Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

”Eeee... huuuuuh,” I groaned out, the sound tearing from my chest as I let the massive boulder thud onto the ground.

My arms ached, my shoulders burned, but the weight sliding off me left a strange satisfaction in its wake.

Another task was finished.

[Daily Quest Progress:]

• Sprint for 3 kilometers – (Complete)

• Scale a steep hill or tall tree – (Complete)

• Carry 25–40kg of rocks or logs for 10 minutes – (Complete)

• Evade 20 thrown projectiles – (Incomplete)

”One more to go,” I muttered under my breath, exhaling long and slow.

When I turned, the sight that met me was chaos.

Zarah was locked in a frantic clash with what looked like a monstrous boar high on fury itself, its massive body rippling with muscle, foam frothing from its mouth as it charged. Its tusks were spread wide like the horns of a bull, gouging through the dirt as it tried to gore her outright.

Zarah stood her ground, loosing arrow after arrow, each shaft thudding into its hide, riddling its body but failing to slow the beast as much as I would have liked.

Her bowstring sang with tension, her face taut with concentration, yet there was no hesitation in her movements.

She had sprinted the three kilometers, pushing herself without complaint, and afterward I had deliberately set her against weaker monsters to help her grow stronger.

The boar she was locked against now was level eight, one step above her current strength.

Zarah herself sat at level seven, having clawed her way upward in quick succession.

She had gained two levels from the brutal clash with Amon’s goblin and another from the string of low-tier monsters I had pushed her to face afterward.

Three more levels, that was all she needed, and then she would finally be ready to evolve.

What form that evolution would take, I couldn’t say.

Would it be something as dramatic and transformative as Narg’s, reshaping her entirely, or would it be a more subtle shift, like the straightforward growth of Thok, Zhok, Dribb, and Gobbo?

I didn’t know, but I was certain of one thing: whatever Zarah evolved into, it would not be ordinary.

She had a sharpness, a spirit, that made it impossible for her path to be anything less than remarkable.

Another arrow hissed free from her bowstring, thudding deep into the boar’s thick hide and joining the cluster already buried in its flesh.

The beast let out a guttural screech that vibrated through the clearing, its eyes rolling with fury as it lowered its head and barreled forward with reckless speed.

But Zarah was faster, her movements sharp and nimble, her body slipping just out of reach with a fluidity that showed both instinct and discipline.

She sprang backward in a clean leap, her bow already drawn before her feet even touched the ground again.

The arrow snapped loose, whistling through the air and striking deep into the beast’s leg, forcing it to stumble with a guttural roar.

Before it could recover, she had already notched another and released, the shaft driving straight into its skull with a sickening thud.

The monstrous boar shuddered, staggered forward a few steps, and then collapsed in a heavy heap, the fight driven out of it for good.

The clearing went quiet again, save for the sound of Zarah’s breathing.

She exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling as the tension finally slipped from her shoulders.

Her bow lowered, and she turned toward me, her expression caught somewhere between pride and disbelief at her own victory.

She walked over, scratching the back of her neck as though suddenly self-conscious now that the danger had passed.

”I won,” she said simply, though her tone carried far more than those two words could.

I couldn’t help the grin that pulled at my face as I caught the look in her eyes saying:

Did you see that?

Oh, I saw it. I saw everything.

I knew firsthand what she was capable of with that bow, but seeing her stand there, victorious and steady, still struck me in a way I hadn’t expected.

Out of habit, I called upon [Analyze], the familiar pane of information flickering into view.

[Zarah – Level 9 | Goblin Archer]

Level nine. Just one step away. One more battle, one more kill, and she would break through into an entirely new realm of strength.

”What are you looking at, Chief?” she asked suddenly, her head tilting as she caught me staring. ”Is something above my head?”

I shook my head, forcing my expression into something calmer.

”No,” I said evenly. ”You’re almost there. One more kill, and you’ll likely be standing at Narg’s level.”

Her eyes lit up at that, a grin breaking across her face, raw excitement brimming in her expression.

I held out my hand toward her, my voice steady:

”Let’s go...”

I had already marked another target for her to face, a monster that would push her just enough to close the gap to her next level.

Running there, though, would only waste time and energy we didn’t need to spend.

Zarah’s hand hovered for a moment, hesitation flickering across her face as though she were suddenly shy — as if we hadn’t already clasped hands four times already.

But eventually her palm settled into mine, warm and tense, and I closed my grip firmly around hers.

In the next heartbeat, I folded space and dragged us both through.

The world blinked away, and when it snapped back into place, we were balanced on the broad, sturdy branch of a towering tree. The bark beneath my boots was rough, the wind swaying us gently, but my attention was fixed downward.

Below us stood a beast tearing into a corpse with brutal efficiency.

It was avian in shape, resembling some twisted mockery of an ostrich, but with far deadlier properties. Its body was thick with muscle beneath the feathers, and its talons — massive, hooked, and sharp enough to glint in the dim light — looked like they could crush stone itself with a single stomp.

I narrowed my eyes and invoked [Analyze]. The panel shimmered to life in front of me.

[Rock Strider] – Level 12

Type: Avian Beast

Skills: [Stone Hide], [Blitz Step]

A level twelve beast... and not just that, but an elite boss. Its presence alone radiated danger, every movement laced with a predator’s confidence. This wasn’t the kind of creature that fell easily.

I shifted my gaze toward Zarah. She was staring at the beast intently, her bow already resting lightly in her hand, though I caught the faintest flicker of nerves across her expression.

”Do you think you can handle it alone?” I asked, my tone even but weighted, testing her resolve as much as her readiness.

Her face hardened almost instantly, seriousness replacing hesitation. She gave a single firm nod. ”Yes.”

I studied her for a moment longer, doubt pressing at the edge of my thoughts.

No, I don’t think you can handle it,

I admitted inwardly, the words balanced on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them back. Saying it aloud would only wound her pride and undercut the determination she had just shown me.”Alright,” I said instead, my voice quieter but steady. ”But if you need me... I’ll jump in.”

”Chief...” she called softly.

I turned toward her.

Yes, dear.

”I won’t need help,” she said firmly, her tone sharp with confidence, but her gaze still flickered toward me as though testing whether I believed her.

”Okay, dear,” I replied without thinking.

Her brows shot up immediately.

”Dear?” she echoed, confusion painted clear across her face.

Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

The word had escaped on its own.

”Fine,” I muttered, brushing past it and ignoring her question. ”But I’ll be watching.”

Before she could press further, I warped away, reappearing atop a different tree with a vantage point that gave me a clear line of sight to both her and the beast. I crouched low, resting my weight on the branch, my eyes narrowing as I studied the distance between predator and prey.

Would I intervene if she found herself overwhelmed? Absolutely.

Whether or not she’d be angry with me afterward didn’t matter in the slightest.

There was no version of this where I stood by and watched her die in front of me.

Not a chance.

Zarah took a moment to steady herself before making the first move.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall as she drew in a long breath, exhaling slowly, calming her nerves with a rhythm she must have practiced countless times. Once her hands stopped trembling, she pulled three arrows from her quiver and nocked them together on the string, her stance firm as she drew back.

Her aim was fixed, unwavering, every ounce of her focus locked onto the beast below.

The Rock Strider was still hunched over its meal, talons tearing at the corpse, utterly oblivious to the wooden missiles about to rain down on it.

Then the bowstring sang. One of the arrows hissed through the air, cutting a clean line straight toward the avian’s skull.

But what happened next sent a cold jolt through me.

The beast moved.

Not clumsily, not by chance — but with a sudden, precise shift that carried it out of the arrow’s path as though it had been expecting the strike. The shaft slammed into the dirt, quivering upright where the bird’s head had been a moment before.

The Rock Strider’s head jerked upward, its beady eyes narrowing, and it let out a sharp, grating caw that echoed through the trees. Its gaze locked on the direction of the attack, feathers bristling, talons digging into the ground as it sized up its challenger.

Alright... that was no ordinary foe. At least not for her.

Zarah didn’t hesitate.

She loosed another in one fluid motion.

But once...