Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Esekaid Along With Me

The morning sun bathes the land in a golden hue as the carriage ascends into the clear sky. Alix sits back in the cushioned interior, gazing out of the small window. Within moments, he spots the silhouette of Gilderock on the horizon—its stone walls and clustered rooftops forming a sharp contrast against the forest surrounding it.

Alix said. "Stop here. Keep us far from the town."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The carriage hovers just above the ground, its soft hum fading. Alix steps out, his boots crunching on the forest floor. He inhales deeply, taking in the fresh scent of trees and earth.

Alix turns to the lizardman guard, his expression sharp but calm.

"Remember, don't call me 'Your Majesty' inside. Just call me Alix."

The lizardman's golden eyes widen briefly before he nods.

"Y-Yes, Your Maj— I mean… Sir Alix." Alix smirks, noting the guard's unease.

The royal guard doesn't know whether to feel honored or terrified.

They tread through the forest until they stumble upon a dirt road. It winds lazily through the trees, leading straight to the town in the distance.

"Stay close," Alix instructs as they begin walking along the road.

The air grows busier with distant chatter, the clinking of tools, and occasional roars of creatures. By the time they reach Gilderock's outskirts, the sun fully illuminates the town.

It's packed with monsters of all shapes and sizes. Hulking ogres haul wooden crates, their muscles rippling under the strain. Winged harpies glide between crumbling rooftops, screeching at one another. Goblins haggle loudly over stolen trinkets, their shrill voices cutting through the general chaos.

Alix narrows his eyes as he takes it all in. The town is a mess. Wooden shacks lean precariously against one another, stone buildings have chunks missing, and the streets are uneven and littered with debris.

"This," Alix mutters, his tone laced with disdain, "is what they call a town?"

The lizardman looks around nervously, unsure how to respond.

"It's… functional. At least for us monsters."

They push their way through the crowded street. A bulky ogre nearly crashes into Alix, snorting in irritation before lumbering away. A group of orcs argue loudly over a broken cart, while a goblin merchant tries to hawk rusted weapons from a creaky stall.

Alix thought, 'Damn, this place feels like a fever dream. The noise, the smell, the clutter—it's overwhelming.'

He feels like he's walking through a bizarre nightmare, yet no one spares them a second glance. It's exactly as he wanted.

His eyes flick to the lizardman beside him, now clad in simple, dull leather armor. Alix had ordered him to leave his golden royal guard armor in the carriage to avoid drawing attention. It seems to be working.

Then Alix remembers something—his system. He thinks, 'I should use it to check these monsters' levels.'

Focusing on a passing ogre, he activates the system. A translucent status screen materializes before him, displaying the creature's information.

[Ogre: Level 30]

He narrows his eyes and shifts his focus to a pair of bickering goblins.

[Goblin: Level 8]

Turning his gaze to a harpy perched on a rooftop, the screen changes.

[Harpy: Level 20]

Alix frowns. He scans the street, checking various monsters at random. The highest level he finds is a burly orc struggling to lift a massive crate.

[Orc: Level 25]

They're all so weak, he thinks, his disbelief slowly turning into amusement. Is this entire town made up of low-level mobs?

The lizardman guard notices Alix's expression shift and hesitates. "Sir Alix… is something wrong?"

"No," Alix says, smirking faintly. "Just realizing how fragile this place really is."

The lizardman looks confused but doesn't press further.

--------

Meanwhile, just outside Gilderock, a caravan of wagons rumbles along the dirt road. At its head, a group of five adventurers walks in formation, their gear glinting in the sunlight. The leader, a grizzled man with a scar running down his left cheek, surveys the area with sharp, calculating eyes. His name is Doran, and his level 50 status is evident in his confident gait and the intricate, rune-etched sword at his side.

"Alright, listen up," Doran calls out, his voice firm but calm.

"I know we've done this a dozen times already, but that doesn't mean you get to slack off. We're heading into monster lord territory, so stay alert."

A tall woman with short-cropped red hair, clad in white and gold healer's robes, scoffs. Her name is Lina.

"Captain, we know the drill," she says, adjusting her staff. "It's been years, and nothing bad's ever happened."

Doran gives her a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable.

"Complacency gets people killed, Lina. You should know that."

"Relax, Captain," another adventurer, a burly man with twin axes strapped to his back, chimes in. Tarak grins, his teeth flashing under his thick beard. "Even if we run into trouble, we're more than capable of handling it."

Beside him, a wiry man with a bow slung across his shoulder—Ren, the group's sharpshooter—nods in agreement.

"He's right. With you at level 50 and us backing you up, nothing out here stands a chance."

A younger warrior, Kiel, carrying a broad shield, looks over nervously.

"Still… it is a monster lord's territory. Maybe we should be more careful." His voice is tinged with uncertainty, betraying his relative inexperience.

The merchant riding atop one of the wagons pipes up, chuckling.

"You all worry too much. That monster Refu is not stupid. If he harmed us, the city master would wipe him and his little town off the map. He knows better."

Doran sighs, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"Maybe. But it's not just Refu I'm worried about. We don't know what other creatures roam this area. So, until we're out of Gilderock, everyone keeps their guard up."

The group falls into a tense silence, the sound of the wagon wheels creaking and horses snorting filling the air.

Shortly after, they finally arrive at the outskirts of Gilderock. The gates creak open, revealing the chaotic streets packed with monsters of every kind. As the caravan rolls in, the bustling crowd begins to part.