Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me

Then, a notification appears in Alix's mind.

[System Alert: Tolga has sworn fealty. She is now recognized as your subject.]

Alix nods, satisfied. "Good. Then there's no need to wait any longer."

Tolga rises to her feet, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

Alix looks at her, his voice calm but firm. "Start your plan now."

The others tense slightly at his words, exchanging glances.Tolga narrows her eyes.

Alix smirks. "Your forces are ready, aren't they? Why wait until tomorrow? Every second we delay, your sister remains in chains."

The fire in Tolga's eyes reignites.

Thurn chuckles under his breath. "Hah. I like the way you think, Your Majesty."

Groth grins, cracking his knuckles. "No time like the present."

Nyssara simply nods, already considering the strategy.

Tolga takes a deep breath. Then, she smirks—a sharp, dangerous grin. "You're right. We move now."

The five immediately scatter, each moving with purpose. The night is thick with anticipation as preparations are finalized.

Meanwhile, in Misorn City, the streets are alive with festivities. Colorful banners drape over buildings, torches flicker along the stone pathways, and musicians play lively tunes in the town square. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the scent of roasted meat fill the air.

At the city gates, a hooded traveler steps inside, glancing around in confusion. He tugs on a passing man's sleeve. "What's going on here?"

The man grins, already a little tipsy. "Tonight's a grand occasion! Lord Vylan is getting married."

The traveler pauses. His expression shifts. "What?! Who's the unlucky woman?"

The drunken man's grin falters. He leans in, lowering his voice. "It is a woman. But not human."

The traveler stiffens. "…What?"

The man glances around as if checking for eavesdroppers. Then, he whispers, "It's a monster."

A sharp silence stretches between them.

The traveler's eyes widen in shock. "What? Has Lord Vylan finally gone mad?"

The man shrugs uneasily. "Who knows? Some say he's obsessed. Either way, the wedding is happening." He takes another swig from his flask. "And we're all supposed to celebrate it."

The traveler exhales, gaze darkening. "This city has truly fallen into madness…"

Suddenly—

A deep, resounding horn of war reverberates across the city, shattering the festive atmosphere in an instant. The joyous laughter turns into horrified screams. Panic erupts.

Drunken citizens stumble, eyes widening in fear. The music abruptly stops, instruments clattering to the ground as the musicians flee. Soldiers rush to the walls, boots pounding against stone as they scramble to take their positions.

On the ramparts, a young guard grips his spear tightly, his hands trembling. He stares out into the darkness beyond the gates, his face paling.

"…M-Monsters…" His voice barely escapes his throat.

Another guard beside him follows his gaze—and nearly drops his weapon in terror. An army. A sea of monstrous figures—wolves with gleaming fangs, towering ogres, winged creatures circling in the sky—stretching far into the horizon.

One soldier staggers back, his breathing ragged. "T-There's too many…"

The captain, an older man with a scarred face, rushes to the wall, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight. His grip tightens on his sword.

"This is bad." His voice is grim. "There's at least a thousand monsters."

A nearby soldier swallows hard. "Captain… what do we do?"

The captain's jaw clenches. "We hold the line. Alert the archers! Lock down the gates! Prepare the defenses!"

Then, he turns to a messenger. "Go. Report the situation to Lord Vylan immediately."

The soldier hesitates, fear flickering in his eyes. "B-But Captain—"

The captain grabs him by the shoulder, his expression hard. "Now! And send word to the neighboring city! We need reinforcements!"

The soldier stiffens—then nods and takes off running.

The captain exhales sharply, turning back toward the monstrous horde. His knuckles turn white around the hilt of his sword.

From above, Alix and Grixx hover in the air, invisible against the darkened sky. Alix observes the battlefield below, his gaze calculating.

"Five thousand soldiers… plus one thousand adventurers." His thoughts are cold, detached. "Even with their strength, the five will struggle to conquer this city alone, if there are four humans of equal strength to them."

Then—

A massive fireball streaks through the night.

Groth's spell ignites the sky like a second sun, casting an ominous glow over the city. The fireball crashes against the outer walls with a deafening explosion. The force shatters stone, sending fragments raining down onto the panicked soldiers below. Flames spread, licking at the wooden battlements.

The signal has been given.

The monsters roar in unison. Like a tidal wave, they surge forward—a chaos of fur, fangs, and flashing steel.

At the front of the charge, Tolga, Thurn, Nyssara, Veltha, and Groth lead the assault.

Tolga vanishes into the shadows, her form flickering in and out of sight. The moment a group of archers takes position, their throats bloom with crimson. They fall before they even register what killed them.

Screams of pain and terror mix with the roaring battle cries of the invading monsters.

On the city walls, the archers barely have time to react.

Tolga moves like a phantom, her daggers glinting under the firelit sky. She weaves between the panicked soldiers, slashing throats, piercing hearts, and vanishing before their comrades can scream.

A captain sees his men fall and stumbles back. "W-What the hell is—?!"

Tolga appears behind him. A cold whisper in his ear.

"Your worst nightmare."

Her dagger drives through his back. He gasps—then collapses.

Blood pools beneath the bodies, staining the stone. The archers never get a chance to fire.

At another section of the wall, Thurn and Nyssara scale the stone with terrifying ease, their arachnid legs moving in perfect synchronization.

"Humans panic so easily," Nyssara mutters, her ore-coated limbs gleaming in the firelight. "Let's see how they handle true terror."

Thurn smirks, his fangs dripping with venom. "Then let's begin."

He lunges, his massive spider legs impaling a soldier through the chest. The man chokes, his body twitching as Thurn's venom works instantly—his flesh blackens, his eyes roll back, and he drops dead.

A nearby swordsman slashes at Thurn's side.

CLANG.

His blade bounces off Nyssara's armored exoskeleton. She glares at him. "Weak."