Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

I walked through the gate, and Gobbo climbed down from the watchtower to meet me.

There were actual stairs built into the side of the structure, and for a moment, I couldn’t help feeling a little amused. Goblins had made this. Goblins.

Gobbo stepped off the last step and approached.

”Chief,” he greeted with a small bow.

I nodded once, and he got straight to the point.

”One of the new goblins asked to meet you. He said you’d recognize him if I told you he’s... the builder.”

I raised a brow.

”The builder... Bundi?”

Gobbo touched his chin, thinking. ”Is that his name? He wouldn’t tell us. Said ’muscle head doesn’t deserve to know.’” He mimicked the tone perfectly, grumbling as if the insult had personally wounded him.

”If not for General Narg saying he’s important...” Gobbo muttered, raising his fist in pure resentment, ”I would have beaten the pride out of him.”

I shrugged, but my tone dropped into something firm. ”Lower that fist toward him, Gobbo. That goblin might be the future of this clan. You will not harm him.”

Gobbo’s eyes widened at how serious I sounded. He blinked once, twice, then slowly lowered his hand, the irritation still simmering in his expression even as he bowed his head in acknowledgment.

”Yes, Chief,” he said, though from the tightness in his jaw, I could tell he still wasn’t thrilled about letting Bundi walk around with an attitude.

Before I could say anything else, a heavy thud shook the ground behind us. I turned instantly and saw Dribb sprawled flat on his stomach, the boar he insisted on carrying now lying across his back and pinning him down like he’d been crushed by a fallen tree.

The two goblins who had followed him earlier rushed over in a panic, trying to lift the carcass off him while shouting his name and scrambling to get a proper grip. Dribb’s legs kicked weakly from underneath the dead weight, and he let out a strangled groan.

I shook my head at the sight—another muscle brain.

Of course, that was how this ended.

I turned back toward Gobbo, who looked far too entertained watching Dribb flail like an overturned turtle.

”Did he mention what he wanted to see me for?” I asked.

”No,” Gobbo said, still smirking a little, ”but I heard him telling General Narg it was something the Chief would definitely be interested in.”

That pulled my attention immediately.

”Do you have any idea where he is now?” I asked.

”General Narg should be with him,” Gobbo replied. ”They left together.”

I blinked. It had been slipping past my ears since the conversation began, but this time I actually paid attention and chose to question it.

”General Narg?” I repeated, the title catching me completely off guard. Hearing Narg’s name paired with a rank—one he definitely hadn’t had yesterday—made me pause for a moment.

Gobbo nodded, absolutely unbothered. ”Yes, Chief. Narg. General Narg. General Narg insists we refer to one another with titles, Chief,” Gobbo explained, straightening a little as he spoke. ”He says there’s a hierarchy now, and he wants it to be clear so the new goblins and any future recruits don’t get too relaxed.”

I nodded slowly. It actually made sense.

Without structure, without some kind of visible chain of authority, everything could collapse into the same chaos from which goblins were born.

If Narg wanted discipline, then I wasn’t going to argue with that. We needed it.

”Alright then,” I said, adjusting my stance.

”I’ll get going. Keep watch with the others for any danger.”

”Yes, Chief.” Gobbo bowed slightly, more formal than usual.

I turned to leave—then a familiar struggle caught my ear.

Behind us, the two goblins trying to help Dribb were still wrestling with the boar.

”One, two... lift!”

They pulled together, arms trembling, legs shaking, and for a second, they actually got the carcass off Dribb’s back. But the moment its weight shifted forward the wrong way, their grip slipped, and the boar came crashing right back down onto Dribb’s head.

He let out a muffled yelp, something between pain and a curse that never fully formed because of all the meat smothering his face.

Gobbo finally let out a long, suffering sigh and went to help the others, mumbling under his breath as he pried the boar off Dribb’s head. I left them to it and blinked away, my mind already shifting toward the seal I had placed on Narg. A grin tugged at my lips as I focused on his location.

In the next second, I warped directly beside him.

Narg spun toward me instantly, eyes wide at my sudden appearance, but the surprise on his face snapped straight into dread.

”Chief, watch out!”

The warning hit me at the same time the feeling did—sharp, cold, unmistakable danger crawling up my spine.

Instinct took over before thought could catch up. I activated [Mana Shield], and the barrier flared to life around me just in time for the impact.

A barrage of projectiles slammed into the shield from the side, the force so intense it shoved me half a step backward. More followed—dozens of them—hammering against the barrier in rapid, unrelenting bursts. The sound echoed like hailstones against glass, only heavier, sharper, deadlier.

”What the hell—?”

Arrows.

They were arrows.

And not a handful. An entire rainstorm of them.

I tightened the shield and glanced past its shimmering edge, eyes narrowing as more arrows thudded against it in a relentless rhythm.

Why were there so many?

And more importantly:

Were we under attack?

Those questions fired through my head with every heavy thunk that hit the shield. The barrage kept coming in rapid succession, rattling the air around us, until—finally—it stopped.

The sudden silence felt almost louder than the arrows.

I lowered my guard slightly and looked ahead to see who the hell had been trying to turn me into a pincushion.

And there he was.

Bundi.

The same goblin I’d been searching for.

He stood several meters away with three goblin workers at his side, all of them positioned behind something that looked like...