Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

Whoa.

The spiked club came swinging toward my head, and I narrowly ducked under it.

Before I could recover, another wild swing followed, forcing me to leap backward.

This goblin was fast.

Faster than the others.

I frowned, studying him as he kept his weapon raised, his stance aggressive but cautious.

Why was he attacking me? Weren’t we supposed to be on the same side?

Curious, I checked his identity.

[Zzok, Goblin Warrior, Level 2.]

My eyebrows shot up. Level 2?

That made him the highest-level goblin here.

All the others were barely scraping by at Level 1.

Like I said: Mobs.

I figured Zzok must be their leader as his level was the highest.

Zzok narrowed his eyes at me, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Confusion and wariness mixed in his expression, like he couldn’t figure out whether to attack again or demand answers.

”You,” he finally said, his voice rough and strained. ”What did you do?”

He was still gripping his spiked club tightly, and I could see the tension in his muscles, ready to strike if I made a wrong move.

I smirked, keeping my posture relaxed.

”What did I do? Oh, you mean saving your sorry green butts from the hobgoblin lieutenant? Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Zzok didn’t look convinced.

His eyes darted to the cliff, then back to me, clearly struggling to piece together what had just happened.

”You’re lying,” he said, taking a cautious step forward. ”No goblin is that strong.”

”Buddy,” I said, spreading my arms in mock surrender.

”You’re looking at the exception.”

Zzok’s whole body seemed tense, adrenaline coursing through him.

His grip on the spiked club tightened, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at me.

”I saved your pitiful lives. You’re welcome,” I said with a shrug, as casual as I could manage. It was the truth—the hobgoblin lieutenant would’ve wiped the floor with them if I hadn’t intervened.

So why the anger?

Zzok scowled, his voice dripping with suspicion. ”Are you from the clan? I no recognize you.”

His broken grammar made me want to roll my eyes, but I let it slide. More concerning was how I even understood him in the first place.

Right. Because I’m a goblin now.

Duly noted—I kept forgetting that part.

For fun, I decided to mirror his speech pattern.

”I kill hobgoblins. Everyone happy,” I said seriously, matching his bad grammar with my own.

Mirroring at its finest.

Look at me, trying to be social.

”Drop your weapon and say thank you, or else I kill you too,” I said with a friendly smile, my tone calm and pleasant—like I was offering tea.

The effect was... less than ideal.

Zzok’s eyes flared, his grip tightening on his spiked club. Around us, the other goblins bristled, their weapons raised and pointed in my direction. The air grew thick with hostility as growls and snarls filled the space.

Seriously?

Why the anger? Where was the gratitude? Was it really that hard to thank someone who just saved your asses?

Okay, fine.

Maybe threatening their leader wasn’t the most diplomatic move. But still.

I wasn’t scared, though. Not in the slightest.

Because I knew something they didn’t—I really could kill them all if I wanted to.

Zzok seemed to sense it too.

His wary gaze darted over me, scrutinizing every inch like he was trying to figure out what made me so confident. Then his eyes landed on my shoulder.

The change was instant.

His aggressive stance melted away, and his expression turned docile, almost reverent.

Curious, I glanced at my shoulder and froze.

A sleek, ominous tattoo stared back at me—a skull etched in dark ink, its hollow eyes almost seeming to glow.

Cool.

I’d always wanted a tattoo, but something about this one felt... different. Dangerous.

I doubted it was just ink on the skin thought.

A slave mark?

Nah it has to be a mark of something far more significant.

Zzok’s reaction confirmed my suspicion.

His spiked club hit the ground with a dull thud as he dropped it, his gaze shifting from wary to downright reverent.

I blinked, confused.

Where had the murderous intent gone?

”Forgive my rudeness,” Zzok said, bowing his head slightly. ”I did not realize... goblin blessed by Drugar.”

”Dru-who?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

The name didn’t ring a bell, but it clearly carried weight.

The other goblins seemed to think so too.

They began murmuring among themselves, their whispers filled with awe and fear.

”Drugar... Drugar...”

The goblins were looking at me like I was some kind of celebrity, their eyes filled with a mix of awe and desperation.

Honestly? I wasn’t hating the attention.

But there was something I needed more than their reverence right now—answers.

Zzok then stepped forward his voice trembling slightly as he spoke.

”Totem, we need your help. Chief fights hobgoblins on the other side. We hold this side, but Chief... Chief needs backup. Totem must help!”

Totem?

Hold up. Since when did I get a fancy title?

And what the hell is a totem?

Things were spiraling out of hand.

System, care to explain what’s going on here?

I waited.

Nothing.

No pop-ups, no glowing text.

Screw you Gandalf.

”Alright then, let’s go save Chief,” I said, cracking my knuckles.

Honestly, I wasn’t doing this out of the kindness of my heart.

I needed more kills to level up, and if helping their Chief got me there, so be it.

Not like I had much to lose... except maybe my sanity.

Though, let’s be real—I was starting to doubt I had much of that left.

We sprinted toward the base, the goblins flanking me like a ragtag squad of green minions.

Every now and then, I caught them sneaking glances my way.

Seriously, guys, you’ll make me blush.

As we ran, my gaze landed on the goblin I’d saved earlier.

The one I slapped for being stupid.

He was behind, pretending he didn’t notice my gaze.

I reduced my pace, coming alongside him.

”Hey,” I said, grinning.

He flinched, eyes darting anywhere but at me.

Bro was really trying to avoid me.