Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

I twisted mid-air, catching myself in a controlled skid, boots digging trenches into the dirt until I came to a halt.

The healing potion was still clenched tight in my hand, unshattered.

My body unscathed thanks to [Fractured Existence].

I dare not receive the blow end on.

I straightened, my gaze snapping back to where I’d been standing.

My eyes narrowed as recognition hit.

The attacker—the one I thought I had already finished.

His throat, which I had opened wide moments ago, was whole again. The gash had sealed as if it had never been there. And his limbs—the ones I had hacked apart—were back, but not flesh and bone. They were replacements, grotesque prosthetics forged entirely from blood, hardened and glowing faintly with a sickening crimson light. Power pulsed through them like veins carved from liquid fire.

Amon snarled, a guttural roar that rattled the air, and then he surged toward me with the momentum of a charging beast. His aura flared violently, blood gathering along his arm until it stretched outward into a weapon.

He thrust it forward, and the crimson mass splintered into a dozen jagged spikes that launched toward me with lethal speed.

I warped aside, my body flickering just as the spikes tore through where I had stood.

They struck the ground behind me, embedding deep into stone and dirt with sharp, cracking sounds.

The next instant, a shadow fell over me.

Amon came down from above, his entire hand warped into a massive blade of blood. The air screamed around the strike as he drove it downward, intent on cleaving me in half.

I sidestepped at the last possible moment, his strike gouging a crater into the ground where I’d been. Dust and shards of rock burst outward in a wave, buffeting against my skin.

Stretching my hand out, I gathered mana, my core flaring.

Two spheres of fire sparked to life, each one burning hotter than the last.

I didn’t hesitate—I hurled them both.

BOOM!

BOOM!

The explosions rocked the clearing, twin fireballs detonating against his form, straight into his face, the shockwave rolling outward in searing waves of heat and force..

For a heartbeat, I thought they had done something—the flames seared across his features, burning away skin and flesh.

But before the embers even died, the wounds closed, knitting back together as if time itself had reversed.

Amon’s snarl deepened, more beast than man, his fury burning hotter than the fire I’d just hurled. He lunged through the smoke, and more spikes erupted from his arms.

This time, they weren’t even all aimed at me.

Some veered wide, flying past my position, scattering across the battlefield with lethal randomness.

My stomach twisted. I could take his attacks head-on, but the others—wounded, scattered, struggling to breathe—they wouldn’t stand a chance if even one of those spikes skewered them.

I had to move them.

I triggered [Paradox Step]. Space folded, warped, and then collapsed again as I chained [Warp] over and over. The battlefield blurred around me, and in my wake after-images bled into existence—illusions that carried half my strength, half my presence.

According to the skill’s description, they would only last three seconds.

But three seconds was more than enough.

The fiend of a goblin suddenly found himself surrounded.

My duplicates flickered in and out of his vision, circling him, darting in with feints and strikes, blades slashing at angles that forced him to spin wildly in frustration. His attention snapped from one to the next, unable to tell which was me.

That was all I needed.

While his focus scattered, I appeared in front of Zarah and, without a word, I seized her by the arm and pulled her straight into the safety of the cave.

The instant she was clear, I returned to the battlefield, repeating the process for the three goblins still lingering in the kill zone. One after another, I dragged them back into cover.

I warped again, this time for the wounded. Gobbo, his armor cracked and stained with blood; Dribb, barely conscious but still clutching his ruined shield; Thok, light on his feet but bleeding from too many cuts; Zonk, staggering though he tried to stand tall; even the troll, who had taken a beating so severe he should have been dead, but whose body was already knitting itself back together with that cursed resilience.

I dragged them all out, one by one, until the battlefield was nearly empty.

When I finally returned, my clones had vanished. Their time was up.

But the damage they had inflicted in those fleeting seconds was written all over Amon’s body. His blood-forged limbs were cracked and dented, his skin torn and burned, his chest heaving as he struggled to remain upright.

For a moment, he almost looked mortal again.

Almost.

Then the pendant at his neck flared.

That sickly crimson light pulsed, brighter than before, and I watched with clenched teeth as his wounds began closing, blood-mist knitting his ruined flesh back together.

That pendant.

I made a mental note, eyes narrowing. Whatever it was, that was the source keeping him tethered, dragging him back from the brink again and again.

But I had no time to tear it off him now.

I warped once more, reappearing at Flogga’s side where she knelt beside Narg. She was pale, her hands smeared with blood as she pressed herbs against wounds that refused to stop bleeding.

She looked up at me the moment I appeared, her expression sharp, her eyes full of exhaustion and accusation. A glance that said everything without words.

She was furious.

Most likely pissed that I hadn’t been here when the attack had begun, that I had left them to endure this nightmare alone.

But I couldn’t afford to dwell on her emotions, not now. I wrapped an arm around her and Narg both, then blinked us out of the chaos, reappearing in the relative safety of the cave.

I dropped to my knees beside Narg and uncorked the potion with my teeth, tilting his head back and pouring the liquid between his lips. His body was frighteningly cold beneath my hand, his skin clammy, the stillness of him too close to what I’d felt with Zrok. The memory scraped like glass against the inside of my skull.

I forced myself to shove it down.

This wasn’t the time to think about that. Not when I could still save him.

I flicked open the shop interface again, purchased two more vials, and pressed them into Flogga’s blood-smeared hands.

”Give it to anyone who needs it,” I told her firmly.

And before she could respond, I was gone again.

The world folded, and I returned to the battlefield, dust and blood still thick in the air.

Amon stood at its center. Whole again. His body, once torn apart, was restored as if nothing had happened. The red mist around him pulsed violently, licking at the ground with every breath he took. His head turned slowly, scanning for prey.

Then his eyes locked on me.

And he smiled.

A savage grin, teeth bared, feral and mocking.

It twisted my stomach, igniting a sharp anger in my chest.

That grin pissed me off.