Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

As this one was definitely competing with Drugar’s Avatar for the bottom of my list.

Because seriously... what the hell?

[Goblin Tyrant] – Monarch of Clans

Chosen to unify, destined to rule. Your clan is your crown, your army your blade.

King’s Aura (Passive): Clan members fight stronger in your presence. Gaining a 30% boost in strength and morale.

Royal Decree (Active): Instantly enforce a battle command with absolute obedience.

Throne of Blood (Unique): Power scales when clan members sacrifice their lives in the name of their leader.

[King’s Aura], the first skill it granted, was straightforward enough. An aura that boosted the strength of my clan by thirty percent whenever I was near.

Useful. Very useful.

Thirty percent might sound like numbers on a screen, but in real combat it was everything. A goblin on the edge of breaking would suddenly fight like their life mattered. Blades that would’ve faltered would cut deeper. Feet that would’ve stumbled would stand firm. My presence alone would tilt battles, not just through strategy, but through raw morale.

That was terrifying power—because morale, once kindled, spreads like wildfire.

But I already had something similar. My title, Goblin Leader, granted a ten percent boost in strength and morale. Sure, thirty percent was leagues above ten, and there was even a chance the effects might stack if I chose this path—but even with that possibility, I wasn’t convinced.

And the reason was simple: the last two skills.

[Royal Decree] and [Throne of Blood].

Just reading them made my skin crawl.

With Royal Decree, I wouldn’t just be giving orders. I’d be forcing them—stripping my goblins of choice, bending them with absolute obedience whether they wanted it or not.

That didn’t sit right with me.

I could already imagine it—their eyes glazing over as my words sank hooks into their minds. It wasn’t leadership. It was puppeteering.

I’d fought too hard to carve out a place where my clan followed me because they chose to, not because they were shackled to my will.

If I used that skill—Royal Decree—to command them to throw themselves into something suicidal, they would do it. Even if they didn’t want to. Even if every instinct in their bodies screamed against it.

I hated that thought.

For all the jokes I made about being a goblin, I didn’t actually hate goblins—at least not the ones in my clan. They weren’t just faceless monsters. They were individuals. They had quirks, flaws, and strengths. They’d done things I admired. They’d made me laugh. Some had even earned my respect.

And if I was being honest with myself, I might even be falling for one of them.

To me, they weren’t pawns. They weren’t expendable. They were real people.

And I would never strip away their free will. Forcing them to obey, no matter what, felt... wrong. Cruel. Inhuman.

Which made the last skill—Throne of Blood—all the more revolting.

Sacrificing them for my own power? Turning their deaths into fuel for my strength?

No. I didn’t even want to consider it. The thought alone left a sour taste in my mouth. That path was closed. Permanently.

Yep. Screw this path.

But, a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered how useful it would be. How simple. How effective. A tide of power rising with every death, until nothing could stand before me. The thought tempted me, just for a heartbeat. But I crushed it.

That wasn’t who I wanted to become.

No way I was walking the road of a tyrant. Better to focus on the three that actually mattered.

[Dimensional Breaker], [Beastbound Sovereign] and [Void Strider].

I’d already admitted to myself that Dimensional Breaker and Beastbound Sovereign appealed to me more than Void Strider. They carried more impact, and—more importantly—they felt truer to who I was becoming.

So my choice was going to be between those two.

But which one?

Which one would carry me further?

I let my gaze linger on the panel, chewing on the possibilities.

With Dimensional Breaker, my weapon strikes would become unblockable. I could tear open rifts that swallowed enemies whole, bend space until their formations crumbled, and even gain a passive chance to simply... not be hit. A nonexistent shield, woven from broken reality itself. That was raw, destructive power.

I pictured it clearly. A swing of my weapon would leave no mark in the air, but the cut would be there all the same—armor and shields splitting apart as if they weren’t even real. With Collapse, the air itself would twist, pulling enemies toward a single point until they had nowhere to stand. And ranged attacks—arrows, spells, even spears—half of them would never touch me, slipping harmlessly into cracks in space. It wasn’t flashy, but it was absolute. A power that didn’t just beat enemies. It made their efforts meaningless.

And then there was Beastbound Sovereign.

A path that would let me command monsters, binding them into my service and swelling the firepower of my clan. Dire wolves at my side, the Alpha Deer under my banner, maybe even beasts I hadn’t yet imagined—all answering to me. With them, my people wouldn’t just be a clan. We’d be an army.

I could almost hear it—the thunder of paws, the screeches of winged beasts, the ground quaking under their weight as they fought not against us, but for us.

Imagine Zarah leading a hunting party with dire wolves flanking her.

Imagine Narg commanding beasts with his chants amplified by my bond.

The thought of my clan marching with monsters at their side. It felt Epic. It gave me chills.

I sighed, pressing a hand to my face as I thought it through again and again. Power on one side, unity on the other. Destruction versus command. One path that let me stand alone as a calamity. Another that made me stronger by those who stood beside me.

My heart hammered, and at last... I made my decision.

I reached forward, bracing myself for whatever came next.

And chose...