Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me
Chapter 198 - 200: The Death Of The Tier 7 Beast

His voice grows sharper with every word. He looks back at Lathar.

"And what did we get? What did any of us get for it? We're no closer to the peace we all wanted."

Lathar says nothing for a long time.

Then slowly, as if admitting something he's never said aloud: "You're right."

Lathar's jaw tightens as he watches Alix descend once more, his cloak dancing in the heatwaves pouring off the Tier 7 beast.

"With Alix's strength," he says slowly, "we might finally bring peace to our continent."

Brakar smirks, faint and dry. "It's His Majesty Alix now."

They both fall silent again, the battlefield trembling with each breath of the monster.

---

He lands lightly on a chunk of broken stone, the Tier 7 beast still partially pinned by Earthmaw, snarling and writhing, plasma licking at its bindings. Alix watches the creature, his gaze unwavering.

His heart beats steady. His breath even.

But his thoughts race.

"Even with all my buffs, Tier 5 skills alone... they're not enough."

The realization settles like iron in his chest as he watches the guardian begin to break free—muscles rippling beneath lava-slick skin, circuits reigniting across its limbs. Its plasma mane flares once again, surging in fury.

"I'll need more. A clean finish. No drawn-out clash. Which means…"

Alix's eyes flash.

"It's time to combine them."

He raises both hands, energy gathering between his palms—different than before. Not one skill. Not two side-by-side. But two powers woven together, threads pulled tight through a technique almost no one alive could perform.

Dual Casting.

The energy in Alix's hands roils—unstable, brilliant, furious.

Dual Casting.

The battlefield seems to lean in.

"Let's try this..." he murmurs under his breath. "Tier 5 Skill: Infernal Lance. Tier 5 Skill: Stormpiercer Blade."

Flame and lightning spiral into one another, crackling and snarling like wild beasts forced into the same cage. The heat of Infernal Lance, a long, spear-like projectile of hyper-condensed solar flame, clashes violently with the razor precision and velocity of Stormpiercer Blade, a cutting edge of wind and lightning meant to split sky and stone.

But Alix doesn't falter. His hands guide the fusion, forcing them together, layering the offensive matrices, binding their conflicting elemental cores with sheer will and a master's control over mana channels.

Above him, it darkens. Even the Tier 7 beast hesitates—its instincts screaming.

A single blade forms in his hands.

Not a sword.

Not a spear.

But something between—long, jagged, glowing with both internal lightning and external flame. It pulses once, and the entire battlefield winces. The winds howl as if fleeing. Fire bends toward the weapon like a reverent disciple.

The air splits around it.

Even the commanders watching from afar feel their skin crawl. Brakar grips his chest, stunned. "What... is that?"

The Tier 7 beast feels it too.

Its instincts shriek—old and primal. That weapon… that technique… is death.

But it does not retreat.

Instead, it flares.

Its molten mane explodes outward in a spiral of burning plasma. Crimson circuits re-etch themselves across its limbs and chest, deeper, brighter, jagged now with desperation. Its eyes blaze white.

And then it lifts its head—

A guttural howl tears from its throat, shaking the chamber like a collapsing mountain.

"TIER 7 SKILL: STARFALL CORE."

A burning sigil forms above the beast—no longer golden like the solar sigil, but deep crimson, etched with planetary rings and falling stars. It spins once.

The chamber groans.

Everything tilts.

Gravity reverses for a moment, pulling rocks into the air. The temperature spikes to unholy levels as a condensed orb of collapsing flame—not explosion, but implosion—forms at the center of the battlefield.

The beast channels it down its throat.

Alix narrows his eyes.

"...So that's your final card."

With a sharp breath, he throws the combined skills.

The world breaks.

The fusion weapon screams as it slices through the air, and at the same moment—

Starfall Core detonates.

BLINDING LIGHT.

White. Red. Gold. Blue.

A collision of two powers no mortal realm should ever contain.

The chamber howls like a dying god. Walls fracture. The floor splits in spiderweb patterns. The very air turns dense with pressure as flame and thunder clash with imploding gravity and burning stardust.

Screams are torn from throats. Even the commanders—battle-hardened and blessed with resistances—drop. Shields shatter. Mana wards crack.

And then—

A silence.

Not peaceful.

Vacuum.

Empty.

Then—BOOM.

A second shockwave rips outward, hurling dust, stone, and plasma in every direction.

The light fades.

The world settles.

And slowly—cautiously, everyone begin to blink, coughing, stunned.

They find themselves huddled together in the corner of the chamber.

A transparent barrier surrounds them, stretching dome-like over a wide radius. Even the broken ground beneath them seems untouched, held together by some greater force.

Lathar pushes himself up, arm trembling.

Lathar stares.

And it hits him.

"…Did Alix… save us?"

No one speaks at first.

Then a young soldier nods slowly, tears running freely down his soot-covered face. "He did. He… He protected all of us."

The murmurs start soft.

Then grow louder.

A man collapses to his knees, overcome. A woman raises her arm in salute, eyes blazing. An Astram commander stands with clenched fists, his voice hoarse.

And then—

They see him.

A silhouette, hovering above the dead beast.

The Tier 7 guardian lies motionless, half its body melted and cracked open by the Heavenrend Fang. The fused blade is buried deep in its ruined chest, lightning still flickering faintly along the edge.

And above it—

Alix.

Hovering.

Cloak torn and scorched at the hem. Arms at his sides. His body casting a long shadow over the broken colossus below.

No halo.

No title.

Just presence.

A single man, against the impossible.

And he won.

The cheers erupt like a dam breaking.

"ALL HAIL HIS MAJESTY ALIX!"

"Long live the Sovereign!"

"He saved us—all of us!"

"Alix! Alix! Alix!"

The chamber that once held silence and fear now roars with adoration. It echoes off the shattered walls, growing louder, more unified, until even the wounded lift their voices.

Lathar wipes a streak of blood from his cheek, eyes never leaving Alix. "So this… is what it feels like to follow someone who changes the world."

Brakar laughs—raw, broken, hopeful. "No more running. No more blind war."

He clasps Lathar's shoulder.

"We fight for something now."

The ground rumbles.

Cracks race across the scorched stone. Columns groan and buckle. Dust rains down from the high ceiling in thick sheets.

"What the hell?" a young Ember Claw soldier shouts, stumbling as the chamber tilts. "Woah—what is happening?!"

Another points to the ceiling as chunks of stone begin to fall. "This whole place is coming down! How are we supposed to get out of here?!"

All eyes turn to the man still hovering above the fallen beast.

Alix lowers himself slowly, his boots touching down with quiet finality atop the creature's scorched hide. His eyes flicker over the crowd, calm and unreadable.

Then he speaks—loud enough for every soul to hear, even over the chaos of the crumbling chamber.

"So…" His voice cuts through the air like a blade. "All of you… are you ready to become my people?"

A stunned silence.

Then—

Lathar steps forward.

There is no hesitation.

He drops to one knee, his fist pressed to the ground. "I owe you my life, and more. My blade, my battalion, my future—they're yours now, Your Majesty."

One by one, the soldiers behind him follow.

First a few dozen.

Then hundreds.

A thunderous wave of knees hitting stone.

Brakar watches it happen with a quiet, thoughtful look. Then he chuckles and mutters, "Guess there's no turning back now."

He walks to the front of his warband, turns, and drops to one knee beside Lathar.

Brakar's men do the same, hardened warriors bowing their heads without shame.

Commander after commander follows—each of Ember Claw's leaders falling in line, their loyalty sworn without words.

But to the side, the Astram forces remain standing.

They shift uncomfortably. Exchange uncertain glances. Whispers pass between them.

Some grip their weapons. Some lower their gazes.

One commander, tall and gaunt, steps forward.

He looks up at Alix, jaw clenched.

"We've… fought under Astram's banner for years," he says slowly. "But most of us…" He glances back at his weary soldiers. "We didn't have a choice but to follow Astram."

He kneels.

The chamber seems to still for a beat.

"Please," he says, voice low. "Accept me. Let me follow you, Your Majesty."

It breaks the silence.

Another Astram officer follows, then two more.

And then the flood begins.

Soldiers—tired, lost, uncertain—begin to kneel one after another. Some do it slowly, unsure. Others drop down with relief, as if a weight has been lifted from their shoulders.

They kneel not because they were ordered.

They kneel because someone gave them hope.

A new chant begins—softer this time, but no less powerful.

The ceiling splits wide above them.

But before a single stone can fall, a golden pulse flashes from Alix's feet—spreading like a ripple across the entire chamber.

A second barrier expands outward, solidifying just before impact. The falling rubble bounces harmlessly off the shield and scatters to the sides.

Gasps rise from the crowd.

Alix lowers his hand. "Then rise, all of you."

He looks across the crowd—Ember Claw and Astram both now kneeling as one.

"From this moment on," he says, "you no longer serve dying empires. You serve something new."

He steps down from the beast's corpse and onto solid ground.

"Follow me," he says. "And I will build a world worth bleeding for."

They rise.

Alix turns, his eyes scanning the collapsing chamber. The rumble grows louder now—ceiling stones crashing, fractures racing up the walls like lightning. The air is thick with dust and heat, and even the strongest among them can feel the weight of impending ruin.

Brakar frowns. "Your Majesty, this place isn't going to last. If it seals again—"

"We'll be trapped," Lathar finishes grimly.

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