Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

Just yesterday, Zarah led an operation against another nearby clan.

Unlike the previous one, this clan was far stronger.

More importantly, their chief was Chosen.

I hadn’t gone with them.

The entire purpose of assigning responsibilities to the others was so they could operate independently rather than relying on me for every major decision.

And Zarah had proven more than capable of handling herself.

Not only had she successfully led the attack, but she had also defeated the enemy chief and brought him back alive.

The memory caused a small smile to form on my face.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure which part impressed me more.

The fact that she had won. Or the fact that she had apparently decided to bring the chief to me afterward.

The Chosen had sworn his loyalty without issue.

At least, that was what everyone thought.

The moment the oath was completed and our attention shifted elsewhere, he made his move. It was a foolish decision. A suicidal one.

He had barely taken a few steps before the consequences of violating the oath struck him.

The goblin suddenly collapsed to his knees, both hands clawing desperately at his chest as blood poured from his mouth. His face twisted in agony, and moments later, his body hit the ground completely.

The oath had crushed his heart.

The surrounding goblins froze. Some stared in horror. Others looked away entirely.

The Chosen struggled weakly for a few seconds before I walked over and finished him off, claiming his skill line.

Silence settled over the area afterward.

The scene had done far more than any threat or speech ever could.

Every goblin present had witnessed exactly what would happen if they attempted to betray the clan after swearing loyalty.

The oath wasn’t a symbol. It wasn’t a promise. It was a binding contract enforced by the system itself. And the consequences of breaking it were absolute.

Whatever resistance remained among the captured goblins vanished almost immediately.

One after another, they stepped forward and swore their allegiance without further incident. By the time it was over, the clan had grown once again.

Our total population had risen to one hundred and twenty goblins.

And with that, the final requirement had been fulfilled.

I had officially secured our place in the King’s Games.

A small smile formed on my face as I looked at the screen.

Every requirement had been fulfilled.

Requirements:

– Chosen must have a kill count of more than 50. [Complete]

– Clan of the Chosen must have at least 100 goblins. [Complete]

– Clan of the Chosen must have 20 goblins above level 50. [Complete]

– Clan of the Chosen must include five or more Chosen. [Complete]

– Defeat a current competitor who has secured their place and claim their spot. [Complete]

[Requirements Met: 5/5]

Five days remained before they began. Five days to prepare. Five days to strengthen the clan further. Five days before, we would be thrown into whatever madness awaited us beyond the countdown.

Honestly, considering everything that had happened since arriving in this world, that amount of time felt both long and ridiculously short at the same time.

I opened the system and checked the countdown once more. Then, after confirming the remaining time, I dismissed the screen and climbed out of bed.

There was something I had been meaning to check for a while now.

Turning away from my quarters, I made my way through the settlement.

The morning was already in full swing.

Goblins moved between buildings carrying supplies, patrols walked along the walls overhead, and workers could be seen transporting materials between workshops. The clan had become considerably more lively since our numbers increased.

Where the settlement had once felt quiet outside of training sessions and work projects, there was now almost constant noise. Goblins chatted as they moved between buildings, workers carried supplies from one location to another, and patrols passed overhead along the fortress walls.

The greatest source of chaos, however, wasn’t the goblins.

It was the children.

The sound of goblin children racing through the settlement echoed from almost every direction. They chased one another with sticks, invented strange games, and somehow managed to turn nearly everything into a competition.

Well... them and the Inferno Wolves.

The pups had grown into absolute menaces.

They would headbutt unsuspecting goblins for no apparent reason before sprinting away, leaving their victims confused and irritated. Other times, they’d join the children in their games, resulting in entire groups of goblin youngsters charging through the settlement while attempting to chase down wolves that were clearly faster than them.

The little beasts also had a habit of chewing on everything. Clothes. Tools. Furniture. Anything they could get their teeth on.

And for some reason, they were surprisingly good thieves.

One incident in particular had become infamous throughout the clan.

A group of pups had somehow managed to sneak into Flogga’s workshop while she was away. By the time she returned, several glass vials had been knocked over, supplies were scattered across the floor, and one of her walking sticks had been chewed down so badly it looked like someone had spent hours carving chunks out of it.

According to the witnesses, Flogga hadn’t said a single word. She had simply stared at the destruction for several seconds before calmly pulling out a smoke bomb.

The pups learned a valuable lesson that day.

Whatever Flogga had thrown at them apparently assaulted every sense they possessed. For hours afterward, they could be seen stumbling around the settlement with watering eyes and twitching noses while making miserable whining sounds.

More importantly, they never entered her workshop again.

In fact, the lesson had been so effective that the moment any of the pups spotted Flogga now, they immediately turned around and fled in the opposite direction. It was honestly one of the funniest things I’d seen recently.

The wolves had gradually learned which goblins they could and couldn’t get away with annoying. They never bothered Flogga. They avoided Narg. They gave Dribb a wide berth after one particularly unfortunate encounter involving a tail and a tree.

And they generally stayed away from the stronger members of the clan altogether.

Instead, they focused their attention on workers, children, and lower-ranking goblins who were far less likely to retaliate. The little monsters were surprisingly calculating.

As I continued walking, I spotted one perched on top of a fence post.

The pup was happily chewing on a chunk of meat that had very obviously been stolen from someone.

The moment it noticed me looking at it, it froze. The meat remained hanging from its mouth.

For several seconds, neither of us moved. Then the wolf slowly looked away and continued chewing as if pretending it hadn’t been caught.

I simply shook my head and kept walking.

At some point, I really needed to speak with Sheera and convince the Matriarch to keep her children under control. Or at least try.

Though I wasn’t entirely sure how successful that conversation would be. Still, despite all the trouble they caused, I couldn’t deny the effect they had on the settlement.

The constant noise, the children running around, the wolves causing mischief, the arguments, laughter, and activity filling every corner of the clan. It made the place feel alive.

More than that, it made the settlement feel like an actual community rather than a group of goblins gathered together purely for survival.

And somehow, that realization left me feeling strangely satisfied as I continued toward Talia’s workshop.