Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

”I, Bundi, am willing to serve chief,” he declared, his voice shaking but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Silence followed for a heartbeat, and then another voice spoke. ”Me too.”

The effect was immediate. One by one, the remaining goblins began stepping forward, the hesitation in their eyes slowly replaced by resignation—and a faint, desperate hope.

They came forward like falling dominoes, each one bowing low, pledging themselves to the very goblin who had destroyed their clan.

Zivra shook her head, disbelief clouding her face as she watched the scene unfold. She crawled forward on her knees, her voice cracking with panic. ”Wait... don’t you see? He’ll kill us all!”

But they didn’t listen.

Goblins, by nature, were creatures who bowed only to strength. Words, reason, and sentiment held no sway over them—not when survival was at stake. The second option Eli had given them, the chance to leave, meant nothing in comparison to the security power offered.

To them, being under a strong leader, even one who had slain their former chief, was far better than wandering alone through a world that devoured the weak. They knew what awaited them out there—hunger, beasts, other clans, and the endless cycle of slaughter that came for any goblin without protection.

And Eli... Eli had proven himself beyond doubt. He had stood against their chief, the strongest among them, and brought him down single-handedly. In their eyes, that act alone made him more than worthy of their loyalty.

So their instincts—the primal urge ingrained in every goblin to follow strength—took over, pushing them toward acceptance. One after another, they bowed their heads, surrendering to the undeniable reality before them.

Eli was a leader worth serving. He had proven it through action, not words, and in a world where strength dictated survival, that was all that mattered.

Zivra, however, was the exception.

Every part of her being screamed that joining him was the logical choice—that following a strong leader would keep her alive—but something deeper inside refused. Maybe it was defiance born from grief, or perhaps it was the faint trace of her father’s blood, who had never been a true goblin to begin with. Whatever it was, it burned quietly within her, rejecting the idea of kneeling to the one who had destroyed everything she loved.

So she remained where she was, standing apart while the others lowered their heads before Eli. Her hands trembled at her sides, her lips parted in disbelief as she watched her kin abandon their pride so easily.

Nira and Talia stood behind her, silent observers. They weren’t with her—not anymore. Both had already accepted their place, choosing the safety of submission.

Talia had made up her mind the moment Eli appeared in the tent. There was something different about him—something that made him seem more human than Jael ever had.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the fact that he was still new to this world and hadn’t yet been hardened by it. Whatever the reason, she found herself preferring him. Serving under Eli felt less like submission and more like survival with purpose.

And besides, Jael was gone. His death had erased the only life she had known in this world of goblins, leaving her with one clear truth—Eli was now her only option.

He had shown no intention of killing her for her innate skill. If anything, he seemed to value it. That alone was enough for her to choose pragmatism over pride. If he wanted loyalty, she would give it. If he wanted results, she would deliver. All she had to do was make herself useful, and she’d have a place in his new order.

That left only one other goblin standing with Zivra.

Ponta.

He had once charged at Eli in blind fury, desperate to protect Zivra when she’d been pinned in his chokehold. But that same bravery was nowhere to be found now. His trembling hands, his darting eyes—they spoke of someone caught between instinct and loyalty. And in the end, instinct won.

The fear of death, the hunger to live, outweighed whatever bond he had with Zivra. His steps were hesitant at first, but then steadied as he began walking toward Eli, each pace carrying him farther from the girl he’d once protected.

Zivra watched in silence, her expression breaking just a little more with every step he took.

”Ponta!” Her voice cracked as she called his name.

He stopped midstep, his shoulders stiffening at the sound. For a brief moment, it looked as though he might turn back. But he didn’t.

Without saying a word, Ponta took another step forward, then another, until he reached the front of the group. He dropped to his knees before Eli, head bowed low, his entire body trembling as he pressed his palms to the ground.

Zivra bit down on her lip, the pain barely registering. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, and she looked down, refusing to let anyone see the hurt twisting across her face. Everyone she cared about—everyone who once stood beside her—was now kneeling to the one who had destroyed them.

Eli watched them quietly, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with restrained satisfaction. The sight of the goblins bowing willingly before him stirred something deep within—confirmation that his words had taken root. His offer had not been for nothing.

This was exactly what he needed. They had chosen to serve him without force, without compelling them into obedience with the threat of death.

Now that they had chosen to kneel on their own, Eli knew their obedience would come easier. They would follow his commands without constant resistance, their loyalty slowly solidifying over time. Once he began fulfilling his promises—rewarding them with strength and skills—their faith in him would only deepen. Fear might have pushed them to kneel, but reward would make them stay.

It was a shame he couldn’t apply the same simplicity to the Chosen. Winning over humans—or those who still thought like them—was far more complicated.

They didn’t submit easily. They questioned, calculated, and doubted.

Loyalty from them couldn’t be commanded; it had to be earned, and that took more time and patience than he cared to give, especially with the King Games coming up so soon.

And then there was Zivra, the one...