shifts his weight to spin. The second blow he redirects with the flat of his sword—barely moving his feet. Then—

Strike.

A quick, tight slash—Tier 4: Ember Fang—slams against the shoulder of the second attacker, burning through cloth and armor. The man staggers back, swearing as smoke curls from the wound.

"You little—!"

The first Tier 4 comes again, swinging down with brute force. Alix catches it on his sword, his eyes don't even blink.

Alix pushes off with a sharp pivot, twisting past him, and counters with a downward arc aimed at the man's thigh. The blade bites shallow, carving red through muscle. The man cries out and backs off.

Two on one now.

And yet, Alix doesn't even look tense.

He stands between Karnessa and the two Tier 4s like a wall.

Karnessa watches, her breath caught in her throat.

Alix—calm and immovable—is fending off two Tier 4s like it's routine. Like it's nothing.

But her hands are trembling.

She hates it.

Hates just standing there.

Doing nothing.

Always watching. Always behind him.

Her fingers curl slowly into fists, nails digging into her palms.

"No more," she whispers to herself.

She looks past Alix—eyes locking onto the Tier 4 with the jagged blade, the one still trying to circle around toward her.

Her heart pounds. She doesn't fully understand how, but something in her blood hums. Something ancient and cold, like a river of silver winding through her bones.

She lifts her hand.

Fingers outstretched, palm open.

"…Stop," she breathes.

Her pupils contract. For a brief moment—barely a breath in time—her vision shifts. She sees it: the blood rushing in the man's body. Through his limbs, across his chest, to his brain. Every pulse. Every current.

Her blood stirs.

A silent pressure lashes outward from her hand.

And in that fraction of a second—

The man freezes.

His eyes widen.

His body halts mid-step, sword mid-swing—completely rigid.

Like something inside him just stopped.

"…What the hell—?!" he chokes, voice breaking.

Karnessa's hand drops.

Her knees almost buckle.

Blood flows in him again—she can feel it—but it's already too late.

Because Alix is watching everything.

And he doesn't hesitate.

Flash Step.

He blurs forward with a single, silent dash.

Before the frozen man can even gasp—

SHHHK.

Before the blade finishes its arc, before Alix's sword can pierce the man's chest.

CLANG!

A shimmering golden shield erupts between them, blocking the strike with a brilliant flash of light. Alix's sword ricochets off the glowing barrier, sparks flaring as metal meets pure mana.

Then—

FWOOM.

A pillar of white light engulfs the wounded Tier 4.

The man's eyes widen as his body begins to disintegrate into motes of energy.

"Wha—? No! I can still—!"

Too late.

In an instant, he vanishes—forcefully teleported from the battlefield. Ejected.

The fight was over.

Alix straightens slowly, exhaling as he lowers his sword. His face is impassive, but his gaze flicks to the remaining Tier 4 still standing before him.

The man stares, chest heaving. His face is pale.

"You…" he breathes. "How the hell are you so strong? We're the same Tier. Same strength. This shouldn't even be possible!"

Alix doesn't answer immediately.

Instead, he wipes his blade once on his coat, calm as ever.

Then—just before he shifts his stance again—he gives the man a slow, mocking smirk.

The man's eyes twitch.

And Alix moves.

Like lightning.

The Tier 4 barely has time to lift his weapon before Alix is in front of him.

CLANG—CLANG—SHHK—

The duel is brutal but one-sided.

The man swings wide—Alix ducks.

He slashes high—Alix sidesteps and cuts low.

He tries to retreat—Alix appears behind him in a Flash Step, sword gleaming.

A burning line carves across the man's armor, melting through the plates with surgical precision. He screams, stumbling, barely holding himself together.

"Wait—!"

Alix's eyes narrow.

Tier 4: Flame Sever.

One final slash, perfectly aimed—just below the ribs.

But—

FWOOM.

The golden shield snaps up once more.

Another pillar of light bursts upward, surrounding the second Tier 4.

He vanishes before Alix's blade finishes the cut—his last scream echoing into the forest before fading into silence.

Alix exhales.

Two gone.

Behind him, Karnessa slumps to her knees, her breathing ragged, her face pale but proud.

Meanwhile—

Chaos erupts around them.

From deeper in the trees, the sounds of clashing steel, shouting, and explosions ring out. The other members of the two teams have been scattered across the terrain—dragged by traps, spells, or sheer battlefield momentum.

Solven's voice echoes from far off—"Velira! They're splitting us!"

Gresren crashes through the trees, shield up, yelling, "Regroup! Damn it, they're pushing hard!"

The battle fractures like glass under a hammer.

Branches snap, arrows whistle, spells erupt—the forest becomes a storm of light and steel.

Up on a slanted ridge, Velira moves like the eye of that storm—graceful, lethal, focused.

Her bow hums as she draws another arrow. The prince stands across from her, his stance relaxed but coiled, like a predator humoring its prey. He parries each shot with casual flicks of his sword, energy blooming from the runes on his blade.

The prince, unfazed, his dark-bladed sword—its surface pulsing faintly with Tier 5 mana. His cloak flutters as he steps forward, smirking.

"This is boring," he taunts.

Velira lands softly on a low branch, eyes locked on him. She doesn't answer.

Instead, she draws another arrow, leveling it at the prince.

However, he moves.

He's suddenly in front of her—blade thrusting forward, a stab aimed for her heart.

CLANG!

She twists, just barely deflecting the strike with her bow's reinforced limb. The shock travels down her arm, but she grits her teeth and backflips off the branch, landing on the forest floor.

He follows instantly.

Their blades—his sword and her arrowhead—clash again and again. She spins and weaves with archer's grace, while he moves with a duelist's precision.

But she's being pushed.

He's faster. Stronger.

She knows it.

So she growls out—

"Use the weapons!"

From somewhere nearby, Solven calls back breathlessly, "Is that okay?! We're not supposed to unless—!"

"It's okay!" Velira snaps, ducking under a swing and firing point-blank into the prince's leg. The arrow punches into his armor but doesn't break through.

She rolls away, panting. "We still have one more trump card!"

Solven hears her.

And he doesn't hesitate.

He reaches into the enchanted case strapped to his back—a blackened wooden box sealed with four glowing runes. As he breaks the last one, the air distorts with raw heat.

The case clicks open.

Inside rests a pair of dual crescent daggers, their blades forged from a faintly pulsing white-silver metal, etched with runes that seem to shift when stared at. Light and shadow bend faintly around them.

Failed Tier 6 weapon.

Weapons that almost ascended, but failed.

But still carried tremendous power.

Solven grabs the hilts. The moment his fingers touch them—

BZZZMMM.

Mana floods his veins like fire.

His body jolts.

He bites back a scream as power surges into his limbs—too much, too fast—but manageable. Just barely. The runes on the weapons flare, adapting to his Tier 4 body.

And then—

He disappears.

One of the enemy Tier 5s—tall, wielding an axe—doesn't see the blur until it's too late.

CLANG—CLANG—CLANG—

Solven slams into him from the side with speed he didn't have seconds ago. Each of his dagger strikes hits harder than before—strong enough to dent armor, fast enough to be Tier 5.

The enemy grunts and swings his claymore in a wide arc—destructive, clumsy compared to Solven's precision.

Solven ducks, spins, and drives both daggers into the man's ribs. Sparks fly. Mana burns.

The man stumbles, snarling. "What the hell?!"

At the same time, Gresren—who'd been fending off the Qardon mage—hears Velira's order too.

He growls, "Fine. Let's see how you like this."

He slams his gauntlet into the ground and opens the second case Velira entrusted him with.

Inside:

A tower shield of obsidian and azure alloy, humming with defensive runes. Runes not meant for mortals—Tier 6 prototypes. The weight alone nearly crushes him as he straps it to his arm.

It fuses with his mana.

And suddenly—his body stabilizes. His feet dig into the earth. The ground responds to him.

The Qardon mage fires a bolt of Tier 5 lightning skill.

It hits the shield.

And fizzles.

"What—?"

Gresren marches forward, slow and unstoppable. "Try harder."