Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

As we left, I finally paid attention to the place properly.

The pond Zarah and Talia had washed in was actually inside the clan’s territory, sitting near the northeastern edge.

It was tucked behind a cluster of tall, thick-rooted trees whose branches formed a natural canopy overhead.

A slow underground spring fed the pool, keeping the water clear and shallow, and judging from the buckets stacked nearby, this was where the goblins usually bathed, cooked, and sometimes gathered water for washing tools.

A small, practical sanctuary hidden in plain sight.

We made our way to Talia’s quarters next.

Her tent sat between the storage shed and the crafting yard where Bundi and his workers spent most of their time hammering, cutting, and arguing about measurements.

It was close enough to the materials for her to work efficiently, but far enough that she wasn’t in the way of heavy construction.

Inside, the tent looked nothing like the usual goblin mess.

Several racks lined the sides, displaying half-finished pieces of armor, bundles of treated leather, spools of thread in dull earth tones, and rows of neatly arranged needles stuck into cloth rolls.

A low table sat at the center, covered in scraps of fabric, bits of metal, and a few polished stones she probably used for testing enhancements.

It all looked organized in a way only someone careful and particular would manage.

Talia immediately went to one of the racks and started sifting through the armor pieces, humming under her breath.

When she didn’t find what she wanted, she crouched to search through a pile of leather sheets stacked near the corner.

Seconds turned into a full minute.

Then another.

Her movements got more frantic.

The quiet stretched, turning the room awkward as she dove deeper into the pile like she expected the armor to magically appear if she lifted enough leather.

Zarah stood calmly beside me, arms crossed, while I watched Talia slowly unravel, muttering to herself.

”...it was here... I definitely put it here... I know I put it here...” she whispered, tossing pieces aside with increasing desperation.

I could see the sweat starting to form on her forehead as she tore through her supplies, and I was just about to tell her we could come back later when she suddenly froze.

Then she gasped.

She pulled something from beneath a heap of leather—dark, slim armor threaded with thin lines of silver that shimmered faintly even in the dim tent light.

”Here it is,” she said, panting like she’d sprinted halfway across the camp, and handed the armor to Zarah with trembling hands.

Zarah looked amused, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly as she took it, and without hesitation began slipping it on.

”I used your measurements to make it,” Talia said quickly, straightening herself as if she hadn’t just been buried in leather scraps moments ago. ”I originally made it for myself, but when we were talking about my work, I realized it would suit you better.”

Zarah lifted her arms so the breastplate could slide into place, and the armor hugged her frame almost perfectly.

”It’s the perfect measurement, isn’t it?” Talia asked, her voice a mix of pride and hope, eyes shining as she watched Zarah fasten the straps.

Zarah, fully focused on slipping into the sleek-looking armor, answered without lifting her gaze.

”It’s a bit loose.”

Talia’s brows snapped together immediately.

”Are you calling me fat?!”

Zarah didn’t even flinch.

”You have to use the ropes. There’s no way you can tighten it without them.”

She started looking around for the straps, checking the racks and the piles of leather, but her movements were aimless. She didn’t know where Talia kept her things.

I spotted the ropes first and stepped forward.

”Let me.”

I took hold of the cords and pulled them through the lacing points along the sides, tightening each section gradually so the armor molded to Zarah’s body. The leather drew in cleanly, hugging her frame and giving it a seamless, fitted look. She exhaled once, adjusting her shoulders as everything settled into place.

”It looks good, doesn’t it?” Talia asked, a hint of pride slipping into her tone as she watched Zarah turn slightly to test the fit.

”It does,” Zarah said, still testing the fit. ”It’s really light, and the plates are flexible.”

She lifted her arms, rotating her shoulders, then bent slightly and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

”Also, I feel so light with the armor on me. So light I think I could touch the roof of the tent if I jumped.”

”Is that so?” I said, surprised, and looked toward Talia.

”So what does the armor do exactly?”

I already had an idea, but I wanted to hear the specifics from her.

Talia straightened with a proud little smile.

”It increases her agility by fifteen percent,” she said, ”and also grants her a slight speed burst for short sprints.”

I blinked.

That was... extremely good.

And for someone like Zarah—who relied on sharp movement, fast reactions, and precision—that wasn’t just useful. It was perfect. It was armor that enhanced the way she fought rather than clashing against it.

Zarah moved again, twisting at the waist.

”I like it. Thank you,” Zarah said, running her fingers along the newly fitted armor with a small but genuine flicker of appreciation in her eyes.

”Consider it my gift to you,” Talia replied proudly. ”Since we’re friends and all.”

”Friends?” Zarah repeated, her tone so flat it sounded like she was trying to decode a foreign language she’d never heard before.

”Yes, friends,” Talia said, leaning in as if explaining a grand truth. ”It means someone who isn’t your family but someone you like and know well. Or someone you want to know well.”

Zarah blinked once.

”Then we’re not friends,” she concluded immediately, completely missing the emotional cushioning Talia had wrapped around the explanation.

”What—why?!” Talia’s voice cracked. ”Don’t you like me? I like you!”

She tapped her two index fingers together in the most painfully adorable, awkward way possible, her eyes wide and pleading.

Zarah didn’t even pretend to soften. She just answered flatly:

”You...