Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

Caius’ blade had reached me...

How?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because another slash came immediately.

With [Danger Sense] active, the warning struck before the blade even completed its arc, and this time I made no foolish attempt to tank it. I shifted my weight and leapt backward, forcing distance between us as the edge carved cleanly through the space I had just occupied.

I landed and slid slightly, boots scraping against the ground as I steadied myself.

Again… how?

The question pressed harder now, sharper, more insistent.

How had that attack reached me?

[Fractured Existence] had always handled direct hits, passively phasing or distorting them before they could connect. It wasn’t something I needed to consciously manage.

And yet...

He had cut me.

Was it something like my rift slash—some form of spatial interference layered into his attack, something that bypassed the surface entirely?

I kept my eyes on him as I recalibrated.

The space around Caius shifted again, the crimson patterns beneath his feet spreading slightly and deepening in color, reinforcing his position, while the white behind me stretched outward and thinned, losing density as though I was standing on something not fully defined.

The difference was subtle.

But it was there.

The battlefield was favoring him.

Of course it was—this was his domain.

But even that didn’t explain how he had bypassed [Fractured Existence].

”I see you’re rattled,” Caius said calmly, reading me without effort.

I didn’t deny it—I couldn’t. Watching Fractured Existence, the defense I had treated as absolute, get bypassed so cleanly didn’t just unsettle me; it put me on edge. Because if that could be touched, then I wasn’t as untouchable as I thought.

”I’m also surprised, you know,” he continued, his gaze fixed on me. ”That attack should’ve split you in two, no matter what defense you had used.”

I frowned at that, the implication settling in immediately. No matter the defense? Was it that kind of attack—an absolute hit-type? Something that didn’t care about layers of protection, but simply… connected?

”Unless…” Caius added, and for a brief moment, something like caution flickered in his eyes.

Then he stopped.

He shook his head slightly, as if discarding the thought before it could fully form, and said nothing more, choosing instead to simply watch me in silence.

Meanwhile, the wound across my chest began to close as [Cursed Regeneration] kicked in, black ink threading across the cut and sealing it gradually, the pain dulling as the torn flesh pulled itself back together.

At the same time, [Focus] did its job, clearing the noise in my head, smoothing out the tension, and suppressing the unease that had crept in.

I steadied my breathing.

I couldn’t afford to dwell on the fact that I was no longer untouchable.

That kind of thinking would get me killed.

All I needed to do was simple.

Avoid those slashes.

Figure out how to get my abilities working again.

And eliminate the threat in front of me.

Caius finally spoke.

”How about you join me, Eli,” he said, his tone measured, as though we were discussing terms rather than standing in the middle of a fight. ”You’re clearly powerful. It would be a waste to let a potential ally disappear because he was foolish.”

I let out a short breath.

”How about you make that offer when my boot is on your face,” I replied. ”Maybe then I’d consider it.”

”Fool,” Caius said, shaking his head slightly. ”Your pride will be your downfall.”

He moved, and the swing came without any visible buildup—no flare, no distortion—just a clean, direct motion driven by raw force and whatever subtle influence his domain exerted over the space around him, and that alone made it dangerous.

I didn’t try to contest it. Instead, I shifted my weight and evaded, letting the blade pass just ahead of me before pushing forward immediately, closing the distance before he could reset his stance.

This time, I let [Focus] fully sharpen my perception, stripping away hesitation, while [Battle Instinct] guided my movement, smoothing out each transition as I entered his range.

Caius didn’t retreat. He stood his ground, waiting.

I feinted left—my shoulder dipped, my weight shifted, and for a split second my body committed just enough to sell the motion—then I struck right.

But before the strike could fully form, his aura shifted again—subtle, but precise—and he intercepted.

He didn’t react after the fact; he met the motion as if he had already seen it coming, his blade redirecting mine with minimal force, angling it away just enough to break my line without overcommitting.

My stance slipped—only slightly, but enough.

And that was all he needed.

His blade came in immediately, cutting toward my arm with clean, deliberate intent.

But I wasn’t going to let that land. I pulled back sharply, yanking my arm in toward my body as I twisted my torso and rolled to the side, the blade passing just close enough for me to feel the air split along my skin. I recovered the instant my feet touched the ground, not allowing even a breath of pause before dashing at him again—only for him to meet me once more.

There was no hesitation in his response, no need for adjustment; he reacted with the same ease and confidence as before, as though my movements had already been laid out in front of him.

”You feel it, don’t you?” he said calmly, stepping into position as faint crimson streaks followed his movement, reinforcing the space around him.

I didn’t answer.

”As long as we’re both inside this domain,” he continued, ”I will always be superior.”

He moved as he spoke, his blade already in motion—not a single, clean strike this time, but something more complex. The swing split into multiple cuts mid-arc, layered and overlapping, as though the same attack had been repeated across slightly different angles all at once.

I reacted instantly, shifting my footing, ducking low, and twisting my body to avoid the majority of them.

But one slipped through, catching my shoulder.

”Agh!”

I sucked in a sharp breath as the impact landed, the force still carrying through despite my attempt to lessen it, and I hit the ground rolling immediately, using the motion to bleed off the momentum instead of letting myself stall even for a second, because there was no time to recover.

Another wave came.

I pushed off the ground at once and sprinted laterally, forcing distance and constant movement, refusing to get pinned into his rhythm before driving forward again.

This time, I increased the tempo, driving forward harder as I chained my attacks in rapid succession, compressing the intervals between each strike in an attempt to overwhelm him before the environment could fully respond.

CLANG!

CLANG!

CLANG!

And yet, every exchange looked the same.

His aura pulsed with each movement, shifting in tone and density—deep crimson when he defended, darker when he stepped in, sharper when he struck—and with every shift, the space around him responded in kind, reinforcing his angles while dulling mine.

I blocked cleanly, the timing precise and my positioning exactly where it needed to be, and yet another cut still opened along my side.

It wasn’t deep—but it was getting there.

At this rate, it wouldn’t take long before those shallow cuts turned into something worse; one misstep, one delayed reaction, and I’d start losing more than just blood.

My grip tightened around Gravefang.

Fractured Existence was active.

I could feel it.

The faint distortions around me—the slight misalignments in space that should have disrupted incoming attacks—were still there, functioning the way they always had.

But every time they interfered, the domain responded, not forcefully or violently, but with quiet precision, simply adjusting—bending the trajectory back and forcing the outcome to align with Caius’ intent.

I steadied my breathing, letting [Unyielding Will] anchor me, suppressing the rising frustration and sharpening my focus.

The white space had changed.

What had begun as a blank canvas was no longer empty.

Around Caius, the...