Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

As he continues, a group of orcs and lizardfolk sit at a makeshift tavern, drinking and sharing tales.

"I heard one of the minotaurs broke a training dummy clean in half," an orc rumbles. "Just with a headbutt!"

The lizardfolk flicks his tongue thoughtfully. "Who would've thought that we monsters would have a day like this."

The orc leans back, his drink sloshing slightly in his mug. "Do you know the appearance of our king? He made all this, made us live comfortably. We should at least remember his face, we don't even know our king's name."

The lizardman shrugs, his scaled tail curling lazily. "No one knows the appearance of our king. There's a rumor, though that the capital city of the kingdom is so majestic that soldiers say it's like something out of a storybook."

The orc grunts, a hint of envy in his tone. "That's right. I tried to apply to become a soldier, but I didn't pass. Those who make it into the capital never want to leave. Must be something to see."

Similar conversations echo throughout the streets, from the lively market corners to the shadowed alleys. Stories of the unseen king who united them all are shared by old warriors and young monsters alike. Alix listens quietly, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint smile. It's a curious experience to hear his own mythos recounted to him, exaggerated and reshaped by each telling.

Eventually, Alix's steps take him to the heart of Misorn, where several inns stand side by side. Some are modest, catering to travelers passing through, while others boast larger, more established presences. However, at the center of it all stands The Iron Hearth Inn, one of his blueprints.

The building's structure is solid and polished. The walls are reinforced stone, but the windows and archways have artistic carvings that reflect a monster's craftsmanship.

He steps inside, and the atmosphere is immediately welcoming. Laughter and conversation fill the air. A group of goblins bicker playfully with a troll bartender, while a gnoll waitress serves drinks with a toothy grin. Despite the diversity of the patrons, there's a sense of camaraderie, like everyone here belongs.

Alix notes the staff, efficient, polite, and seamless in their work. The blueprints he created, just like in the game, don't only provide the structure but also the people to maintain it. Workers who seem as if they have their own lives, personalities. It still amazes him sometimes, how the game mechanics have molded reality here.

As Alix steps deeper into the bustling inn, several staff members glance his way. There's a brief flicker of recognition in their eyes, a glimmer that tells him they know exactly who he is, their king, their creator. Despite his changed appearance, no disguise can fool those born from his blueprints.

But Alix's thoughts reach out, a silent command that echoes through their minds. "Just act like I'm not here."

"Welcome to The Iron Hearth! What can I get for you today?" she asks, her voice chipper and genuine.

Alix smiles, playing the part of a regular customer. "Just a meal, something hearty. And a drink to go with it."

"Coming right up!" the gnoll chirps, jotting down the order before moving away.

Alix chooses a seat near a window, his gaze drifting over the lively patrons. Conversations overlap, adventurers boasting of their hunts, traders discussing deals, a trio of young goblins eagerly planning to explore the dungeon.

As Alix quietly eats his meal, a group of monsters at the table beside him start a lively conversation. There are two wolfkin, a lizardfolk, and a Satyrs, their plates half-empty and mugs clinking occasionally.

"Hey, do you guys want to check out the new dungeon that's about to open?" The wolfkin says, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Yeah, I do!" the Satyrs replies eagerly. "But I heard you need to be at least Tier 2 to enter it, or have a Tier 2 in your group."

The other wolfkin grumbles, scratching his head. "Tier 2, huh? I'm still Tier 1... barely got any skills worth bragging about."

The lizardman leans back with a smug flick of his tail. "Well, then you're in luck. I just broke through to Tier 2 yesterday."

The group pauses, staring at the lizardman in surprise.

"Seriously?" the Satyrs asks, his eyes wide. "That's awesome!"

The orc with the chipped tusk slaps the lizardman's shoulder with a hearty laugh. "Looks like we got our ticket, boys! With a Tier 2 in our group, we can explore that dungeon!"

After finishing his meal, Alix leaves The Iron Hearth Inn and continues his exploration of Misorn. The streets remain lively, filled with monsters of all shapes and sizes, each seeming to have found their own place in this growing city.

Despite knowing that Thano had limited resources, Alix feels satisfied with what he sees. The city has a sense of life, a vibrancy that no human settlement he's visited could replicate. Even with the iron-tier blueprints, the buildings surpass what the three human kingdoms could build.

With a thought, Alix teleports to Delon, the city known as the hub of blacksmiths and artisans. As he appears in the heart of the city, the sound of hammers clanging on anvils and the crackling of forges fills the air. Monsters with soot-covered faces, some carefully etching intricate designs on weapons, and even shaping raw iron with ease, it all unfolds before him.

A pair of cyclopses argue loudly over the best way to temper a massive greatsword. A kobold with delicate, precise movements inspects a set of jeweled daggers, ensuring the balance is just right.

"Hey, I told ya, quenching it too fast will make it brittle!" a cyclops bellows, waving a hammer.

"Bah, and I said it'll hold just fine! We ain't making decorations here!" the other retorts.

Nearby, a old monster instructs a young ogre on shaping armor plates.

"Steady, keep your strikes measured. Armor isn't just metal—it's protection," the minotaur rumbles.