Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP

”I thought you were going to leave.”

I frowned slightly.

”You seem eager to kick me out.”

Talia blinked.

”Granted,” I continued, ”about a week ago, you were complaining that I never visited and didn’t pay enough attention to you.”

”That was because you hadn’t assigned me any responsibilities yet,” she replied immediately.

She gestured around the workshop.

”Now I have enough work to keep me trapped in here all day.”

I glanced around.

Honestly...

She wasn’t exaggerating.

There were workers moving everywhere.

Projects stacked on top of projects.

Armor pieces covering entire shelves.

The amount of work in the room was absurd.

”So you don’t need to visit,” she finished. ”If I need something, I’ll come find you.”

”Oh.”

The response slipped out before I could stop it.

Talia tilted her head slightly.

”What?”

”Nothing.”

I waved it off.

”Keep working.”

She nodded and immediately turned her attention back toward the workshop, already calling out instructions before I’d even fully reached the doorway.

I quietly left the building.

Then, the moment I stepped outside, I let out a long sigh.

Honestly, that hadn’t gone how I’d expected.

Part of me had been looking forward to seeing what she’d created.

Maybe hearing her ramble about armor enhancements, monster materials, or some new discovery she’d made while experimenting with the crystals.

Instead, she’d practically shooed me out the door.

I stood there for a moment before shaking my head.

It wasn’t personal.

At least, I didn’t think it was.

Talia was just busy.

Very busy.

Still...

I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed as I continued walking through the settlement.

I headed toward Granny Flogga’s workshop next, but before I even stepped inside, I heard a loud curse erupt from within. A second later, something shattered.

I immediately turned around and walked away.

Whatever was happening in there had absolutely nothing to do with me.

Flogga was many things, but one thing I had learned very quickly was that when the old goblin reached a certain level of irritation, the smartest course of action was simply to leave her alone until she calmed down.

I wasn’t about to volunteer myself as the next target of her frustration.

As I continued through the settlement, I couldn’t help but admit something to myself.

Things were... surprisingly boring. Not that I was complaining. Well, maybe a little. But ever since deciding to delegate responsibilities properly, most of the work that would’ve normally landed on my shoulders has been handed off to others.

Zarah handled the combat organization. Caius handled strategy. Narg oversaw internal matters. Doro and Bundi practically lived inside construction projects. Talia was buried beneath mountains of armor and equipment.

Even the newer goblins had settled into their respective roles.

For the first time since arriving in this world, I wasn’t being dragged in twenty different directions at once. And somehow, that felt strange.

I had also put a temporary halt to the aggressive hunting expeditions we’d been conducting.

The goblins had already reached the levels we needed.

More importantly, many of them had gained those levels far too quickly. Sure, one could argue that more levels were always beneficial. More levels meant more strength. More strength meant better chances of survival. But there was a limit.

The goblins had gained an enormous amount of power in only a few days. If they continued growing at that pace without learning how to properly control their new abilities, they would eventually become a danger to themselves and everyone around them.

Strength wasn’t everything. Being able to use that strength properly mattered just as much.

So for now, I wanted them to train, spar, and adapt to what they had already gained.

That was the official reason, at least. The truth was a little more complicated.

Over the past few days, a thought had been lingering in the back of my mind.

Raghul.

The shaman had remained unusually quiet ever since losing the garnets. No attacks. No scouts. No retaliation. Nothing.

The silence bothered me.

Eventually, it bothered me enough that I decided to do something about it. So a few nights ago, I went looking for him. Alone.

What I found there, however, wasn’t what I expected.

The place was empty. Completely empty.

Not a single goblin remained. No guards. No workers. No warriors. Nothing.

At first, I thought it might have been some sort of trap. A hidden ambush. A deception. So I spent hours searching the area.

I checked the structures. The storage areas. The surrounding territory. Everywhere. The result was always the same.

Nobody was there.

And it wasn’t just the goblins who had vanished. Everything useful had disappeared with them.

The food stores had been cleared out. Tools were gone. Weapons were gone. Armor was gone. Even the mounts had been taken.

The entire clan had packed up and left.

The more I thought about it, the less comfortable I became.

If Raghul had simply wanted revenge, abandoning his settlement didn’t make much sense.

If he intended to attack us directly, why leave behind a defensible location? And if he had given up entirely, why take everything with him?

The possibilities weren’t reassuring.

Either he had accepted defeat and joined another clan...

Or he was somewhere out there preparing for something larger.

The second possibility worried me far more. Because if Raghul truly intended to disappear, there would’ve been no reason to strip the settlement completely bare before leaving.

I had asked Caius about it afterward, and according to him, Raghul joining another candidate was the most likely explanation.

The reasoning was simple. Raghul was cautious. Painfully cautious.

From everything Caius knew about him, the shaman wasn’t the type to gamble recklessly or throw his life away pursuing revenge. If he chose to attack someone, it was because he believed the odds favored him. If the odds didn’t, he’d retreat, regroup, and wait for a better opportunity.

In Caius’ words, Raghul wasn’t stupid enough to fight a battle he knew he couldn’t win.

Which meant there was a good chance he had abandoned his old clan and attached himself to another candidate.

Unfortunately, that possibility didn’t reassure me.

It made me significantly more nervous.

Because if Raghul had truly joined another candidate, then he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He would have allies. Resources. Protection. And potentially an entire clan backing him.

For a goblin to become a candidate in the first place, they couldn’t be ordinary. Whether through strength, influence, intelligence, or some combination of all three, every candidate had managed to distinguish themselves from countless others.

And now there was a possibility that one of those candidates had gained Raghul. A shaman intelligent enough to overthrow Caius and force him out of his own clan.

Yeah. There were plenty of reasons to be concerned.