Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

Narg back straightened slightly, anticipation settling around him like a cloak.

He was ready.

And so was I.

I opened my stats and pulled up [Skill Share], my finger hovering over the list of abilities for a moment before selecting the one I intended to give him… and then selecting Narg as the recipient.

The system chimed immediately.

Ding!

[Would you like to share the skill: Deathroot with Narg?]

My heart skipped once — not out of fear, but out of the weight of what that choice meant.

Yes, I do, I thought.

But not here.

Not inside my room.

Dribb’s transformation alone had nearly turned the place into a furnace. If his flames had been a little hotter, I’d be sleeping under a tree tonight. And that was fire — predictable, in its own destructive way.

Deathroot was different.

Life-drain. Corruption. Ink that could eat through armor, rot flesh, and tear at the essence of a living being.

If that power flared out uncontrollably inside this room…

Yeah, I wasn’t going to test the durability of my walls against corruption ink.

I closed the confirmation window for the moment and let out a slow breath.

The ability to drain life with a touch…

Now that I was thinking about it clearly, the sheer absurdity of that power settled in. It wasn’t flashy like flames or obvious like ice. It was subtle, invasive, and terrifying in a way that didn’t need noise or bright colors.

A single smear on the skin could cripple an enemy.

A single touch could rot their shoulder.

A concentrated strike could end them entirely.

Giving something like that to Narg wasn’t just an upgrade.

It was rewriting what kind of existence he would become.

I looked down at him again, the air around him still thick with that ominous Graveborn presence.

And then I placed a hand on Narg’s shoulder, tightened my grip, and warped us both far from the clan grounds.

The world bent for a brief second, and when it straightened again, we were standing deep in the forest. Tall trees loomed around us, the air quieter, heavier, untouched by the usual noise of goblins moving about.

Narg was still on his knees from before. He glanced around, confusion flickering across his face.

”Where are we, Chief?”

”Far away from the clan,” I said, brushing leaves off my sleeve. ”In case you go berserk and try to devour the world.”

It came out as a joke.

But the moment the words left my mouth… I felt the weight behind them.

Because wasn’t that exactly what happened with the previous wielder?

Jael — the original owner of Deathroot — had been swallowed by his own power. His body twisted, his mind corrupted, until the skill didn’t just empower him… it consumed him. He lost control and turned into something that barely resembled a goblin anymore.

If a Chosen-tier goblin could lose himself to this ability…

What would stop someone using borrowed power from spiraling even faster?

I looked down at Narg, still kneeling in the moss and dirt, his posture calm, unaware of the storm of concern sitting at the back of my mind.

There was a real possibility things could go south — quickly and violently.

That could easily draw the Overseer’s attention, and once the Overseer started looking in my direction, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize what I was — an anomaly. And anomalies weren’t given warnings or second chances. Lord Drugar’s agents didn’t negotiate. They executed.

Yeah. I had to be very, very careful.

Just thinking through the chain reaction made hesitation settle in my chest.

One wrong move.

One unstable transformation.

One flare of corrupted energy too loud for the forest to swallow…

It could all spiral into a situation I wasn’t ready for.

But before I could follow that line of thought any further, Narg spoke — calmly, as though we were discussing weather patterns instead of his potential death.

”If that happens,” he said, ”then just go ahead and kill me before I cause any harm.”

My mind blanked for a full second.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t look away.

He meant every syllable.

And that stopped me cold.

What the hell?

It wasn’t fearlessness or bravado; it was pure, unsettling sincerity, the kind that didn’t waver or hesitate for even a breath.

”I’m not killing you,” I said immediately, and Narg replied with calm certainty, as if that settled everything.

”Then I’ll make sure to tame the ability and not lose control.”

Strangely… it helped.

His confidence bled into me, steady and grounded. It reminded me of why I trusted him in the first place.

Right.

There was no need to spiral into worst-case scenarios before anything even happened.

If he did lose control, I knew what I had to do.

And yes — killing him would be the last resort, but death wasn’t the irreversible end it used to be. The graveyard existed. The dead could return. It wouldn’t be the same as losing him forever.

That alone eased some of the pressure weighing on my chest.

As for attracting the Overseer? That wasn’t an immediate threat either.

Jael didn’t draw the Overseer’s attention by simply using Deathroot — he drew him by becoming a world-threatening force, a monster that warped the balance.

Narg wasn’t anywhere close to that level yet.

Only if he crossed that line — only if he became something the world couldn’t tolerate — would the Overseer appear.

And unlike before… I wasn’t powerless.

I had three divine skills now. Overseer-grade skills.

I could handle any backlash myself if things went sideways. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

”Pwhoo…”

I exhaled slowly, forced the tension out of my shoulders, and opened the system prompt again.

Ding!

[Would you like to share the skill: Deathroot with Narg?]

I looked at him one last time — a silent warning, a quiet brace yourself that didn’t need words.

Then I answered.

”Yes.”

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Total stillness.

Then everything broke at once.

Narg sucked in a sharp breath, his entire face tightening as if something inside him had just latched onto his heart. His hand shot to his chest, fingers digging into his skin, and he let out a low, strangled grunt as the pressure built.

He tried to contain it — I could see the effort in the way his jaw clenched, the way his shoulders shook — but the force was too much.

A raw, pained roar tore out of him as his knees slammed into the forest floor.

The ground trembled.

The air thickened.

And then an ominous aura burst outward, rolling through the trees like a wave.