Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

The dead leopard right now on the ground would’ve been them.

That thought hit harder than I expected, knocking the breath from my lungs.

I covered my mouth with both hands, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, the lingering static in the air making it harder to breathe.

I couldn’t believe it.

I had brought her in this...walking wildfire and then left her unchecked inside my clan.

It hadn’t even occurred to me just how dangerous she truly was.

If she hadn’t left when she did... gods, things could’ve spiraled fast.

Zivra exhaled shakily, her breaths ragged and uneven as she stared down at the leopard’s corpse, still twitching faintly with leftover static.

Blood coated her arms in long streaks, the crimson splattered across her chest and face like war paint. Some of it wasn’t hers. Most of it, I suspected, belonged to the beast. She tried to wipe it away with trembling fingers, smearing it more than cleaning it, her movements sluggish, disoriented.

That attack—whatever it was—had drained her.

Even from this distance, I could see how she swayed slightly, like her body was seconds from collapsing. Every step she took was too careful, like she was walking on glass, trying not to shatter under her own weight.

It was clear that the skill had taken a toll.

Whatever Mindbreaker truly was, it didn’t come without cost.

She kept moving, her steps uneven but purposeful, and I followed at a distance, ducking low behind the underbrush, keeping my presence masked beneath the thickets and shadow. The leaves brushed against my arms as I moved in silence, every shift of weight measured, careful not to snap a twig or disturb the trail she likely didn’t even know she was leaving behind.

I still hadn’t decided if I was going to confront her.

Part of me wanted to. To step out and demand answers. To find out what the hell she had just done and how far she was willing to go. But another part—the smarter part—held me back. That beast she just killed hadn’t even had time to blink. One moment it was alive, crackling with elemental force, and the next, it was twitching in its own blood, eyes blown out and organs failing mid-air.

If she turned that power on me?

[Fractured Existence] wouldn’t save me. That skill was designed to avoid physical death, to cheat past wounds and mortal blows, not whatever invisible force she had unleashed. Whatever that was... it wasn’t physical.

I tightened my grip on Gravefang, slowly unsheathing it with a soft whisper of metal against leather. Just holding it gave me some clarity. A reminder that Zivra wasn’t untouchable. If I truly wanted to kill her, if I decided she was too dangerous to leave alive, I could make it happen.

One strike. A clean kill.

She’d never see it coming.

But then the real question rose, loud in my chest.

Do I have a reason to?

Because right now, she wasn’t walking toward the clan. She was walking away from it. Her pace was slow, her shoulders hunched forward, and there was no malice in her steps. No hidden blade. No sudden turn. Just exhaustion. Just distance.

So no, she wasn’t an immediate threat.

But was I supposed to wait until she became one?

I had seen it in her eyes. She wanted revenge for the father I killed.

And if she somehow survived everything the world still had left to throw at her, she’d return. Not as a wandering outcast or a girl in mourning, but as a blade aimed straight at my back.

Sure, at this moment, she wasn’t a problem. She was leaving, not fighting.

But what happens when time passes? When the wound scabs over and vengeance becomes her only reason to keep moving forward?

That’s what worried me.

I could stop all that right now.

I could take the shot.

Cut the tree at its root before it ever has a chance to grow thorns.

No one would blame me. Not in this world.

And yet, I just stood there. Watching her walk. Fingers resting on Gravefang’s hilt, but unmoving.

Why?

Why was I hesitating?

It wasn’t guilt. I’ve killed quite a lot of goblins, and not just the mindless, feral kind either—some of them used to be human like myself, and I didn’t flinch when I did it then. Didn’t hesitate.

I’m no saint, and I wasn’t going to pretend to be one.

But this... this wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t like the Ember Fox either. Back then, sparing it had been a tactical decision. Logical. The system had warned me, clearly and without room for doubt, that killing the beast would hurt me in ways I didn’t yet understand.

This wasn’t that.

There was no system warning this time.

No omen. No unseen consequence.

With Zivra, I could just end her now.

One clean strike. One stab to sever the thread before it tangled into something far worse. I had the means, the skill, the opportunity. She wouldn’t even see it coming.

But... I couldn’t do it.

The thought echoed louder than I expected, almost like it didn’t come from me.

My grip on Gravefang slackened slightly, the blade that once felt like an extension of my will now weighed down my hand like lead. And my feet—rooted. Not by fear, not by guilt. Just... stuck.

As if my body was refusing to act on what my mind knew was the right move.

I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

That’s when I heard it.

A soft shuffle. Barely audible. But sharp enough to cut through my spiral of thoughts.

My head snapped up. Zivra had stopped moving.

Completely still, mid-step, as though she’d walked into an invisible wall.

Instinct kicked in. I lowered my body behind a thick stretch of underbrush, eyes narrowing as I scanned the space ahead, trying to figure out what had triggered her sudden pause.

Had she sensed me?

Did she somehow know I was tailing her?

No—her posture didn’t shift in my direction. She wasn’t turning, wasn’t reacting to me. Her attention was angled slightly ahead, toward the edge of a dense grove.

And then I felt it too.

A ripple in the air.

The hairs on my arms stood up a split second before a figure emerged from the trees.

A silhouette, graceful, fluid, and familiar.

It slinked out from the brush like mist given form.

A beast, and not just any beast.

Another lightning leopard.

This one, however, was different.

Its fur was...