Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP-Chapter 38: Choose

"You don’t learn, do you?"

I said, voice low and amused, watching the flicker of indecision cross the shaman’s face. He raised his staff halfway, mana swirling at the tip—then hesitated, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

He wasn’t stupid.

He knew by now that any attack he hurled would only end up as one of the many means I could use to slaughter his own men, so he held back.

I saw the frustration building behind his eyes.

But while he held back, uncertain, one of his underlings wasn’t so cautious.

The hasty bastard lunged at me, screaming, so I sidestepped with a swing, severing its limbs, and slit its throat before it could even scream.

One of the direwolves then charged, and I braced to meet it, but danger sense rang, and I spotted an arrow flying towards me, but strangely, it was slow and weak enough to catch.

So I caught it, my grip tightening around the arrow’s shaft as I proceeded to use it as a weapon, driving it into the direwolf’s eye just as it leapt, killing it instantly.

I turned and saw the second direwolf, enraged by its partner’s death, bounding toward me.

I also saw the archer who had fired the weak arrow, an injured goblin caught by one of the shaman’s blasts.

The werewolf lunged at me, and I shook my head at its predictability. Its attack mirrored the exact same pattern as the first direwolf.

I triggered [Swap], and in a blink, the injured goblin archer took my place—right as the second direwolf lunged.

The direwolf’s jaws clamped around the goblin’s torso, and the scream didn’t even last a second.

Blood soaked the grass as the beast tore the goblin apart, locked in a mindless frenzy.

And I reappeared beside it and punched it square on the head with all of my strength, its skull collapsing beneath my knuckles as I drove it into the dirt.

It lay still, dead.

And I stared at my fist, stunned.

How powerful...

Then again, I was level 15. The direwolves? Level 9.

Of course,e my strength was greater.

Still, it felt good.

Another wave of goblins surrounded me—but I was too fast. I darted between them, slicing arms, necks, legs—precision and speed.

From above, a goblin dropped from a tree, trying to ambush me.

I caught it mid-air by the throat.

Then I swapped places with the shaman—just to test something.

And to my surprise, he was in my grasp.

My eyes widened in shock.

I could touch him?

The shaman looked just as shocked.

Before I could do anything, his barrier flared, shoving me back, and I muttered under my breath.

That was unexpected.

The shaman recovered quickly and, enraged, launched multiple fireballs in rapid succession.

I triggered [Swap] again, and another goblin took the blast, its body charring in an instant.

I reappeared a few paces away.

The shaman, still furious for some reason, raised his staff again and fired—

But this time, I swapped places with him, and he appeared directly in the path of his own fireball.

WHOOSH!

BOOM!

The shaman screamed as the explosion sent him flying. He crashed to the ground, and when the smoke cleared, I saw something unexpected.

His magic shield was active, but he was injured.

What this meant was that even though his barrier was active now, it hadn’t been before the blast struck.

He’d tried to react, but the attack landed first.

Now, inside his barrier, he dropped to one knee, smoke rising from his scorched robes.

I grinned, elated.

That was it.

He couldn’t cast his magic barrier and fireballs at the same time.

That was his weakness.

The shaman rose shakily, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Y-You... You bastard! You’ll pay for this!"

I didn’t respond.

Most of his soldiers were dead.

The few remaining hesitated after seeing what they were up against.

His weakness was exposed.

The battle was already over in spirit.

Still, the shaman raised his staff, casting a spell on the goblin, and suddenly, all hesitation vanished from the soldiers, and they charged confidently.

But I shouted, activating [Roar of Intimidation].

A guttural, feral sound ripped from my throat, cutting through the battlefield like a blade of fear.

The goblins froze—wide-eyed, trembling.

Then I dashed through them—cleaving heads, limbs, torsos. When the last one fell beneath my blade, I stood still, heart calm, breath steady.

Only the shaman and two goblin soldiers remained.

The shaman’s expression shifted, and I could sense realization dawn on him.

He felt it—the inevitability.

He had brought this many goblins because he knew what he was facing: a blessed of Drugar. Someone he couldn’t afford to underestimate.

But even with the numbers, it wasn’t enough.

The two remaining goblins stood frozen, unsure whether to fight.

So I moved first.

I picked up an arrow from the ground, blinked next to a soldier, and stabbed it directly into its eye—slamming its corpse to the earth.

The last goblin ran, not wanting to die, and the shaman, on seeing this, screamed at it, "Get back here and fight!"

But while he was distracted, I hurled my dagger towards it.

The shaman turned in time, ready to block, but I anticipated this and used [Swap], exchanging the position of the shaman and its soldier.

The fleeing goblin appeared in his place, and a second later, my blade buried itself into its skull.

The shaman reappeared at the edge of the clearing, where the goblin had once stood.

And he sharply turned to see the corpse of his last soldier.

His face soured.

Another one gone.

Only he remained.

I walked toward the fallen goblin, crouched, and pulled out my blade.

Then a notification appeared before me.

Ding!

[You have leveled up]

[You have received 3 free stat points]

I rose with a grin, blood-soaked blade in hand, and turned to face the shaman.

Our eyes locked.

He stepped back instinctively, fear creeping into his gaze.

His bravado had crumbled.

He looked like he wanted to run—but he knew he couldn’t escape. Not from me.

I began walking toward him, my voice cold and steady.

"Tell me... how do you want to die?"

His mouth quivered.

I stopped just in front of him, calm.

Then, I offered options.

"Disembowelment. Decapitation. Or dismemberment?"

I tilted my head, and raised my blade.

"Choose."