Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

Zarah and the young troll didn’t hesitate.

There was no silent agreement, no words exchanged—just one, primal understanding between prey: run and do not look back.

And that’s exactly what they did.

Zarah crashed through the underbrush, her breath ragged, the forest whipping past in a blur of motion and panic. Every step jolted through her legs as her feet pounded the cold, damp earth, slick with moss and layers of rotting leaves.

Her bow was clutched tight in one hand, more like a lifeline than a weapon at this point—because she knew damn well she wouldn’t get a shot off before whatever was chasing after her pounced on her. Her lungs burned. Every gasp dragged in the metallic taste of fear mixed with wet bark and decaying soil.

Behind her, the young troll lumbered in escape, its movements heavy but determined. Despite its shorter stride and bulkier frame, it tried to keep up.

But Zarah had speed on her side, her limbs lighter and quicker than the lumbering troll behind her.

She vaulted over a thick root, rolled under a curtain of tangled branches, and risked a quick glance over her shoulder.

But what she saw drained the warmth from her body faster than a blade to the chest.

There it was.

A shadow streaked through the trees behind them—sleek, fast, and deadly. The blur moved so quickly it left afterimages beneath the moonlight.

The Mooncat

wasn’t just chasing them.It was hunting.

And it had chosen its prey.

”No, no, no,” Zarah whispered, legs burning, lungs heaving. She pushed harder, eyes searching for any break in the woods, any rock she could climb or crevice she could wedge into.

But there was nothing.

The blur moved again—closer this time—and then, with a sudden burst of terrifying speed, it blew past them both. A black streak of muscle and menace.

It landed directly in their path.

Zarah dug her heels into the dirt, her momentum nearly sending her tumbling forward. She slid to a messy stop, her breath ripping from her throat in short, ragged bursts. Her heart was slamming so hard in her chest it felt like it might punch a hole through her ribs.

Behind her, the troll crashed to a halt too, letting out a deep, uncertain growl as it locked eyes with the predator now blocking their path.

The Mooncat stood tall, long, powerful, beautiful in a way that made your skin crawl. Its fur shimmered with a velvety gleam, absorbing the moonlight like polished obsidian. Its shoulders rippled as it moved with unnatural grace, muscles coiled beneath its sleek form. And its eyes—sharp, intelligent, and cruel—locked onto Zarah with chilling intent.

The Mooncat tilted its head slowly, like it was evaluating how much effort it would take to kill her. There was no rush in its posture—only quiet confidence.

Then, with a guttural sigh that chilled her to the bone, it opened its jaws and spoke. Its voice wasn’t a growl. It was worse—smooth, controlled, like the sound of velvet hiding a knife.

”Ahh... It’s been a while since I’ve last feasted on goblin flesh.”

The creature purred, exhaling a hot breath that stank of blood.

Zarah froze, her and trembling as she fumbled for an arrow. But she wasn’t fast enough.

The beast exploded forward.

In a blink, it was on her.

She screamed as she was slammed onto the forest floor, the weight of the Mooncat pressing into her chest. Its claws pinned her like steel traps. She struggled, kicking, writhing—but she was helpless beneath its bulk.

”Don’t worry,” it whispered, lowering its head, fangs bared. ”It’ll end quickly.”

Zarah shut her eyes.

But the bite never came.

Suddenly, the pressure lifted. The beast was gone.

Zarah opened her eyes, gasping, and saw the young troll had barreled into the panther, shoving it off her with surprising force. The two beasts rolled in the dirt before separating.

The troll let out a furious roar and lunged, claws out, swiping at the Mooncat with wild abandon.

The Mooncat’s expression shifted to one of sheer boredom. With effortless grace, it weaved to the side, dodging the attacks.

It had no interest in troll meat. Tough skin, thick bones, foul taste—it was more trouble than it was worth. And trolls didn’t die easily.

This one was just a cub, and yet it stood its ground.

Foolish.

Even the full-grown brutes fled when they saw him. This runt thought it could protect a goblin?

”Cute,” the Mooncat muttered.

Then, with a blur of movement, it slashed.

A dozen shallow wounds split open across the troll’s chest and arms. The young creature staggered back, growling.

Zarah rose to one knee, trembling, and fired.

The Mooncat sidestepped easily.

Panicking, she nocked another arrow and fired again. A near miss—this one grazed its side, drawing a thin line of blood.

But it didn’t even flinch.

The beast turned, eyes narrowing into focus, and charged her with terrifying purpose.

Zarah’s hands moved on instinct, loosing one final shot—but the Mooncat ignored it, mouth yawning wide, fangs gleaming as it launched itself toward her face.

And then—something happened.

The air rippled, a faint pop, like the world hiccupped. A shimmer spread across the clearing like a stone tossed into a glassy lake.

Out of nowhere, a boot connected cleanly with the Mooncat’s ribs, sending the massive beast hurtling sideways in a wild tumble of limbs and snarls.

The beast was sent flying, tumbling across the ground in a tangle of limbs and fur before regaining its footing with a snarl.

Zarah blinked.

And standing before her—panting, eyes burning with fury—was Eli.

Her jaw dropped. One moment, she was about to die; the next, he was just there, like he had torn through the fabric of reality.

He turned his back to her slightly, shielding her with his body, and raised his blade—Gravefang, the glowing runes on its edge pulsing with energy.

His voice was low and venomous:

”You piece of shit,” Eli growled.

”You’ll pay for touching my wife.”