Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

”I demand the hearts of one thousand goblins as sacrifice,” Drugar said finally, his voice echoing through the chamber like a slow drumbeat. ”Do this, and I will consider granting your request.”

I froze.

Did he just say one thousand?

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard. But no—the words replayed in my head clearly, each syllable heavy with intent. One thousand hearts.

That was insane. Not just ridiculous, unthinkable.

Yep. That was definitely a ridiculous demand, one I wasn’t even going to pretend to consider.

Even if I killed every single goblin under my command right now, it still wouldn’t meet a one tenth of the quota.

One thousand hearts? That wasn’t just high, it was practically a declaration of war on my own kind.

I’d have to start raiding other clans, cutting down goblins just to rip out their hearts and pile them up like offerings at some cursed altar.

And for what, exactly?

To complete the graveyard ritual? To finish a consecration meant for my clan, when none of them would even be alive to use it afterward?

The logic fell apart before it even started. This whole thing, this summoning, the reason I even invoked Drugar’s name—it was never about power for myself.

It was about securing something for us, for my clan.

But if I followed through with this demand, there’d be no one left to protect.

And the timing couldn’t be worse.

The King’s Game was on the horizon, and if there was ever a moment I needed numbers, strength, and unity, it was now.

I couldn’t afford to start thinning my own ranks, let alone spark bloodshed between goblin clans.

This demand wasn’t just steep, it was impossible.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself upright, the pressure around me finally bearable enough to speak.

”Sir... Lord Drugar,” I said carefully, keeping my tone respectful despite the heat rising in my chest.

”I’m afraid that request is impossible to grant. I intend to participate in the King’s Game soon, and I need as many goblins as I can gather just to meet the base requirement. Perhaps...” I paused, measuring my words. ”...you would consider the hearts of some other creatures instead? A hundred maybe.”

The words hung in the air. I braced myself.

”You dare negotiate?!”

Drugar’s voice roared like a collapsing mountain, shaking the very air in my lungs.

And before I could even brace myself, black wisps erupted from the mist and clamped tightly around my throat.

I was yanked off the ground like a ragdoll, boots kicking in the air as the tendrils coiled with crushing force.

I clawed at the darkness around my neck, fingers digging in, pulling, scratching—nothing worked. It was like trying to tear apart steel with bare hands.

”You think excuses

will save your life, goblin?” he snarled, his voice close now, impossibly loud, each word laced with venom. ”You will give me what I want, or I’ll erase you and that pitiful excuse for a clan right now.”I didn’t doubt for a second that he could follow through on that threat.

Every second hanging there, struggling to breathe, only confirmed it. The pressure, the fury in his voice—he wasn’t bluffing.

And the more I thought about it, the more it started to piss me off.

Because what even was this? That wasn’t a request, it was a death sentence dressed as a test.

One thousand goblin hearts? How was that anything but sabotage?

I grit my teeth as the edges of my vision began to blur.

Rage bubbled in my chest, mixing with the desperation.

”My... my clan,” I rasped out, barely audible through the crushing grip, ”has the potential... to become something great...something that could become an asset to you, and you...” I choked, forcing the words out through sheer will, ”you’re just going to wipe us out like this?!”

Drugar’s avatar went still. The writhing wisps that bound my throat loosened slightly, just enough for me to suck in a ragged breath.

Then the shadow leaned closer, its form shifting as though it were peering into me—studying me like some strange specimen that shouldn’t exist.

I could feel its gaze, cold and invasive, crawling beneath my skin.

”You...” he said slowly, his tone laced with curiosity. ”I can sense my blessing within you... and yet, there’s something else...something I can’t quite...”

He stopped mid‑sentence, and the air crackled.

Then, like a storm breaking, his voice exploded into fury.

”What is this branding?!” he roared, the sound shaking the very ground beneath us.

The pressure slammed back into me full force, stronger than before.

His anger rippled through the chamber like a quake.

My feet kicked helplessly in the air as the wisps constricted again, crushing my throat. Pain lanced through my neck, and my vision began to blur at the edges.

”What are you, creature?” he roared, his voice raw with a mix of anger and confusion. ”An implant? Some vessel? What deity dared plant this mark upon you?! Who is the meddling bastard?!”

”I... have... no idea... wha... you’re—”

The words barely made it out.

My vision dimmed at the edges, my lungs burning as darkness crept in.

The grip around my throat wasn’t just cutting off air—it was pulling me under.

I was slipping. Fast.

”To think they’d dare plant an anomaly in my territory,” Drugar growled, voice simmering with fury. ”Arrogant fools. It’s a good thing I noticed when I did... I’ll deal with it now.”

More black wisps erupted from the mist, sharp and jagged, slithering like snakes with one purpose...to consume.

They surged toward me, hungry and cold.

But just as they reached me, a violent flash erupted from my chest, exploding outward in a blinding burst of light.

The tendrils screamed as they disintegrated mid-air, the force of the blast throwing Drugar’s avatar backward, his form flickering and warping under the light.

I dropped like a stone, hitting the ground with a hard thud, coughing violently as I...