Chapter 78: Aftermath

Words : 1022 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

In this chapter, The words ripple through the adventurers like a shockwave. Their leader, their strongest warrior—the one they... Continue reading Chapter 78 of "Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me" for the full story!

The words ripple through the adventurers like a shockwave. Their leader, their strongest warrior—the one they believed to be invincible—has fallen. "Impossible..." one of them whispers, his sword trembling in his grip. "We're finished," another breathes, taking a shaky step back. "If even Sir Grath lost—there's no way we can win this!" The monsters, the so-called mindless beasts they came to slaughter, are standing tall, bloodied but victorious. The pressure weighing down on them is no illusion anymore. It's real. "We have to run!" an adventurer shouts, panic fully gripping him now. "Fall back! FALL BACK!" Like a dam breaking, chaos erupts. Some adventurers immediately turn and flee, their survival instincts overriding any sense of duty or greed. Others hesitate, looking at their fallen comrades, their broken formations—before the fear finally takes hold and they follow. Weapons are dropped. Shields abandoned. The once-mighty force of adventurers—so confident, so arrogant when they first arrived—now scatters in every direction like frightened animals. "Don't leave me—!" One adventurer barely manages to take a few steps before a spear pierces his back. He gasps, blood spurting from his lips as he crumples to the ground. There is no mercy. The defending monsters, their bodies battered and bloodied, do not simply stand by and watch. They advance. With a bestial roar, Veltha coils and launches herself forward, her claws tearing into the nearest fleeing adventurer. Sorin watches from where she stands over Grath's corpse, breathing heavily, her dagger still dripping with his blood. Her eyes flick to the battlefield—watching as the invaders break completely. They thought they were the hunters. But in the end— They were the prey. Sorin exhales, her body screaming in protest as she forces herself to stand. Every wound throbs, her vision blurs for a moment, but she grits her teeth and steadies herself. The battlefield is a sea of corpses, and though the enemy is broken, the fight has taken its toll. Suddenly, a heavy presence appears beside her. "You did a good job fighting a veteran Tier 4 opponent," Varkas says, his deep voice carrying over the battlefield. Sorin turns her head slightly. The towering general stands next to her, with his crimson armor. In his hand, he holds a glass vial filled with a shimmering red liquid. A high-grade healing potion. She takes it without hesitation. "Thank you, General Varkas." Her voice is steady, despite the exhaustion threatening to pull her under. Varkas nods, then hands her four more potions. "Give these to the four," he says, his gaze shifting to the top of the wall. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes narrow slightly. He exhales, shaking his head. "Too bad there was no Tier 5 enemy among them," he mutters. "This kingdom can't possibly be this weak." Sorin pauses, watching him. Varkas crosses his arms, his gaze distant, thoughtful. "Back then," he continues, "our enemies always had Tier 5 warriors. Even Tier 5 were as common as cabbage." He scoffs. "But here... nothing." Varkas doesn't say the rest out loud. If he did, Sorin would be shocked to her core. Tier 5 is already a legend to them. For most of the soldiers standing here, it is something that exists only in ancient records—heroes of the past, mythical figures who shaped history. Sorin, wiping the blood from her dagger, looks over the battlefield. The corpses of fallen adventurers litter the ground, their lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The stench of blood and burnt flesh hangs thick in the air. She tightens her grip on her weapon before turning to the nearest soldier. "Burn all the dead humans," she orders, her voice cold and firm. "We can't leave their corpses rotting here." The soldier nods, immediately relaying the command. Sorin exhales sharply, suppressing the ache in her body as she continues. "As for our fallen... bury them properly. They fought and died for us. They deserve that much." A heavy silence follows. Even in victory, there is loss. At least 500 of their own are dead. The battlefield is filled with their bodies—warriors who had stood beside them just hours ago, now lifeless. But the human adventurers? Over 5,000 dead. Out of the 20,000 that attacked, only chaos and fleeing survivors remain. Varkas glances at Sorin, then at the battlefield. "We won," he states, his voice carrying no pride, only fact. Sorin nods, but she does not celebrate. Their side started with 11,000 soldiers. Now, 500 are gone forever. Victory always comes at a cost. She watches as the soldiers begin their grim task—gathering their fallen comrades, preparing the human bodies for the pyres. The crackling of flames soon fills the air, mingling with the scent of burning flesh. --- The city gates of Eldoria groan as the first wave of battered, bloodied adventurers stumbles through. Their armor is cracked, weapons chipped, and their expressions hollow. The sight is enough to silence the busy streets. Merchants pause mid-sale, guards straighten in confusion, and commoners step back, murmuring among themselves. Then the whispers begin. "The adventurers... lost?" "By the gods, look at them. What happened?" "They were supposed to wipe out the monsters!" Word spreads like wildfire, carrying through the streets, weaving through alleyways, and pouring into taverns. Within hours, all of Eldoria buzzes with the news—the Adventurers' Guild suffered a crushing defeat. Inside a rowdy tavern. Drunken voices rise and fall, filling the smoky air of a packed pub. A group of adventurers, still reeking of blood and dirt, sits slumped around a table, nursing their drinks like lifelines. One of them—a young rogue with a bandaged arm—slams his mug down. "I tell ya, those monsters ain't normal. They ain't just beasts anymore." A burly, half-drunk warrior scoffs. "Bah! You got beat by some oversized rats and lizards?" The rogue glares at him. "You weren't there, dumbass! They fought like an army! Like—like they knew what they were doing!" He leans in, voice dropping. "And their commanders... they were Tier 3. One of them—a damn tier 4 assassin monster—killed Sir Grath. Sir Grath!"

Chapter 78: Aftermath

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