Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

A fight between the two of them wasn’t a question of if, only when. And truthfully, I had no intention of stopping it unless things spiraled into something extreme. Conflict like this, when managed, had a way of forging strength rather than destroying it. After all, steel needed friction to be honed.

If anything, I was… eager.

A little rivalry wouldn’t hurt. Best case, it would push them both to grow faster, sharper, and more aware of their limits and how to break past them.

Worst case, it could fester into resentment or outright hatred.

But I didn’t think that was what this was.

Or was it?

I hope not.

Gobbo shook his head to the side, clearly finding the back-and-forth exhausting, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and resignation.

Ariel stood nearby as well, unusually quiet. The fox hadn’t said a single word since returning, which struck me as odd, considering she was normally one of the more talkative ones.

Since we were bonded, I could sense her emotions to some degree, not clearly enough to read her thoughts, but enough to catch the undertones that slipped through the link. One feeling stood out more than the rest.

Anxiety.

It wasn’t faint either. It pulsed quietly beneath the surface, steady and persistent, like something she was actively trying to suppress.

Why?

What about this situation was making her anxious?

I ran through the possibilities in my head, but none of them fit cleanly. The threat was gone. The clan was safe. The confrontation had de-escalated. And yet, the tension in her emotional presence hadn’t eased.

She noticed my gaze then.

Her eyes flicked toward me for a split second before she let out a small harrumph and turned away, deliberately putting her back to me. The gesture told me everything I needed to know.

I wasn’t getting an answer anytime soon.

So I shifted my attention elsewhere.

Gork stood a short distance away, leaning toward Nira and Zivra, his voice lowered as he whispered something to them. He didn’t look relaxed either.

There was even a hint of fear in the way his eyes kept drifting back to Dribb and Zarah, as if the argument had struck something deeper than simple irritation.

When he realized I was watching him, he stiffened and quickly lowered his head, posture snapping into something more formal.

That reaction alone was enough to make me pause.

”Are you good?” I asked him, my voice calm.

”I’m fine, Chief,” he replied, stepping closer as he spoke, his head lowered in a way that was respectful but also… guarded.

I could tell.

Whatever he said, he wasn’t fine.

Watching my goblins unleash that kind of power against the Varukans must have rattled him. Not in the loud, panicked way fear sometimes showed itself, but in the quiet, unsettling realization that the gap between what he thought he understood and what was actually possible was far wider than he’d assumed.

And that was a good thing. Earlier, he hadn’t truly understood what I was capable of. Now, at least, he had an inkling, so I asked:

”Do you still underestimate my capabilities, Gork?”

”No.” He shook his head a little too quickly, the motion almost frantic. ”I wouldn’t dare. Especially not after what I just witnessed.”

Really…I turned towards Zarah, Dribb, and Gobbo.

Was their display of power that impactful?

Part of me wished I’d been there in the thick of it, wished I could’ve seen what he saw through his own eyes instead of piecing it together afterward through reactions and secondhand tension.

I nodded once.

”Good,” I said, letting the word settle. ”Then you have no problem taking me to the rival clan to acquire the garnet, do you?”

Gork looked up at me at the mention of it, his eyes widening just a fraction, before he caught himself and bowed immediately, spine straightening as resolve replaced hesitation.

”No, I don’t, Chief.”

His response carried more confidence than when I had first posed the same question to him, and the difference was noticeable.

Whatever doubts he’d been harboring before had been shaken loose by what he’d just witnessed. Seeing what I could do, and more importantly, seeing what I had done with my goblins, had clearly forced him to reassess more than a few assumptions.

It was enough to open his eyes.

Satisfied, I let the matter rest and turned my attention back to the others gathered in the room. Dribb and Zarah, who had still been locked in a silent staring contest, straightened almost immediately, the tension between them pulled back behind disciplined expressions as they faced forward.

”Good job, all of you,” I said, my voice steady as I looked over them. ”You did well today.”

”Thank you, Chief,” they replied in unison, the response coming easily, pride threading through their voices.

I nodded once before continuing.

”Get some rest. This isn’t over. There’s more coming tomorrow, and over the next few days as well. You’ll have more chances to fight, more enemies to face, and more opportunities to gain power and grow stronger as a clan.” I paused briefly, letting the weight of that sink in. ”When that time comes, I expect every one of you to be ready.”

They held my gaze, resolve hardening in their expressions.

”Without a doubt,” Narg replied, his voice firm as he dropped to one knee without hesitation.

Zarah followed immediately, lowering herself with the same controlled precision she brought to everything else, her head bowed in acknowledgement.

”I’ll be ready, Chief,” Dribb said next, going down onto one knee as well, the earlier tension stripped away and replaced with resolve. One by one, the rest of them followed, the sound of armor and movement soft but deliberate as they knelt.

”I’ll be ready.”

”I’ll be ready.”

”We’ll be ready.”

”Good,” I said at last. ”You’re dismissed.”

They rose and filed out, purpose in their steps as they left the room quieter than it had been but charged with something new.