Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

A few minutes earlier—

Ariel moved like a streak of silver through the forest, her paws barely disturbing the frost-covered ground as she darted between the trees. The scent trail was faint but distinct, clinging to air like smoke after a fire.

It was the scent of a Chosen—Ingrid’s scent.

She had learned something during her time with Eli:

Chosens carried a unique signature, not just in their mana but in their very essence. It was sharper, cleaner, and radiated with a faint pulse that ordinary goblins lacked.

Once she recognized it, tracking them became second nature.

That was what she was doing now—following the thin thread of Ingrid’s scent through the dense woods, letting instinct and hunger for the hunt guide her.

But the deeper she went, the more her instincts began to scream at her. The air around her changed, thickened with something oppressive. The scent she was following no longer belonged to one Chosen.

There were several—mingling, overlapping, all of them converging somewhere ahead.

Ariel slowed to a crawl, her ears twitching as she tried to count them.

One, two... no—three...multiple distinct auras, each pulsing with its own rhythm of power.

Her fur bristled.

There was only one possible explanation.

There were more of them.

The realization hit her like a splash of ice water, killing the thrill that had been driving her forward. The excitement of the hunt evaporated, replaced by the heavy awareness that she could be outnumbered if she continued.

Now she was confident she could take down one Chosen on her own—but multiple?

That was suicide.

She had no idea how strong the others were, and there was always the chance that one of them was as broken, as absurdly powerful, as Eli himself. If that was the case, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

Her instincts screamed at her to retreat. It was the smart choice. Get back, regroup, and wait for Eli. She had no reason to play the hero.

Ariel slowed to a stop, claws digging into the frost-hardened soil as she turned sharply to withdraw. But the moment she pivoted—

She collided with something solid.

”What—”

The word barely left her lips before she recoiled, leaping back several paces. Her tails flared out, fur bristling as a low growl rumbled from her throat.

Her eyes darted upward, locking onto the figure that had appeared silently before her.

The goblin standing there was nothing like the others she’d encountered.

The Chief towered over her, his height closer to that of a hobgoblin than an ordinary goblin. Broad-shouldered and perfectly still, he exuded a cold composure that made her skin crawl. His skin was dark—an unnatural shade of obsidian—crisscrossed with faint crimson veins that pulsed beneath the surface, glowing like molten cracks in cooled stone.

A mane of silvery-white hair framed his face—too sharp, too regal to belong to a goblin. His cheekbones were high, his jaw narrow, and his eyes burned a molten gold rimmed with crimson, giving the unsettling impression that something ancient and cruel lived behind them.

His armor looked like it had been forged from the remains of the fallen—blackened bone fused with blood-forged steel, each plate etched with flickering runes that pulsed faintly, as if alive and breathing. Over his shoulders hung a tattered crimson cloak, its edges frayed and darkened, swaying in the night wind like the banner of a conqueror who had long since forgotten mercy.

The aura radiating from him was suffocating.

Ariel’s pulse hammered in her chest. Her fur stood on end, and her breath came out uneven, clouding in the cold air. Her instincts screamed at her that she was standing before something far beyond her understanding.

What kind of goblin is this? she thought, taking a hesitant step back.

The massive figure tilted his head slightly, studying her with calm detachment. Then, in a voice so composed and cold that it scraped across her bones, he spoke.

”You... what are you?”

The question wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t even truly curious. It was a statement of dominance—a predator acknowledging another creature only long enough to decide whether to crush it or let it run.

Ariel didn’t answer.

Without a sound, her body flickered and split into a dozen shimmering afterimages. The air rippled with distortion as her mirage skill activated, each copy darting in a different direction, their movements blending with the mist and trees.

She fled—not to escape entirely, but to confuse, to distract, to buy herself even a few seconds.

Because, she knew...this wasn’t a fight she could win.

But before she could gain any distance, the massive goblin pressed one palm to the ground.

The air shifted instantly.

An ominous light pulsed from beneath his hand—black and red, oily and alive—and then it spread, rippling outward like liquid shadow. The earth withered where it passed, grass curling into ash, roots shriveling to dust. Even the trees recoiled, their bark darkening as the corruption crawled up their trunks.

It was death—pure and consuming—and it moved faster than wildfire.

Ariel barely had time to react.

Her mirages were swallowed first, collapsing one by one as the spreading decay erased them from existence.

Each flicker vanished in a hiss of black smoke, until only the real Ariel remained.

She leapt, muscles tensing as her body blurred into motion, the world spinning beneath her. She barely cleared the edge of the spreading corruption before landing hard on a patch of untainted soil.

But she had no time to recover—

A hand shot out of nowhere, large and impossibly fast, clamping around her throat.

Her eyes widened in shock a split second before the ground met her back.

CRACK!

The impact rattled through her entire body, a bone-shattering force that knocked the breath from her lungs.

Pain exploded across her ribs, and she felt something give way—two, maybe three bones snapping under the sheer strength of the blow. Blood welled up in her throat, spilling from the corner of her mouth as she gasped, struggling for air.

The goblin—if she could even call him that—lifted her effortlessly with one arm, his grip vice-like around her neck. His crimson-veined skin pulsed faintly, the glow reflecting in his molten eyes as he studied her like one might inspect a broken weapon.

The ember fox...