Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP-Chapter 280: Frostborne

If she took this so easily... should I give her another?

I hesitated, but only for a moment.

"Zarah," I said, watching her closely, "I’m thinking of sharing another skill line with you. Do you think you can take it?"

"Skill line?" she repeated, confusion flickering across her face.

Right. She wouldn’t know that term. None of them did.

I corrected myself quickly."A blessing... like the one you just received."

The effect was immediate.

Zarah dropped to her knees so fast it caught me off guard. Her back stayed straight, her head bowed slightly, her expression sharpened with a seriousness more intense than I had ever seen from her.

And in that moment, with the wind brushing past us and the clan quiet around us, I realized she wasn’t just accepting power — she was placing her trust in me without reservation, ready to shoulder whatever came next simply because I asked it of her.

That was all the push I needed.

Not giving myself any room to hesitate, I pulled down my stat window, opened the Skill Share menu, and scrolled through the list until I found Frost Vein sitting among the many other abilities I possessed.

I selected it, hit share, and chose Zarah as the receiver.

A soft chime followed.

Ding!

[Would you like to share the skill line: Frost Vein with Zarah?]

I looked at her for a brief moment.

She wasn’t trembling, she wasn’t nervous. She was simply waiting, eyes steady, anticipation clear in the way she held herself. She trusted me completely.

That alone made me answer without delay.

"Yes."

The moment the word left my mouth, the effect hit her.

Zarah’s entire body jolted as if something invisible had slammed into her. Her knees buckled, and she dropped from her kneeling posture, falling sideways onto her hip with a sharp gasp as the impact of the new skill line surged through her system.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers dug into the ground. A light shiver ran across her frame, like a pulse of cold racing just beneath her skin.

Whatever she was experiencing... it was far stronger than what Predator’s Focus had put her through, and the realization settled in just as she groaned, low and strained, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

She trembled hard enough that small vibrations rippled through her legs and shoulders.

I moved immediately, crouching in front of her and placing my hands on her shoulders.

Her skin was cold — not cool, not chilled — cold in a way that didn’t feel natural for any goblin.

"Zarah, how are you feeling?" I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

"I’m... fine, Chief," she answered, but the moment she spoke, a thin stream of cold mist escaped her mouth, drifting into the air like smoke from winter breath.

My eyes narrowed as something else caught my attention.

Her veins — especially the ones along her wrists and neck — shifted in color, taking on a faint, pale blue tint. It wasn’t permanent; it pulsed in and out like something inside her was syncing with her heartbeat. A frost pulse. A slow, steady rhythm of cold that wasn’t there before.

Then everything happened at once.

A surge rippled through her body, and cold fumes burst outward, exploding from her skin in a sharp, icy wave. The force wasn’t violent enough to knock me back, but the sudden drop in temperature made my hands instinctively pull away from her shoulders.

It was like her body had just turned into a miniature frost vent.

I steadied myself, watching as the frost aura around her flickered and thinned, like a storm that had just passed.

Whatever Frost Vein was doing to her... it was powerful.

And it wasn’t gentle.

"Whoa...."

I said slowly as I stepped back, watching every second unfold.

Thin sheets of ice — actual ice — began forming across her green skin, spreading in delicate, crystalline patterns. They looked almost like small glaciers trying to claim her body. But just as quickly as they appeared, they cracked, softened, and dissolved into cold mist that drifted off her like fading breath.

With Predator’s Focus sharpening my vision, I could see more than I expected.

Right beneath her sternum, an icy glow pulsed — the frost core settling into place. It throbbed with rapid, erratic beats at first, like a heart racing too fast.

But then, slowly, it began to regulate.

Zarah’s trembling softened. Her breathing steadied. The cold mist escaping her lips no longer sputtered out in bursts but flowed calmly, like her body was finally accepting the unnatural chill that had flooded through it.

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, a plume of controlled frost drifting from her mouth.

And then she rose.

Slowly, carefully, as if testing her balance with this new weight inside her. As she pushed herself upright, a soft cracking sound spread through the air — ice fracturing across her limbs, her torso, even her face. The thin glaciers that had formed earlier broke away in large flakes, sliding off her like shed armor.

But before any of those ice fragments touched the ground, they melted into fine, snow-like particles that swirled gently around her feet, caught in a breeze that didn’t exist.

"Whoa..."

The word came out of me again, softer this time, almost reverent. I couldn’t help it.

The sight was... beautiful.

Strange, but undeniably beautiful.

Zarah seemed equally mesmerized by what was happening to her.

She lifted her hands slightly, watching the snow-like particles swirl lazily around her fingers. When she moved her hands, the particles followed, drifting and curling in patterns that almost looked intentional, as if the frost was listening to her without her even realizing it.

She played with them for a few seconds, small gestures, slow motions, each one answered by a subtle response from the cold air around her.

Then she stopped and looked at me.

Her eyes—those same steady, calm eyes—now held a clarity so sharp it felt almost unnatural.

There was a faint, glass-like sheen in them, as if a thin layer of frost had settled just behind her irises, refining her focus into something even purer than before.

Then she smiled.

Her smile was not wide, nor dramatic; it was just a small curve of her lips... yet it carried a quiet confidence that sent a shiver down my spine.

And in that moment, with that single, effortless smile, I knew, I just knew...

that I had created a monster.