Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me Chapter 74: The Battle Begin

In a large tent near the center of the adventurer camp, five silver-rank adventurers gather around a wooden table. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and the distant crackle of campfires. The mood is a mixture of anticipation and greed.

At the head of the table sits Grath, a Tier 4 warrior at Level 412. His muscular fra is draped in worn but well-maintained armor, and a confident smirk lingers on his lips. He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms with the ease of soone who believes he's already won.

"Alright, that's it for the eting," Grath announces, exuding the cocky air of a man who expects everyone to follow his lead. His gaze flicks toward the walls of Delon City, and his smirk widens. "That delicious monster woman... I'll be the one taking her." He licks his lips as if already savoring his prize.

Across the table, Derek, a Tier 3 warrior at Level 326, lets out a chuckle. He has the look of a battle-hardened rcenary, his armor dented from past skirmishes. He leans forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Hah! If you had a tail, it'd be wagging like a dog in heat," he teases.

Laughter ripples through the group. Marik, a spear-wielding Tier 3 at Level 319, shakes his head, amusent dancing in his sharp eyes. "Sir, how about you don't kill that monster? With your strength, subduing her should be easy. Just... don't break her too much."

Grath's smirk deepens as he shifts his attention to Marik. "What's your na again?"

"Marik, sir," the younger warrior responds without hesitation.

"I like you, Marik," Grath says, his voice carrying a hint of approval. He points at him with a finger, still grinning. "After this battle, you're joining my adventurer group. I could use n like you."

Before Marik can respond, Gavin Rolk, a broadsword-wielding Tier 3 at Level 321, lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Marik, moving up in the world already, huh?"

Joran Fess, the last of the group and a Tier 3 warrior at Level 328, smirks as he runs a whetstone along his dagger. "Better hope you survive first," he mutters.

Grath leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Survival's a given. Those monsters have no idea what's coming."

Outside the tent, the distant sound of sharpening weapons and clinking armor fills the air. The battle for Delon City is about to begin.

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The ground trembles under the march of twenty thousand adventurers. Their armor clinks, weapons gleam under the daylight, and the air hums with tense anticipation.

At the front, Grath rides confidently on his horse, his heavy armor polished enough to reflect the sunlight. His gaze sweeps across Delon City's fortified walls, where the monster army stands in disciplined silence.

With an arrogant grin, he pulls on the reins, bringing his horse to a halt. His voice booms across the battlefield.

"Monsters! Why did you crawl out of your damn forest?" he sneers. "And you had the nerve to attack a human city?"

Silence lingers for a mont, but then Grath's gaze locks onto a particular figure standing at the front of the monster forces. Sorin.

Grath's smirk deepens. "Listen up! If you all withdraw now and hand over your leader as my slave—" he gestures toward Sorin with a lazy wave, "—I'll be generous. You won't all have to die today."

The adventurers behind him chuckle, murmuring amongst themselves. So are already picturing the spoils of war.

But on the walls, Sorin's expression twists in disgust. Her eyes burn with cold fury, and her fingers tighten around the hilt of his dagger.

A low growl rumbles in her throat as she mutters under her breath, "I fucking hate humans."

Then, louder, her voice carrying across the battlefield, Sorin glares down at Grath.

"Human," she spits the word like venom, "do you really think numbers alone will win you this battle? You're nothing but a bunch of weaklings clinging together, hoping that will make you strong."

Grath chuckles, utterly unfazed. "Hah! Is that so? Then why are you hiding behind those walls?" He spreads his arms wide. "If you're so strong, co down and face us!"

The tension in the air thickens.

Behind Sorin, Veltha lets out a quiet chuckle, while Thurn just looking amused, Nyssara look at the humans fiercely, as for Groth he is looking at the human mage. The monster army stands unmoving, eyes locked on their enemies.

He draws his sword, pointing it toward Delon City's gates.

"Attack!"

The adventurer army roars as they charge forward.

From atop the walls, Sorin exhales slowly. His voice is calm, yet carries a deadly promise.

"Archers, ready!!!"

The battlefield erupts.

"Loose!" Sorin's voice rings sharp across the walls.

The sky darkens as thousands of arrows streak downward, slicing through the air like a deathly rain. The first wave of adventurers barely has ti to react. So raise shields, others dive for cover, but the sheer number of arrows makes evasion nearly impossible.

Screams erupt as bodies crumple to the ground, arrows piercing armor and flesh alike. Blood splatters across the dirt as the charge falters, adventurers stumbling over their fallen comrades.

But those at the back press forward, pushing through the chaos, their battle cries rising above the dying.

Nyssara watches, her claws twitching in anticipation. She wants to leap from the walls, to tear through the adventurers like they're nothing—but she knows better. Even with her newly evolved Arachne body, covered in tal-like chitin, she isn't invincible. If she jumps in now, the sheer number of enemies will overwhelm her instantly.

She grits her teeth. Patience.

Thurn, standing beside her, doesn't hesitate. Raising one of his hands, he channels his Arachne tribe's natural poison ability. His sharp fingers glow a sickly green, and with a flick of his wrist, dozens of small, needle-like projectiles shoot toward the adventurers below.

"Poison Rain!"

The tiny spikes pierce exposed skin—necks, faces, arms slipping through armor gaps. At first, the adventurers don't even notice. Then, the poison takes hold.