Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me
Chapter 204 - 206: Innate Ability: King's Presence

The beam of light dissipates in an instant, sucked back into his body like a reversed explosion. The air settles. Birds begin to chirp faintly in the far distance, hesitant and disoriented.

Alix rises slowly to his feet.

His eyes open—and for a moment, they glow with layered rings of silver and obsidian, the mark of a being who has transcended.

He flexes one hand.

Power coils around his fingers, not wild, not chaotic—but obedient. Calm. Like a storm waiting for permission to unleash.

Alix exhales slowly, the storm of energy ebbing away inside him, leaving behind only clarity… and silence.

Then he speaks, more to himself than anyone else.

"Oh," he mutters, blinking once. "So that's how I get back my innate abilities."

His voice is quiet—curious, reflective—but there's a thread of something deeper woven into it. Memory. Recognition. Awe.

The system hums softly, the floating screen returning—this time not with a notification, but with a glowing icon pulsing in the corner of his vision. Alix focuses on it.

A new window expands.

[Innate Ability Acquired: King's Presence

Effect:

Your very existence applies localized law distortion.

All lower-tier beings within 500 meters will experience passive suppression.

Tier 6 enemies are affected, suppression scaling with disparity in Willpower.

Mental-type creatures may experience instinctive fear.

Cannot be resisted unless by beings of higher tier.]

Alix reads the text slowly, lips parting in faint amusement.

"This thing…" he breathes, tilting his head back toward the sky. "I remember this."

He lowers his gaze again.

In the game, players didn't have innate abilities. That was always something only NPCs got—part of their design. Their bloodlines, their world-building lore.

He walks a few steps across the cracked stone, hands folding behind his back as he looks out over the empty training field. Mana still lingers faintly in the air, curling around him like mist that refuses to fade.

"But," he continues, "there was a way to get them."

A dry chuckle escapes him.

Rare boss drops. Ultra-rare. Even more rare than Divine-tier equipment. Only a handful of players ever found them.

And Alix got one… when he was Level 580.

His eyes narrow, remembering.

"Midnight Throne—that raid boss in the Obsidian Deep. Hidden conditions. Six-hour respawn timer. Required at least five Tier 5 allies. Everyone thought it was just for Divine gear." He shakes his head slightly. "But when we cleared it… I got this." The memory surged up like a tide, sharp and vivid.

He straightens his posture slightly, feeling the shift in air pressure as the passive field reasserts itself. Even the wind seems reluctant to brush too close to him now. The ground beneath his feet remembers the weight of that light. The world is listening.

Then, quietly, he adds to himself:

"And the second one…"

He glances upward, as if peering through time.

"…Level 900."

Alix exhales one last time, the aftershocks of his ascension fading into stillness.

"Well," he murmurs, letting his arms fall loosely to his sides, "that's one thing to look forward to."

His gaze drifts across the silent field, still scarred from the raw pressure of his level-up. The stones are cracked. The air is warmer. Reality itself feels thinner at the edges.

"But first…" he mutters, lips curling faintly, "I need to test this strength."

He doesn't rush.

He takes his time—letting the sensations settle, grounding himself with each step. The training field feels smaller now. Tamer.

----

After some time, Alix walks toward the exit, the familiar archway of dark-stone pillars greeting him like quiet sentinels. As he crosses it, the world seems to breathe again—birds chirp more confidently, and the wind returns with a rustle of leaves.

Waiting just beyond the path is Ruva, perched on a carved stone bench with her feet dangling. She's holding a plate with a generous slice of cake—and more importantly, a sweet smile.

She spots him immediately and lifts the plate high like a prize. "Took you long enough, big brother!"

Alix raises an eyebrow as he walks up. "You waited?"

Ruva swings her legs, tail flicking behind her. "Of course I waited! You said I could eat your share if you didn't come, but then I thought, maybe you'd crawl out of the ground all glowing and dramatic and stuff." She gestures grandly with the fork, almost dropping it. "And you did! So I saved it."

Alix glances at the cake—fluffy, soft, and iced with pale green frosting. "That mine?"

Ruva grins wider and pulls it slightly closer to her chest. "It was. But now you have to earn it."

He crosses his arms, looking faintly amused. "Earn it?"

"Yup!" she says, pointing the fork at him like a scepter. "You have to show me your new powers. Come on, just one cool thing! You were in there forever, and I know something insane happened. The wind went still. The sky got dark. And the birds all flew away. Even the bugs went silent!"

Alix exhales, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You were watching?"

"I was eating and watching." She pats her belly. "Had time for two pieces."

Alix steps closer, then suddenly—moves.

Not with noise. Not with effort. Just pure speed.

One instant, he's three meters away. The next, he's crouching directly in front of her, his hand already under the plate.

Ruva yelps, eyes wide. "Hey!"

"I earned it," Alix says, lifting the plate calmly as if nothing just happened.

"You cheated!" Ruva protests, but she's laughing, half trying to swipe it back. "That doesn't count, that was like a blink!"

"Phase-shifted dash," Alix says mildly. "Refined version. I moved without dragging mana across the field."

She stares, ears twitching. "You didn't even make a sound. That's creepy."

"It's efficient."

"Still creepy," she mutters, pouting.

----

Back in Caeland Continent

High atop of a clip, the wind howls, cold and sharp as a blade. Below, the sprawling land of Caeland stretches to the horizon—jagged mountain passes, blackened plains, and scorched forests now trampled beneath the tread of a tide no one could stop.

One hundred and fifty thousand Bonepiercer Legion soldiers now stand in disciplined, perfect rows across the valley. Clad in ancient armor, faces hidden beneath visored helms, weapons gleaming with eerie runes, they do not speak. They do not shift. They do not breathe. Their presence alone feels like a weight pressing down on the world.

Veyrith stares at them in silence, his arms folded, red cape fluttering behind him. His jaw clenches slightly.

"… A real monsters," he mutters.

The silence stretches, heavy, until Veyrith speaks again—his voice quieter, less rigid.

"Our decision to bow down really saved our lives," he admits.

Astram gives a short grunt of agreement.

Veyrith nods toward the legion. "Those Bonepiercers alone could flatten this whole continent. No exaggeration. We both know it."

He glances sideways, eyes narrowing.

"In all of Caeland, there are only fifteen Tier 6s. Ten are unaffiliated. You and my forces make up the other five."

Astram's brow furrows. "We were the powers. Us, and a handful of stubborn monsters hiding or building thier own forces. Now?" He shakes his head slightly. "We're barely footnotes."

The Bonepiercers shift as one—only slightly, like a breeze through a field of razors. The air groans with tension.

"They don't obey fear," Veyrith says slowly. "Or greed. They don't ask for food, or rest. They don't even seem to need direction."

Astram grunts. "They only need him."

He doesn't need to say the name. Veyrith knows who he means.

There's a long pause before Veyrith said, more quietly, "Do you think he'll really stop with just this continent?"

Astram chuckles dryly. "Do you think a king who have this much power ever plans to stop?"

Astram says nothing.

The two warlords stand in silence for a while longer, watching the legion below. From here, they look less like soldiers… and more like a wall, an unbreakable barrier.

Veyrith runs a hand through his hair, then mutters, "We were gods here. Now we're just his shadows."

Astram doesn't reply immediately. His gaze remains fixed on the field of death beneath them.

Then, quietly, he says, "I'd rather be the shadow of a king than the ghost of a dead era."

Veyrith lets out a breath, slow and resigned.

"Yeah," he says. "Me too."

----

A Month Later

It took one month to make the Caeland Continent his.

Cities were claimed. Castles restructured. Armies disarmed—or absorbed. Old warlords bent the knee. Those who didn't were removed.

Veyrith and Astram enforced the new order. Tier 5 warlords became border stewards. The entire continent became one machine, tuned to a single will.

His will.

Alix sat alone in his working chamber. Before him floated the familiar screen, quiet but always watching. He looked at it, fingers steepled, expression unreadable.

[ALIX]

Level: 600

Population: 54,758,026

Sovereignty: 500,000,000

Gold Coins: 40,090,637

A long silence passed.

Then, he leaned back.

"Fifty-four million," he said softly.

The screen did not respond.

He tapped one finger against the polished table. "Not bad for a first continent. But I need ten times that."

He stood slowly, eyes shifting to the large window carved into the rear wall. From here, the entire capital sprawled before him.

Alix's eyes narrowed.

"Next continent," he murmured.

Alix turns away from the window.

The quiet hum of the system fades into the background as he walks back to his wide stone desk, polished and smooth, set at the center of the chamber. A faint shimmer of mana surrounds the space—silent guardians woven into the walls.

He pulls out the rolled parchment resting at the corner of the desk. Thick. Old. Edges slightly singed, as if it had been through war.

The map Astram gave to him.

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