Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

”Wait, Chief! I also have something for you!”

Something for me?

My attention snapped toward her immediately, a ripple of excitement running through me. The idea that she might have prepared something on the same level as Zarah’s armor—or even something comparable to the one Jael used—made my pulse quicken.

Zarah stepped to the side, retrieving something from a wooden rack, and placed it carefully on the table in front of me.

”The armor isn’t complete,” Talia said quickly, almost apologetically. ”It still needs a core before it can be fully finished.”

The disappointment hit me for a second—like a quick jab to the ribs—but it didn’t last.

Not when I finally saw what she had made.

”Whoa...” I breathed out as I lifted the armor into my arms, almost entranced by the craftsmanship.

The base was constructed from layered hide that had been treated and hardened to a deep, dark sheen—smooth under my fingers, yet firm as stone. But what drew me in were the details. Thin bark-metal plates overlapped along the torso like a set of natural scales, each plate etched with faint channels where mana would flow once the armor was completed.

Soft silver thread stitched through the seams in long, deliberate lines, catching the light in brief glimmers, like veins of moonlight embedded within the material.

The shoulders were reinforced with curved plates—nothing bulky, nothing exaggerated, just enough coverage to protect without slowing me down. Every contour looked deliberately shaped for movement, like the armor expected its wearer to fight fast and aggressively. The interior was lined with deep black fabric, softer than anything I had worn so far, almost velvety to the touch.

It looked elegant.

It looked dangerous.

It looked... regal.

Like something a king of the wild would wear.

Then I noticed the three empty slots embedded in the chest area, arranged in a clean triangular pattern. Even without Talia explaining anything, instinct told me exactly what they were for.

Those were where the cores would go.

”So I’d need to get this magic crystal to complete it,” I said, tracing a finger near one of the hollow slots.

”Yes,” Talia replied with growing excitement, her eyes lighting up as she spoke. ”Crystals from high-level beasts would be best. The armor is strong enough to handle that level of power.”

She leaned forward, almost vibrating with pride.

”In fact, you can put on the armor now if you want to and use it. Even without the special effects, it’s strong enough to tank powerful hits,” Talia said, sounding almost eager for me to try it.

But I wasn’t tempted.

Tanking hits?

No. That had never been my priority.

Not when I had [Fractured Reality], the perfect defense, the kind of protection no armor—unfinished or not—could compete with.

What I wanted from this armor wasn’t durability.

I wanted the effects.

The stat boosts.

The enhancements that would actually matter in a fight where fractions of a second meant everything.

And those wouldn’t come until I brought her the magic crystals.

”Alright then,” I said, letting the armor rest back on the table. ”I’ll go speak to Gork and get details about these magic crystals you mentioned.”

”Yes, Chief,” Talia replied.

”Keep making high-quality armor like this,” I told her, turning toward the exit. ”And don’t worry about the crystals. I’ll bring them. It will come.”

I said it firmly—not as a hope, but as a certainty—and Talia nodded, confidence settling into her features.

I stepped out of the tent with Zivra, who was still wearing her new armor, the silver-threaded plates catching the sunlight as she walked beside me.

I left the tent with Zarah beside me, still in her new armor and subtly admiring it as we walked.

She really liked it.

She tried to act indifferent in front of Talia, but the tiny glances she kept sneaking at the silver-threaded plates told the actual story. She was pleased—more than she wanted to admit.

As we walked through the camp, I spotted someone approaching from the opposite path.

And I stopped for a moment, slightly stunned.

She was awake.

”Chief,” Zivra greeted, bowing lightly before lifting her gaze toward Zarah.

Zarah’s eyes narrowed.

Zivra’s widened slightly.

Both of them stared at each other with the same expression—like they were each trying to figure out what, exactly, they were looking at.

They looked similar in height.

Both confident.

Both armed.

Both with sharp features and sharper tempers.

It was only natural for confusion to spark first.

Zarah leaned a little closer to me, lowering her voice.

”Who is she?”

”She’s Zivra,” I whispered back. ”Daughter of the previous chief.”

Zarah blinked, her expression shifting from suspicion to mild surprise.

Zivra, meanwhile, continued studying Zarah with clear interest, as if trying to place her in the hierarchy she assumed existed around me.

And just like that, the air between them thickened—curious, tense, charged—but not hostile. Yet.

”The one that escaped?” Zarah asked, her voice low and flat.

I nodded.

She looked back at Zivra again, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head.

So this was the goblin she had been warned to stay away from during the hunt with Gobbo and Zonk.

The one described as dangerous and unpredictable.

Yet in front of her now stood someone who didn’t look dangerous at all—someone who, compared to Zarah in her new armor, looked almost... fragile.

Before that line of thought could go anywhere stupid, I said firmly:

”Zarah is my mate. You’ll treat her with as much respect as you treat me.”

Zivra straightened immediately.

”Yes, Chief... greetings, Zarah.”

Zarah lifted her chin slightly.

”Greetings.”

They exchanged a look—measured, sizing each other up, neither backing down.

If goblins had an instinctive sense for hierarchy, this was it on full display: two strong personalities quietly testing the boundaries.

I broke the tension before it stretched too far.

”Where are you headed?” I asked Zivra.

Despite the oath Zivra swore not to use her abilities against anyone in the clan, I still...