From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem-Chapter 53: A New Player In The Town?

"Hayaa!"

Lyra roared, grabbing the rabid wolf by its slobber-soaked head and twisting hard until something snapped with a satisfying crack.

The beast dropped like a sack of rotten meat.

Took her two solid minutes of dodging, punching, and cussing under her breath to wear it down.

She’d been chipping away at its health like peeling a stubborn fruit—bit by bit—until it was too slow, too stupid, and too weak to stop her.

Bryce slid to the side just in time.

A tiger the size of a damn carriage lunged at him with murder in its eyes.

Too bad for it, Alex was already standing there cool as ice, sword planted like a trap.

The beast practically impaled itself, open mouth first, right down the blade. Instant silence.

Both of them stood there, huffing like bulls, eyes darting around the carnage.

The whole battlefield looked like a monster barbecue gone wrong.

Limbs, guts, and dark, oily blood smeared everywhere.

You couldn’t take a step without squishing something that used to be alive.

Off to the left, Adrian was flinging fireballs like an angry chef tossing spicy meatballs.

One at a time, one by one—clean, crisp, and smug as hell.

Celeste, on the other hand, was going full snowstorm.

Her ice magic hit wide and hard, freezing anything dumb enough to group up.

She was panting, swaying a little, face slick with sweat, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

The beasts just kept coming.

Meanwhile, Melissa was basically a ghost on the battlefield.

Blink once, and you’d swear the archer wasn’t even there.

Blink twice, and you’d catch a flash of light streaking across the sky—magic arrows raining down like divine punishment, precise and merciless.

She was perched high in a tree like some smug woodland sniper, legs crossed, hood up, eyes gleaming behind enchanted lenses.

From up there, she had the whole chaos map laid out in front of her like a board game.

Beasts moved. Arrows flew. Beasts stopped moving. Easy math.

Smart move on her part too.

These corrupted creatures weren’t thinking.

Just feral meat puppets with teeth.

Anything in front of them got chewed.

But Melissa wasn’t in front of anything.

She was above it all—unreachable, untouchable, and raining hell like a queen with a grudge.

"I think they’re thinning out!"

Lyra yelled, crunching her fingers into a mutated dog’s skull until it went limp like a busted watermelon.

"Yeah, finally. Yesterday it was like playing whack-a-mole on nightmare mode, but now... it’s looking manageable."

Bryce cracked his neck, then squared up as a red-eyed deer came galloping at him like it had a vendetta.

"I think the beasts on this side of the forest are done for. What do you think, Celeste?"

Alex asked, yanking his blood-soaked sword from the twitching body of what looked suspiciously like a steroid-infused rabbit.

Its ears were still flopping.

Gross.

Celeste didn’t even blink.

"Don’t drop your guard just yet. I can still feel that unsettling feeling on my gut. Whatever it is, it hasn’t shown itself."

She scanned the area, her eyes slicing through trees and jagged rock formations like she was trying to peel the forest apart layer by layer.

No birds. No wind.

Just that thick, choking silence that felt a little too staged.

They weren’t here to clean up corrupted beast leftovers.

This mission was about unfinished business.

Something nasty.

Something they’d failed to put down last time, and it was probably watching.

"Do you think—"

Adrian started, right as Melissa’s voice sliced through the air like a whip.

"Guys—someone’s coming. Get ready."

She had already knocked an arrow and narrowed her eyes, hunter instincts flaring.

The figure was walking slow.

Too slow.

Like they were on a Sunday stroll through death row.

Melissa’s vision zoomed in on the stranger, and her breath hitched.

Details hit her like a slap, something about that face. That posture. That lazy swagger.

The others instantly snapped to alert, weapons raised.

The remaining beasts, just ten now, suddenly stopped fighting.

They leapt back, up onto a jagged ridge, parting in eerie unison like they knew something the heroes didn’t.

The forest was dead silent now.

Not even the wind dared to breathe.

The air was thick with that heavy, metallic stench of beast blood and scorched bark.

The heroes, bloodied and panting, were just starting to appreciate the rare break from mindless slaughter.

Then came the voice.

"Ah, would you look at that. The heroes finally doing what they were supposed to do all this time."

The words weren’t right.

The sound was distorted, like two voices stacked on top of each other, speaking in eerie sync, one high and mocking, the other low and venomous.

Every hair on every neck went stiff.

Then he stepped into view.

Right into the middle of the ridge, bold as daylight, flanked by the beasts like they were his personal entourage.

They snarled and twitched at his sides but didn’t pounce.

No, they stood there, like loyal attack dogs waiting for the command.

He wasn’t human

It was a goblin.

He stood at least five foot nine, very tall by goblin standards, towering over his twisted kin like a prince among vermin.

His armor wasn’t the usual patchwork trash goblins wore either.

He wore tight-fitted leather, sleek and dark, clinging to him like a second skin.

And in his hand, a long obsidian spear, polished and deadly.

The comparison between him and the goblins back at the camp was laughable. freewёbnoνel.com

It was like comparing a house cat to a fucking panther. This wasn’t just evolution—this was a different breed altogether.

If this guy had been the one massaging Lyra that night, and she’d accidentally seen his goblin dong, Bryce would’ve called it cheating.

No hesitation. No debate.

That’s how different this bastard looked—like he came with cheat codes installed.

But it wasn’t just his body or gear that set him apart.

It was his eyes.

Those blood-red eyes didn’t just gleam—they burned. Not with rage. Not with madness.

With purpose.

And something far darker.

There was corruption swimming behind that gaze. Ancient. Focused. Alive.

He looked like him.

The Goblin King.

But it wasn’t.

He was younger. Leaner. Sleek instead of bulky.

No rippling muscles or towering height, this one looked like he could slide a blade into your ribs and be gone before you knew you were bleeding.

Still... the resemblance was too close to ignore.

And that made it worse.

Because if this wasn’t the Goblin King—

Then who the hell was he?