Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP-Chapter 301: Acceleration

[Time left until the King's Games begin: 1 week, 6 days]

[17:59:58]

[17:59:59]

[18:00:00]

I stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.

Almost two full days had already slipped by.

The realization tightened something in my chest. Every hour I wasted was an hour I wouldn't get back once the games began. Whatever preparation I intended to make, whatever leverage I hoped to build, I needed to accelerate it now.

There was no room left for hesitation.

I exhaled slowly, then placed a firm grip on Gork's shoulder and activated [Leap].

The world folded and then released us in a rush of displaced air, and in the next instant, we were standing just outside the clan gate. The familiar walls loomed behind us, solid and reassuring, while the untamed stretch of land ahead felt suddenly vast and uncertain.

The journey had begun.

I turned slightly toward him. "So where to?"

"Initially," Gork interrupted, adjusting his footing as he took in our surroundings, "I thought we'd have to walk there. But with your abilities, that would just be a waste of a serious amount of time, so..." He lifted his arm and gestured toward the distant horizon. "I'll point you in the right direction, and you can warp us there to cross the distance faster."

Gork then pulled out a roughly drawn map, the parchment creasing as he unfolded it, lines and markings scratched into it with practical intent rather than artistry. It showed the surrounding region in broad strokes, several unique locations marked out, along with the winding path that eventually led to where we were headed.

"You have a map," I said, studying it briefly.

"Yes, Chief," Gork replied. "We also left landmarks along the way. That way, if we ever needed to return, we wouldn't lose the route."

Smart.

"Alright," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder again, grounding him. "I'll be trusting you then. Where to first?"

He didn't hesitate.

He lifted his arm and pointed ahead, angling slightly to the left, and I locked onto the direction before activating [Warp].

The forest folded inward, space compressing as we crossed a massive distance in an instant, reappearing deep high above the towering trees and dense undergrowth.

And that became the rhythm of our travel.

Gork would point out the general direction, and I would warp us forward, cutting through distances that would've taken days on foot. Each jump shaved hours off the journey, but it wasn't perfect. Every so often, we had to drop back down to the ground and walk, scanning the terrain for the landmarks he'd mentioned, crude carvings on trees, stacked stones, or oddly shaped rock formations meant to guide the way.

Those moments slowed us down.

Sometimes the landmarks were easy to spot, obvious once you knew what you were looking for. Other times, we missed them entirely, warping too far or too wide, forcing us to double back and retrace our steps until we found the marker we'd overlooked. When that happened, we had to adjust our angle and continue again, correcting our course little by little.

Honestly, I would've preferred for us to stay as high as possible the entire way. From above, the terrain made more sense. Landmarks were easier to spot, distances easier to judge, and the map could serve its purpose properly, pointing us toward a general location while I crossed massive stretches of land in seconds. It was efficient. Clean. Fast.

And at first, that was exactly what we did.

We warped repeatedly, skipping over forest, ridges, and valleys in rapid succession, covering in minutes what would've taken days on foot. From my perspective, it felt natural, almost effortless. I was used to the sensation, used to the way space folded and reformed around me.

Gork was not.

I hadn't accounted for that.

It didn't take long for the adverse effects to show. At first, it was just dizziness, the way he'd sway slightly after a warp, forcing himself to steady his breathing. Then came the headaches, the faint groans he tried and failed to suppress. Eventually, it got worse.

After one particularly long jump, Gork barely managed to stagger a few steps before he doubled over and threw up, his body finally protesting the abuse.

That was when it clicked.

His body wasn't attuned to my ability the way mine was. Every warp tore at his senses, forcing his equilibrium to reset over and over again without warning.

Warping a couple of times was manageable, but when it happened repeatedly in quick succession, his body began to suffer, unable to handle the strain because it wasn't attuned to the ability.

What felt like a shortcut to me was torture to him.

So we scrapped the plan.

I wanted to reach the rival clan as quickly as possible, but I wasn't so heartless as to grind Gork into the ground just to save time. We slowed our pace, spacing out the warps, walking more, letting his body recover between jumps.

It costs us speed.

But it kept us functional.

We ran into beasts from time to time, territorial creatures drawn by movement or the unfamiliar presence of two intruders cutting through their domain. Most of them didn't last long. A flare of my aura was usually enough to send the weaker ones scattering into the undergrowth, instincts screaming at them to flee.

For the ones that didn't run, I made it a point not to finish them myself.

I would restrain them, break their momentum, or incapacitate them just enough for Gork to step in and deliver the final blow. Each kill pushed his level higher, strengthened his body, and sharpened his confidence, and I could see the change take hold little by little.

The more fights he survived, the more motivated he became.

That motivation did more than improve his morale. His tolerance for warping increased as well, his body gradually adapting to the strain, the dizziness setting in slower, the nausea becoming easier for him to shake off. With each adjustment, we were able to pick the pace back up, alternating between bursts of warping and steady movement on foot.

After several more cycles of searching, correcting our route, and pressing forward, Gork finally stopped. He bent slightly, hands resting on his knees as he wiped the sweat from his face, breathing hard but controlled.

"We're close now," he said, lifting his head as he spoke.