Goblin King: My Innate Skill Is OP-Chapter 40: Broken

I only needed my prey in sight—and as soon as the shaman became visible from above, I met the condition to use [Swap].

My plan was simple: switch places mid-fall and let gravity do the killing. The shaman would find himself plummeting from an absurd height, headfirst, with no time to react.

It wasn’t the first time I’d used this tactic. Earlier, it had worked well enough—the shaman had been forced to waste mana cushioning his descent with a fireball and his barrier.

But this time... this time, I was falling from much higher.

I doubted those same spells would help him now.

Even if he could activate them in time, the sheer velocity at which he would drop would punch straight through whatever protection he could conjure. I was moving like a meteor—unstoppable and deadly.

With a sharp clap of my hands, I activated [Swap], and in a blink, I stood safely on the ground. The shaman—still grinning smugly just a second ago—was now hurtling toward the earth like a flaming sack of regret.

He screamed all the way down, limbs flailing, trying desperately to stabilize himself mid-air.

But it was useless.

BOOM!

He slammed into the ground with a brutal thud, the sound echoing through the clearing like a battering ram against stone.

Dust flew. Bits of dirt and grass scattered.

I walked forward, slowly, deliberately, my eyes locked on the crater his body had created.

He wasn’t moving.

But I wasn’t taking chances.

I blinked once more—appearing directly above him—and drove my blade down with all my strength.

CLANG!

Sparks erupted. The blow was caught by the damn barrier again.

I sighed.

Even after that fall... it was still active?

Insane.

The shaman must’ve reflexively triggered the shield while he was falling. Impressive reflexes—but judging from how deeply he’d cratered the earth, it hadn’t helped much.

It seemed the shield could block projectiles and attacks just fine, but kinetic trauma from a high-velocity impact? Not so much.

The goblin groaned from the center of the crater.

He was alive.

Barely.

I watched as his trembling hand fumbled at his side pouch and pulled out a glowing red potion. A healing brew. Without even sitting up, he uncorked it and tried to chug it.

I shook my head, unimpressed.

"Drinking that isn’t going to save you," I said flatly.

He froze, lips still wrapped around the bottle.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at me.

I grinned at the fear in his eyes—then warped away again.

This time, I didn’t go as high.

Just high enough to build speed.

Then I tilted downward, nose-diving like a living missile.

Mid-fall, I clapped once again, activating [Swap].

WHOOSH.

The shaman goblin reappeared in the air, arms flailing wildly as gravity took over.

And then—

WHAM!

He slammed into the ground so hard his body bounced off the dirt before collapsing in a heap.

"AARRGH!"

He groaned, twitching. His limbs spasmed as pain wracked his entire body. His breathing came in ragged gasps. Blood leaked from his nose. Bones were definitely broken—maybe even shattered.

I landed nearby, crouched, watching the damage.

The shaman clenched his jaw, teeth grinding as he tried to suppress another scream. Agony and disbelief danced in his eyes.

He’d underestimated me.

He thought he was entering a battle of stamina. A contest of mana attrition.

He hadn’t accounted for this level of savagery.

He tried to rise to his feet, but his legs buckled.

His staff was gone, flung somewhere during the impact.

And that meant he couldn’t use his fireball attacks or shoot wooden spikes at me.

The only ability left to him was the magic shield.

But even that wasn’t effective against my methods.

He tried to flee—stumbling forward like a drunk, gasping, crawling more than walking.

I heard the sound before I saw it: a pathetic gurgling cough.

The shaman looked up and saw me descending again.

He cursed under his breath.

"Not again..."

I clapped.

[Swap].

He went airborne again.

Then fell, hitting the ground with a sound like a tree trunk splitting.

"AHHH!" he screamed, but I wasn’t satisfied.

That scream wasn’t loud enough.

I blinked upward again.

Dove.

Clapped again.

[Swap].

SLAM!

Another scream from the shaman.

Still not loud enough.

"How about one more?" I muttered, eyes narrowed.

I soared again—and once more, we switched.

The shaman crashed into the dirt, limp and bloodied.

His screams now had a different tone—broken, hopeless, begging.

"One more..." I whispered again.

"W-Wait!" he croaked. "Please—stop! I surrender!"

I froze.

Then said coldly, "Surrender? There’s no surrendering for you, bro. Death is your only way out."

"Wait—!"

The shaman pleaded, but I blinked away, rising high above him one final time, then let myself fall.

One last time.

Clap.

[Swap].

THUD.

The sound was... different.

Not like the others. It wasn’t a scream.

It was silence.

Just a sickening crack, followed by nothing.

I stood still for a moment, watching the dust settle.

Then I walked forward.

The shaman lay sprawled in the dirt, twisted awkwardly. His limbs bent at angles that limbs shouldn’t bend. His body shuddered—barely.

No kill notification yet.

He was still alive. Somehow.

I hesitated.

There was always a risk. The shaman could have one last desperate spell, a trap rune, or a muttered dying curse.

But I couldn’t leave it unfinished.

His staff was nowhere in sight, which meant there was no way to cast. And with all of his limbs twisted from the continuous falls, I doubted he could even lift a hand.

Even if he tried something... {Danger Sense} would alert me.

So I decided to be bold and approach.

Reaching the crater where the shaman lay sprawled—like Yamcha from DBZ—I crouched beside him.

The shaman didn’t move.

I doubted he was breathing.

So casually, I tapped his forehead with two fingers.

"Hey... You alright?"

No response.

"Wake up."

Still no response.

I frowned and gave his head a light pat.

"Don’t sleep on me now."

I leaned in closer to his ear.

"Not while I’m...