Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

”Is the fox truly your master?”

My head whipped around. Zarah stood near the front of the crowd, her expression hard, her words edged with suspicion.

”Master?” I echoed, frowning. ”What do you mean by that?”

It was the first time I’d heard anything like it.

Zarah’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped forward, eyes flicking between me and the fox. Slowly, she began to explain.

”I went to your quarters earlier,” she said, her tone heavy with disapproval. ”And there it was—this fox—curled up right beside you, as if it belonged there. When I questioned it, it spoke. Claimed it was your new master, and demanded we bring it food.”

Her gaze sharpened, accusation flashing in her eyes. ”When we refused... it tried to take it itself. Nearly devoured half of our stock.”

My eyes flicked to the fox.

She sat calmly, tails swaying slowly behind her, gaze locked on me as though daring me to do something about it. I didn’t like that one bit.

”Damned beast, it spilled some of my potions as well,” Flogga spat, her tone dripping with irritation. I’ve never seen her so mad.

Zarah pressed on, her expression darkening as her voice grew tighter.

”Narg and Zzzok tried to stop it... but...” Her words faltered, trailing into silence.

A knot of dread twisted in my gut.

The way she cut herself off—the look that flickered across her face—was enough to make my blood run cold.

I snapped my gaze toward the fox, heat surging in my chest like fire.

”Did you kill them?”

The ember fox met my glare without flinching, molten eyes glinting with an unsettling calm. Slowly, she tilted her head, and her voice brushed through my mind—flat, careless, dripping with arrogance.

What if I did?

The casualness of it made my vision blur red. Rage surged, drowning out the exhaustion in my limbs. My hand moved before thought could catch up, and I summoned my blade, fingers curling around Gravefang’s hilt.

But before I could take a step, Zarah’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent.

”She knocked them out!”

I froze, the blade trembling in my grip.

”They couldn’t even get close to her,” Zarah muttered, her voice tight with unease. ”They just... collapsed.”

Her words sank into me like stones, heavy and unrelenting.

I still had Gravefang clenched tight as I turned fully toward the fox. My mind churned in frantic loops. What did it want from me? Why had it followed me here? More importantly, how had it followed me?

I remembered it clearly. That desperate moment. I’d triggered [Leap] to escape the Matriarch, and I knew—knew—I hadn’t been touching her daughter when I vanished. I hadn’t been holding anything at all.

So how in the abyss was she standing here now?

My grip tightened until my knuckles ached, but I forced myself not to move recklessly. Not after what her mother had carved into me with fire and fear. Acting rashly could mean the end of all of us.

I lifted my gaze slowly, meeting the fox’s molten eyes. She sat there, tails swaying lazily, her expression smug in a way that felt almost bratty, as if she knew exactly how little I could do against her. The look alone was enough to make my blood boil.

But fear outweighed anger. I had to keep control.

”Why are you here?” I asked finally, my voice low, steadier than I felt.

The fox tilted her head, ears flicking, and her voice slid into my mind again.

What do you mean?

”What do you mean, what do I mean?” I snapped, patience thinning. This smug little creature was acting like I was the one not making sense. ”Explain yourself.”

Her tails flicked lazily, and her response came calm, maddeningly casual.

Well... I am now bonded with you. Which means wherever you go is where I will go.

I froze. The words hit like a stone to the chest.

Bonded.

For a heartbeat, I just stared at her, the weight of that word dragging through me, heavier than Gravefang in my grip.

”What... what is that supposed to mean?” I forced out, my throat tight.

Her molten gaze didn’t waver.

It means I’m with you until you die.

I went silent.

My mind spun in chaotic circles. That made no sense. Why would something like her—something tied to the Matriarch—be bound to me of all creatures? What had I done to deserve that kind of chain?

”Why?” I croaked, the word slipping free before I could stop it. ”Why would that kind of relationship even exist between you and me?”

The fox blinked once, then rolled her eyes in a startlingly human gesture. I don’t know? Her tone dripped with bratty indifference.

The dismissiveness snapped something in me. Heat flared in my chest, boiling over the fear and confusion.

”Cut the crap!” I roared, my voice echoing through the stone walls, sharp enough to make a few clansmen flinch. I tightened my grip on Gravefang, though I still didn’t raise it. ”Why did that happen?”

Because I wanted it to, the fox replied, her tone calm, almost disarmingly so.

I drew in a shaky breath and forced my voice steady.

”Why would you want that?”

Her tails shifted, brushing lazily across the floor as she tilted her head, studying me with unsettling curiosity.

Because you saved my life and... she paused, her molten eyes narrowing as though trying to peel something hidden from beneath my skin. There’s something oddly strange about you.

I stared back at her, silent, unsure whether to laugh or rage. That was her reasoning?

”You should make better choices,” I muttered under my breath, though the sarcasm did nothing to lift the weight pressing down on me.

I raised my gaze again, tightening my grip on Gravefang but keeping the blade low. ”So you bound yourself to me solely for that reason?”

The fox shook her head slowly, her expression softening—not bratty now, but matter-of-fact.

No. It’s not just that. Every ember fox must bind to another living being. It’s the only way we survive beyond our first two decades. Without a bond, we wither and die before reaching maturity. I only had a year left to choose... so I did.

”So your mother is bound to someone as well?” I asked before I could stop myself. Of all the questions I could have asked—the consequences, the risks, whether this bond was a curse or blessing—I went straight for the family gossip. Nice, Eli. Real smooth.

”Yes,” the fox replied simply, as if the answer was obvious.

”Who?” I pressed immediately, because apparently, I hadn’t learned restraint.

The ember fox frowned, her ears twitching as her gaze hardened. ”That is none of your business,” she said sharply. Then, after a pause, she added, ”But her partner is very powerful.”

Partner, not servant, I noted. Then asked:

”So why did you bind with me? With a mere goblin, instead of someone or something powerful?”

The fox’s expression didn’t shift. No smirk. No mockery. Just a steady, unwavering stare as her voice echoed in my mind.

Who says you...