Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

The moment my feet hit stone I was already sweeping the cave, eyes cutting from one figure to the next until they snagged on Narg, and relief came at me hot and immediate enough to make my chest unclench.

He was alive.

For a second I let myself picture the worst: Zzok’s pale stillness, the hollow look of someone gone, and the image almost tipped me over.

I had been afraid Narg would end up the same.

But he sat propped against the cave wall, bandages wrapped tight around his torso and arm, the cloth stained dark where the blood had soaked through.

He was breathing and blinking and very much there — fragile, yes, but alive, and that little, stubborn fact steadied me more than any victory ever could.

He saw me first — which was typical of him — and one flare of surprise crossed his face before he tried to stand straighter, like some reflexive gesture of respect.

I moved before he could, folding space with [Warp] and closing the distance in half a heartbeat, but instead of letting him make some foolish, proud show of standing I grabbed his shoulder and held him there, steadying him with a grip that said stop.

For a moment Narg resisted, his muscles twitching as if he wanted to push back against my restraint, but then his gaze met mine. The fight drained from his eyes and he lowered his head, voice carrying a quiet rasp.

”Chief.”

The sound of it spread like fire through dry grass. One after another, the others turned, and as soon as they realized I had returned, their voices followed his.

”Chief!”

”Chief!”

The word echoed through the cave, rough but steady, and though their bodies bore cuts, bruises, and exhaustion, the way they looked at me carried something close to relief. They had endured, beaten and bloodied but not broken, and once again they had survived.

I acknowledged them with a slow nod, forcing down the knot in my throat as I swept my gaze across their faces. Each one was alive, scarred but breathing, and that meant more to me than I would ever admit aloud.

When my eyes returned to Narg, I noticed he was staring down at the ground, his jaw tight, his shoulders slightly hunched.

He looked almost embarrassed, though I couldn’t tell why.

Was it shame at being wounded? Or was it something else — frustration?

I tightened my grip on his shoulder, not to pin him down this time but to steady him.

My voice dropped low:

”Are you alright?”

”Yes, Chief,” he murmured, his head still lowered, voice rough as if every word scraped against his throat.

But then, almost reluctantly, he spoke again, softer this time, laced with apology.

”I am sorry... for failing the task you gave me. I was supposed to lead, to hold them together. Yet I passed out — even after the power you granted me.”

I blinked, the words sinking in, and a frown carved its way across my face. What the hell was he saying?

”You call this failure?” I snapped, my voice rising before I could hold it back. The sound cracked across the cave like a whip.

Narg flinched, but slowly he raised his head, meeting my glare with eyes dulled by guilt.

”Look around you, Narg,” I told him, my voice sharp enough to cut through the fog in his mind. ”Count the numbers. Tell me — is there anyone missing? Anyone dead?”

He froze, eyes flicking to the side but never daring to fully turn. His jaw clenched, his throat worked as if to answer, but no sound came out.

”Count!” I barked, my voice sharper and louder than I meant, the sound ricocheting off the stone walls and drawing every gaze in the cavern toward us.

Narg startled, then obeyed without hesitation.

His eyes moved slowly across the group, lips parting as he tallied them one by one.

When he was finished, his shoulders sagged, and he gave a small shake of his head.

”No one is missing,” he admitted, his voice subdued.

”Exactly,” I said, my tone firm but steady now. ”That means you didn’t fail. Not even close.” I leaned closer, forcing him to hold my gaze.

”You did well, Narg. Better than well. I’m proud of you.”

My hand came down on his shoulder, not as restraint this time but as reassurance, a weight meant to anchor him to the truth I was speaking.

Then I turned, sweeping my eyes across the rest of them.

They were watching, every single one of them, tense as if my judgment could decide whether they stood tall or bowed in shame.

”In fact,” I continued, raising my voice so it carried to the farthest corner, ”I’m proud of all of you. You stood your ground. You fought. And you survived. You did well — all of you.”

The change was immediate.

Shoulders straightened, eyes lit, and the cave seemed to brighten with the sudden swell of energy.

They beamed back at me, surprised, almost giddy at the rare compliment, as if those simple words had turned the weight of the battle into something they could carry with pride.

”Rest up, everyone,” I said, my voice carrying across the chamber. ”And don’t waste your energy on worry. This will be the last time we get attacked like this.”

That earned me a ripple of confusion, but it was Flogga who spoke up first, her tone edged with curiosity.

”What do you mean by that, Chief?”

I glanced at her, then straightened.

”Let’s talk,” I said simply, already turning away.

Flogga followed without argument, the soft scrape of her stick against the stone floor marking her pace behind me.

As we moved, I felt Zarah’s eyes on my back — sharp, questioning, perhaps even accusatory — but I didn’t turn to meet them.

I slipped inside the narrow chamber and lowered myself to the ground, leaning back against the cold cave wall. The stone bit through my skin, grounding me.

Flogga entered a moment later, her cane tapping rhythmically as she made her way across the uneven floor. She stopped in front of me, planting the stick firmly at her side.

I turned my head toward her, meeting her gaze.

And for a long while, neither of us spoke. We just stared.

Then I finally broke the silence, my voice low but steady.

”You seem to have something on your mind, Flogga. Speak it.”

Her lips pressed tight for a moment before she let out a slow breath, her eyes not leaving mine.

”Chief...” she said quietly, her tone carrying a weight that made my chest tighten. ”Are you... are you trying to...