Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

Truth be told, I hadn’t been sure it would work. I had only repeated what Narg once forced on me, back when he made me swear not to harm any member of the clan. The phrasing, the invocation of Drugar’s name—it had been a gamble, nothing more.

Yet the result spoke for itself. The chains, the agony, the binding effect—every part of it had been real.

It seemed any goblin, not just shamans, could invoke Drugar’s authority to forge an oath that tethered words to consequence. A terrifying revelation, but one I could use.

Her voice cut through my thoughts again, harsher this time, more demanding than before.

”What did you do to me?”

Ariel’s body trembled as she spoke, her voice strained. She looked as though she wanted nothing more than to lunge at me—ears flattened, tails lashing, every inch of her bristling with anger.

She could try, but we both knew how that would end. One of us would suffer, and it wouldn’t be me.

I scoffed and met her glare with calm dismissal, my tone deliberately casual, almost bored. ”You swore an oath, did you not?”

Her lips parted as if to spit back an argument, but nothing came. The truth bound her tongue as tightly as the chains had bound her heart. She had sworn. She just hadn’t believed the words would carry weight.

”Why?” I pressed, tilting my head slightly, my voice colder now. ”Did you think I’d simply take your word for it? I am not an idiot, little fox.”

Her teeth clicked together sharply, the sound bitter and grating—frustration spilling out in the only way she could show it.

I leaned closer, hardening my expression. ”The pain you felt just now—that is the same pain you’ll feel if you ever decide to break your promise. Etch it into your memory before you even think of trying something stupid.”

With that, I turned my back on her, brushing dust from my knuckles as though the matter were already settled. ”Now that we’re done here... how about we return?”

There were still tasks waiting for me. The system’s daily quests weren’t going to complete themselves, and leaving them undone was never an option. Progress was progress, no matter how small.

More importantly, Zarah and the others needed to grow stronger. The ambush earlier had been a sharp reminder that threats to the clan weren’t going anywhere. If anything, they would multiply. My goblins had to be able to defend themselves without me hovering over them every step of the way.

So I started back toward the cave, my pace steady, Gravefang resting against my shoulder. I didn’t bother glancing behind me to check if Ariel followed. Whether she trailed after me or not was her choice.

The truth was, I didn’t care. Not really. As long as she stayed clear of my clan and kept her claws and flames away from them, then we would be fine. Whatever else she decided to do with herself was her problem, not mine.

By the time I reached the front of the cave, I found Zarah standing with Narg, Thok, and a handful of the others clustered beside her. Their faces were tight with worry, eyes locked on the treeline as though they expected me to come crawling back broken—or not at all.

I couldn’t blame them. From their perspective, the situation had to be baffling. One moment I left them behind, the next I returned unconscious with a fox at my side—one bold enough to claim she was my master. If I were in their shoes, I’d be questioning everything too.

As soon as they caught sight of me, their tense expressions melted into relief. They moved as one, closing the distance quickly, though Zarah pushed herself ahead of the others, her bow slung across her shoulder, her sharp eyes scanning me over.

”Chief, are you alright?” she asked, her voice clipped but urgent.

I gave her a small nod. ”I’m in one piece.”

Her gaze flicked past me, narrowing slightly. ”And the fox? Did you deal with it?”

Zarah’s question had barely settled in the air when Ariel emerged from the treeline, padding toward us with slow, deliberate steps.

I spared her a brief glance. The wounds I had inflicted were gone, her fur clean once more, her flames burning steadily along her tails. She had recovered enough to wear her pride again, her posture regal, her movements smooth. But her eyes betrayed her—behind the façade of composure, simmering spite lingered, sharp and focused on me.

The goblins noticed her instantly. Every one of them stiffened, bodies snapping to alertness. Weapons were drawn in a heartbeat—bows raised, spears leveled, blades gleaming in the dim light. To them, she was still the same threat who had knocked them unconscious earlier, and no recovery on my part could erase that memory.

Narg in particular looked ready to explode. His lips curled, teeth bared, his staff clutched so tightly his knuckles went white. Energy crackled faintly at its tip as he began to summon power, anger boiling over.

Before he could release it, I stepped forward and pressed my hand firmly on the shaft of his staff, pushing it down. My voice was calm, deliberate.

”It’s fine. She will not harm you.”

”I’m not so sure about that, Chief,” Narg muttered, his grip still tight on the staff, his eyes locked on Ariel with unyielding fury. ”She knocked us out earlier. She is dangerous.”

He wasn’t wrong. That was exactly what she had done. But the thought struck me—why hadn’t she killed them when she had the chance? If her plan had been to isolate me, to strip away distractions so I could only focus on her, then that would’ve been the perfect time. Yet she hadn’t.

Well, it didn’t matter now.

”It will be fine,” I repeated, firmer this time. My gaze swept across the gathered goblins. ”I made her swear an oath in Drugar’s name. She cannot harm any of you. Not without paying the price.”

The weight of those words settled over them.

And I watched as the tension bled from their shoulders.

Narg loosened his grip, lowering his staff reluctantly, the crackle of energy fading away.

One by one, the others eased as well, though wariness still lingered in their eyes.

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