Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Alix continues his inspection of the forge, his gaze sharp and discerning. He walks past rows of workstations, noting the progress and challenges faced by his blacksmiths. His attention is drawn to a young salamander, Zorov.

Approaching Zorov, Alix observes the young blacksmith's technique. Zorov, engrossed in his work, senses the presence and looks up, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Your control over the flame is impressive, Zorov," Alix remarks, his tone measured yet appreciative.

Zorov's face lights up with pride. "Thank you, your majesty. I've been practicing, trying to master the techniques Grakkar taught us."

Alix nods, "Your dedication is evident. Continue honing your skills; your potential is significant."

Zorov bows respectfully, his enthusiasm palpable. "I won't let you down, my lord."

Satisfied with the progress, Alix turns and makes his way back to the palace.

Alix strides through the grand corridors of the palace, the rhythmic echo of his boots a familiar cadence against the polished stone floors. The air is cooler here, a stark contrast to the forge's intense heat. He ascends the spiral staircase leading to his working chambers, the weight of leadership pressing upon his shoulders.

Upon entering his working chamber, the scent of parchment and ink greets him. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room. On his desk, a stack of reports awaits, neatly arranged by his aides. He approaches, his eyes scanning the topmost document.

Breaking the seal, he unfolds the report, his gaze sharpening as he reads:

"The war with Ordeya progresses. Our forces continue their advance, meeting minimal resistance. The Bonepiercers Legion from Varkas has ceased its movements. No reinforcements have been requested."

Alix's brow furrows slightly, a contemplative expression settling on his face. He sets the report down, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

"So, Varkas has chosen to withdraw its support from Ordeya," he muses aloud, the words hanging in the quiet room. "This development simplifies our strategy. Without their aid, Ordeya stands vulnerable."

He rises, moving to the window, gazing out over the city below. The sun casts long shadows, signaling the approach of evening. A sense of resolve settles over him.

"Prepare the next phase of our campaign," he instructs, his voice firm. "With Varkas stepping back, we must seize this opportunity to bring Ordeya to its knees."

Turning from the window, Alix returns to his desk, penning directives with swift precision. The path ahead is clearer now, and he intends to lead his kingdom to victory.

In the heart of the recently conquered city, the command room is dimly lit, its walls adorned with maps and tactical charts. General Varkas, stands at the head of the table. Seated around him are the commanders. Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha.

Varkas clears his throat, his voice deep and resonant. "I have received orders from His Majesty. He wants us to end it all."

Sorin leans forward. "General, does that mean we're to attack Ordeya's capital?"

Varkas nods solemnly. "Yes. The time has come to strike at the heart of Ordeya."

Nyssara, whose chitinous limbs glint in the dim light, interjects, "But can we do it? Ordeya has a heritage spanning thousands of years. Surely, they have hidden defenses."

Varkas offers a reassuring smile. "Do not worry. His Majesty has provided me with specialized items for various scenarios. We are prepared."

Sorin's eyes sparkle with admiration. "As expected of His Majesty. He has calculated every possible outcome."

Varkas concludes, "Prepare your units. We move at dawn."

The morning sun casts a golden hue over the spires of Ordeya's capital, its light filtering through the grand windows of the royal palace. Queen Seraphina stands on a marble balcony overlooking the city, her posture regal yet contemplative. The streets below bustle with activity, but a palpable tension hangs in the air.

Behind her, Medren awaits her command. His armor gleams softly in the sunlight, but his expression is shadowed by concern.

"Medren," Seraphina begins, her voice steady, "what do you make of Valgros's silence? They leave us isolated while the enemy encroaches upon us slowly."

Medren steps forward, his tone measured. "Your Majesty, if the roles were reversed, would we act differently? In the face of overwhelming odds, alliances often falter."

A soft chuckle escapes Seraphina's lips. "You're right. It's a bitter truth, but one we must accept."

Medren observes the queen, recalling the skepticism that surrounded her ascension. As the first woman to rule Ordeya, many predicted the kingdom's decline. Yet under her leadership, prosperity flourished. His respect for her has only deepened over time.

Turning to face him, Seraphina's eyes blaze with determination. "We will not surrender. We will fight to the last. Will you stand with me, Medren?"

Without hesitation, Medren kneels, his voice resolute. "With my life, Your Majesty."

The queen places a hand on his shoulder, a silent vow passing between them. Together, they will face whatever challenges lie ahead, unwavering in their commitment to Ordeya.

----

At noon, the horizon darkens as General Varkas's formidable army emerges, a vast sea of over a hundred thousand monster soldiers and eight thousand human troops. Leading this force are Sorin, Nyssara, Thurn, and Veltha, each commanding their specialized units. The defenders of Ordeya, numbering seventy thousand, watch with growing unease as the enemy's strength appears undiminished, even augmented.

From the battlements, a Captain surveys the approaching horde.

"By the gods," he mutters, "their numbers have swelled. This isn't just a siege; it's an overwhelming force."

Beside him, a Lieutenant tightens her grip on her spear.

"We expected them to be weakened," she says, her voice tense. "Instead, they've brought reinforcements."

In the command tower, Queen Seraphina stands resolute, her gaze fixed on the encroaching army. Medren approaches, concern etched on his face.

"Your Majesty, their numbers are vast. Our scouts report no signs of fatigue or depletion among their ranks."

Seraphina turns to him, her expression unwavering.

"Then we must be the wall that holds firm," she declares. "Ordeya's spirit is not measured by numbers but by our resolve."

Medren bows deeply.

The barrier envelops the capital, shimmering with an ethereal glow as it stretches over the city. Medren's eyes narrow, focusing on the unfamiliar weapon among the enemy ranks—a massive cannon pulsating with arcane energy.

Above, General Varkas floats effortlessly, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Humans, as is my custom before an assault, I offer you a choice: surrender."

A tense silence falls over the defenders. Medren steps forward, his voice cutting through the stillness. "We will not yield!"

With a commanding gesture, Varkas signals the attack. The cannon at the rear discharges, unleashing a concentrated beam of raw magical force. The beam strikes the barrier with a deafening roar, and the shield shatters like glass under a hammer.

The defenders gasp in horror. Medren's jaw clenches. He had believed the barrier impervious, capable of withstanding multiple Tier 5 spells. Yet, it crumbles effortlessly.

Mages rush to the frontlines, their hands trembling as they channel mana stones into the barrier's matrix. Energy crackles in the air as they work frantically to restore the shield, but the damage is substantial. The once-impenetrable defense now flickers, unstable and uncertain.

Medren's gaze hardens. "Prepare for the worst," he mutters, steeling himself for the battle to come.

The battle erupts with a deafening roar as Nyssara's shield-wielding units charge forward, their massive shields raised like walls of iron. The ground trembles beneath their synchronized steps, a testament to their discipline and unity. Each shield is not merely a defensive tool but a weapon of destruction, capable of crushing foes with brutal efficiency.

The cannon fires again, its colossal barrel glowing with arcane energy. A blinding beam of magical force erupts from the cannon, striking the city's gate with a thunderous impact. The reinforced gates, once thought impregnable, splinter and crumble under the relentless assault. Debris rains down as the once-mighty barrier falls, leaving the city vulnerable.

Medren watches in horror as the gate collapses. His heart sinks; the city's defenses are failing.

He turns to the mages at his side, urgency in his voice. "We need to reinforce the barrier, now! Channel all available mana into it!"

The mages nod, fear evident in their eyes as they begin the arduous task of rebuilding the shield. Their hands tremble as they draw upon mana stones, their energy flickering like dying embers. The barrier shimmers weakly, a mere shadow of its former strength.

Meanwhile, Nyssara's forces hold the front line. The ground becomes a chaotic as shields clash and spells and arrows rain down. Nyssara herself leads the charge, her arachnid limbs moving with terrifying speed and precision.

"Push forward!!!"

Her units follow her command without hesitation, their shields forming an impenetrable wall as they advance.

Despite the human soldiers efforts, the cannon continues its relentless barrage. Another blast shakes the ground as the cannon fires again, this time targeting the city's walls. The impact sends shockwaves through the defenders, knocking several off their feet. The once-sturdy walls begin to crack and crumble under the sustained assault.

Queen Seraphina stands atop the command tower, her eyes fixed on the shattered barrier and the crumbling gates of Ordeya. The once-impervious defenses now lie in ruins, and the enemy's relentless assault sends shockwaves through the city. Her heart pounds, disbelief etched across her face.

A royal guard rushes to her side, urgency in his voice.

"Your Majesty, it's no longer safe here. We must relocate to the inner sanctum immediately!"

Seraphina's gaze remains fixed on the devastation below. She slowly reaches into her pocket and retrieves a small, intricately carved obsidian pendant. Its surface pulses with a faint, ethereal glow.