Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

The troll’s earlier flurry, while still heavy, had started to lose its edge, the rhythm no longer as tight and the follow-through just a fraction slower than before—subtle, but in a fight like this, that kind of change was all it took. It was enough for Dribb to notice, and more importantly, enough for him to act.

The troll swung again, wide this time, its body dipping lower with the motion and exposing a gap that hadn’t been there before, and Dribb moved instantly, stepping in without hesitation, committing fully to what looked like an opening—but it wasn’t one.

It was a setup.

The moment he entered range, the troll’s other arm came around with sudden speed, far too quick for its size, and the strike connected cleanly with Dribb’s side, the impact landing solid and heavy, sending him tumbling across the ground before he could recover.

”Oh…” I let out, watching it unfold. ”That must hurt.”

But for Dribb, that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

His innate skill, [Pain Rush], made sure of that—the more punishment he took, the more his body responded, pushing past its normal limits in exchange for that pain, and in a drawn-out fight like this, that gave him an edge most wouldn’t expect.

He pushed himself up without delay, blood at the corner of his mouth and a faint smear along his cheek where the hit had landed, but he was smiling—not strained, not forced, but genuine, like the impact had only fueled him further.

He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, then leaned forward slightly, his stance shifting as something in his movement tightened, and the next second, he moved—fast, faster than before.

The troll tried to adjust, but the delay from earlier hadn’t fully cleared, its reaction coming just a fraction too late, and that was all Dribb needed as he closed the distance and drove a punch straight into its midsection.

The impact carried through the air, the force making the troll’s body jerk as its balance broke, sending it staggering back, its footing uneven as it struggled to stabilize.

The troll tried to react, but it was too slow, and the blow landed cleanly in its gut, the force driving deep enough to make its entire frame fold inward as it reeled back. It staggered, its footing breaking as it tumbled a few steps before finally coming to a halt, barely managing to stay upright.

I stared at it, my mouth slightly open.

That hit…

Dribb hadn’t held back.

The force behind it was enough that, for a split second, it looked like his fist might go straight through. It didn’t—but it came close enough to leave a visible impression. The troll’s abdomen was caved in where the strike had landed, the surface warped inward in a way that shouldn’t have been possible without breaking through.

I felt my brows pull together.

Why hit him that hard?

Was he trying to kill him?

The thought pushed me forward, my body already preparing to step in, ready to shut it down before things went too far—but just as I was about to move, the troll shifted.

It rose.

Slow at first, then steadier, its posture straightening as the damage began to reverse itself right in front of me, the dented area filling back out as the warped flesh corrected itself like it had never been struck, the regeneration working fast enough that within seconds there was no trace left behind.

I paused, watching it happen as the realization settled properly.

Trolls were weak to fire, sure—but that wasn’t what defined them. What really made them dangerous was this—their regeneration.

And not the slow kind either—this was immediate, efficient, almost unfair in how quickly it erased damage, which meant that unless you struck something vital or had a way to interfere with the recovery itself, putting one down wouldn’t be easy at all.

I let out a quiet breath and stepped forward anyway, closing the distance.

One of the goblins noticed me first, his posture stiffening as he quickly alerted the others. The shift was immediate—the noise died down, the reactions faded, and a tense silence settled over the group as their attention snapped toward me.

They looked like they’d been caught doing something wrong.

I closed the distance between them and stopped only when I stood squarely in the space that had just been a battleground, positioning myself between Dribb and the troll as both of them settled, the tension easing but not fully gone.

”Chief… Chief,” the goblins greeted in quick succession, lowering their heads.

I acknowledged them with a slight nod, then shifted my attention forward—toward the troll.

Upward, more like.

I had to tilt my head slightly to meet his gaze, and I couldn’t deny it… standing in front of him like this didn’t feel so good.

Back when I was human, I had been the taller one more often than not. I remembered how natural it felt looking down when speaking, how easy it was to make a joke out of it, sometimes at someone else’s expense.

Now…

Now I was the one looking up.

Yeah.

That felt like karma.

The troll didn’t respond.

He was the only one who hadn’t greeted me. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying me for a moment before taking a step back—not aggressive, not defensive, just… cautious. Like he wasn’t sure how close he wanted to be.

I understood that.

He wasn’t mine.

Not in the way the others were.

His loyalty, if he had any, leaned toward Zarah. That much was obvious from the way he carried himself around her before.

But that didn’t really matter to me.

What mattered was what he was, and what he could be.

I needed numbers.

And I needed strength to come with them.

”Do you resent me?” I asked.

The troll looked at me, his expression shifting slightly in confusion, but he didn’t answer.

”Do you hate me?” I rephrased, keeping my tone steady.

”Why should Boro hate?”

I paused.

So that was his name...Boro.

”Because I killed your parents,” I said, not dressing it up. ”Your mother and father.”