Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me-Chapter 64: Delon City

The dimly lit chamber carries the scent of aged parchment and burning incense. City Lord Umbero sits at the head of a long wooden table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished surface. Across from him, Commander Beor stands with a rigid posture, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Beor," Umbero mutters, his voice low but edged with irritation. "Has His Majesty still done nothing about Misorn?"

Beor exhales, shaking his head. "No, my lord. The capital is in chaos. The nobles are fighting the royal family, trying to weaken the royal family’s grip. They aren’t openly rebelling—yet. But their schemes are keeping the king occupied."

Umbero scoffs, leaning back in his chair. "Those useless nobles. What do they think they’ll gain by destabilizing the kingdom?" His grip tightens on the armrest. "Are they blind to the fact that the other two kingdoms will strike the moment we’re weak?"

Beor’s expression remains grim. "I doubt they care. Each faction only sees their own benefit. The moment one noble gains an advantage, the others pull them back down like crabs in a bucket."

Umbero lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temple. "And here we are, waiting for orders from a king who has his hands full with a pack of vultures." He leans forward, his eyes narrowing.

Umbero stays silent for a moment, his fingers tapping against the table once more. "And what of the enemy?"

Beor’s jaw clenches. "Unknown. Whoever took Misorn, they haven’t made another move—yet. But if they come for Delon…" He meets Umbero’s gaze. "We’re not prepared."

A heavy silence falls over the room.

A deep, resonating horn cuts through the quiet of the city. The sound is unmistakable—a warning of an approaching army. The walls of Delon tremble, and the distant shouts of soldiers rushing to their posts echo through the streets.

The door burst open as a young soldier, breathless and wide-eyed, stumbles inside. "M-My lord!" he pants, his face pale with urgency. "A massive army of monsters has appeared outside the city! And—" He swallows hard. "Their leader is requesting an audience with you."

Umbero’s eyes narrow. "Their leader?"

The gates of Delon creak open, and Umbero steps onto the stone-paved road leading beyond the walls. Soldiers line the ramparts above, bows drawn, ballistae loaded, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

The moment he lays eyes on the enemy, his breath catches.

The army before him is unlike anything he has ever seen. Thousands of monstrous warriors stand in disciplined formations, their weapons glinting under the midday sun.

And at the front of them, mounted atop a massive, scaled beast, sits a figure clad in dark, high-quality armor.

A monster… in armor?

Umbero’s grip tightens on his reins as he studies her. She is beautiful—inhumanly so. Long dark hair flows behind her, and her eyes gleam with an intelligence that monsters should not possess.

This is no mindless beast.

The woman’s piercing gaze locks onto him. Then, she speaks.

"Are you the city lord?" Her voice is calm, yet carries the weight of command.

Umbero straightens. "I am Lord Umbero of Delon. And you are?"

"I am Sorin," she replies. "Commander of His Majesty’s army."

His Majesty?

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Umbero frowns. "Who is this ’Majesty’ you serve?"

Sorin doesn’t answer his question. Instead, she tilts her head slightly. "We are here to offer you a choice."

Umbero scoffs. "A choice? What could monsters possibly offer me?"

Sorin’s expression remains unreadable. "Surrender Delon and swear loyalty to the Erevaris Kingdom." She gestures toward the city behind him. "Your people will live, but they will be of lower status than the monsters. You will serve under us, or you will perish."

A wave of murmurs spreads through the gathered soldiers behind Umbero. Fury and disbelief flicker across their faces.

Umbero feels the blood rise to his head. His voice turns sharp. "You dare to look down on humans? On the kingdom of Raltheon?" He grits his teeth. "Do you truly think the kingdom will allow monsters to take human cities? The king will send an army to wipe you out. You and all the filth that follows you."

Sorin meets his rage with cold indifference. "Then he should have protected Misorn."

Silence.

Umbero’s hands tighten into fists.

She’s right.

Misorn was abandoned.

And if Delon falls… no one is coming to save them.

But surrendering to monsters? Never.

His soldiers share his fury. The very idea of kneeling to beasts disgusts them.

A soldier beside him shouts, "We would rather die than serve monsters!"

Another echoes, "Delon will never surrender!"

Umbero said. "If you think you can take this city, try."

Sorin exhales, almost as if she expected this answer.

"Very well," she says softly.

Sorin returns to the monsters, while Umbero heads back to the city.

Sorin then raises a hand and drops it in a swift motion.

"Attack."

The roar of the monster army shakes the air as they surge forward. Within seconds, arrows rain down from Delon’s walls, streaking toward the advancing force. Shields are raised, some arrows bouncing harmlessly off thick monster hides, while others find flesh. The battlefield erupts into chaos.

At the front, Groth steps forward. The old salamander stands tall despite his hunched frame, his molten eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches the humans scramble. His crimson staff pulses with energy, the fire within him begging to be unleashed.

"Let’s start with something small," he muses. Raising his staff, he chants, and a fiery glyph flares to life beneath his feet. "Blazing Smite."

A torrent of flames shoots from the staff, crashing into the city gate. The wood blackens, cracks forming along its surface, but it does not break. A faint golden shimmer pulses around it—an enchantment.

Groth said. "Not bad. But let’s see how you handle this."

His staff glows brighter as he channels his mana. The air around him distorts from the heat, and the ground beneath his feet scorches. His deep, gravelly voice carries through the battlefield as he chants:

"Infernal Surge."