From Goblin Slave To Giga-Daddy: A Goblin's Guide to Getting a Harem Chapter 54: What happened to her?!

"Let start by saying this... I’m a huge fan of you all."

The goblin grinned—sharp teeth flashing like he was posing for a damn wanted poster.

The heroes tensed instantly.

That tone? That smile? It was mockery, dipped in sarcasm and lit on fire.

But they didn’t move.

Not yet.

This little green freak had just waltzed onto the battlefield like he was strolling through a flower field.

Six of the strongest in the entire kingdom stood before him—and he didn’t flinch. Either he was insanely strong... or just brain-ltingly stupid.

God, they wanted it to be the second one. Really, really badly.

Because none of them were at full strength.

Not after what they’d just been through.

So they stayed quiet, biding their ti, stalling, trying to catch their breath before shit really hit the fan.

"You’ve done a wonderful job with my little village."

Ah. There it is.

Now they were sure.

He was from the goblin village they’d razed.

The one they burned to the ground without rcy, thinking nothing of it.

"Killing us... driving us from our hos into the jaws of death... destroying everything we built..."

His voice cracked just slightly—enough to feel real.

"And best of all? Taking what’s left of us—our elders, our wounded—as your slaves."

His body trembled. Not with fear.

With rage.

Pure, quaking, blood-boiling rage.

"You—the wisest among n, the paragons of virtue or whatever—decided to make a bunch of underdeveloped goblins your damn slaves?! Seriously?!"

The goblin spat the words like venom, each syllable sharp enough to cut bone.

And yeah—he wasn’t wrong. Hypocrisy and these so-called heroes? Two sides of the sa shiny coin.

"That was the only—"

Celeste tried, voice calm, diplomatic.

But oh no. Not today.

"Shut up, butch! Nobody wants to hear a word from your filthy whore mouth unless it’s moaning!"

?!

Even ti paused. Everyone’s jaw hit the floor in sync.

"Look at you—dressed like a street hooker begging to get bred."

Gasps. Literal gasps. The kind that echo through awkward family dinners and battlefield silences alike.

Celeste froze. Her face turned crimson—not from sha, but pure volcanic rage. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that. Not in centuries.

"You—!"

Alex stepped forward, fist clenched.

"Shut the fuck up!"

The goblin roared, now pointing at him like an unhinged drama queen with a god complex.

"Nobody wants to see your discount protagonist face, you walking cuckold!"

"What the actual—?!"

Alex blinked like soone had thrown cold water in his face.

Silence.

The heroes glanced at one another, wide-eyed.

This goblin... wasn’t just throwing punches—he was swinging nukes.

Just hurling insults like a kid in a sandbox who discovered profanity five minutes ago.

And no one—no one—knew what the hell to do.

"You all are nothing but a bunch of hypocrites. But... enough chit-chat."

The goblin cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders with a grin that oozed pure chaos.

"Let’s dance."

And before anyone could even blink, boom—his spear was flying like a goddamn rocket.

Alex barely moved an inch.

Celeste flung up an ice wall out of instinct—but it shattered like glass, the flaming black-red spear punching through it like butter, slamming straight into Alex’s shoulder.

He went airborne like a ragdoll.

"Alex!"

Celeste shrieked, hands shooting up again, conjuring a cushion of snow just in ti to break his fall.

But no ti to breathe—

The goblin was already laughing, already catching a sniper’s arrow with his bare fucking hand.

He twirled it like a twig, yeeted it back toward the trees—

Thunk!

Right into lissa’s thigh. She yelped and crashed down, ass-first, taken out in one clean shot.

Then—bam—the goblin landed right in front of the group like a fallen star, dust kicking up around his feet.

Two down.

Just like that.

Weapons ca out. Stances shifted. Breath held.

The goblin licked his lips, eyes scanning the field—

And then they locked on Lyra.

Grinning. Like he knew she was next.

...

Evening settled in, sky painted in fading gold, and Rae was helping set up beds for the heroes, but his mind? Sowhere else entirely.

"Tch."

He clicked his tongue, scowling at the blanket in his hands.

"Man... I do wanna massage her."

His fingers twitched just thinking about it. That smooth, toned back. That look she gave when he hit the right spot.But...

If he gave in now—just showed up like a good little boy—then what?

She might get her fix, get bored, toss him aside like day-old bread.

Nope. Hell no.

He didn’t want to be her montary toy.

He wanted her obsessed.

Needy.

Desperate.

He wanted her crawling to him, hips twitching, eyes hazy, begging for his hands again.

If he showed up every ti she whistled? Nah. That gave her all the power.He had to flip the ga.

"Fine. No more playing lapdog."

Maybe... tease her a little. Just a little taste. A few strokes. Get her squirming.Then disappear.

Leave her hot, flustered, and starving.

Yeah. That’s the play.

If he does it right, she’ll be the one chasing him next ti, not the other way around.

"Not to ntion, she’s a good girl too. Damn good. Sha about that curse, but hey—too damn lucky I’m the only one who can fix it."

In all honesty, out of every woman he’d t in this crazy-ass world, Lyra sat way up there on the waifu tier list.

Like, goddess-level.

Celeste?

Rock-bottom. Trash-tier.

"Man, whatever. I’ll just make her beg for it."

He exhaled, smug and confident.

Then he heard it—hoofbeats. Heavy, desperate.

His smile blood instantly.

"Stupid bastard. Stay calm. Don’t look excited—"

SLAP

He hit his own cheeks.

Then ca the howling.

Grumpy’s. Followed by Maya’s.

His smile shattered.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

No. No no no—

He bolted outside, boots barely touching the ground.

And what he saw?

A full-blown nightmare.

Alex and Bryce—flung like broken dolls across their horses.

Adrian—slumped forward, clutching the horse’s neck like he was one breath away from the void.

lissa and Celeste? Still holding on, barely, bloodied but alive.

But Lyra?

Gone.

Her horse ca back alone.

Empty saddle. No blood. No rider.

Just cold silence.