CHAPTER 91: HE HOMO?!

Or...

The second outcome was terrifying.

More than terrifying. It was a damn nightmare dressed in a king’s robe.

Because she knew people like that existed.

Beings so powerful, their aura didn’t just hide—it vanished.

Their presence became weightless. Soundless. Invisible.

Not because they were weak.

But because they had transcended the very need to be sensed.

The old elven queen was one of them.

Centuries-old. Graceful. Regal. And monstrous in power.

Stand next to her, and the only clue you’d get about her strength was the instinctual tightening in your gut.

Like your soul knew it was standing beside a god.

Celeste remembered that suffocating feeling.

The way her instincts had screamed even when her magic told her "all clear."

And now... she felt it again.

Right here.

In front of her.

Staring at a man she swore they had killed.

"Don’t tell me..."

She didn’t realize she’d spoken it aloud, until—

"Don’t."

Came the deep, calm voice from Rae.

She froze.

"You can’t sense my powers, hero."

"I have simply out-leveled you. Months ago."

Her blood ran cold.

Gear’s eyes widened.

He looked at Rae like a teenage fanboy seeing a rockstar walk off a burning stage.

He nearly dropped his spear.

’So cool!’

Meanwhile, Rae was shaking inside like a chihuahua on espresso, but none of it showed.

He wasn’t powerful.

He wasn’t even in the same league as her.

But he knew the basics of fantasy logic.

Everyone senses power first.

Rae know that very well. He had read and watched countless stories to know that.

And of course, like the Creator had anticipated this meeting long ago, Rae had the perfect counter for that.

His passive skill that hides his level up until level fifty.

A skill that he had thought was just useful, but right now... it was everything.

It made him look like a god.

Celeste couldn’t feel a damn thing, and that was exactly what made her panic.

Rae smirked.

Not because he meant to.

But because he finally figured out it was time to act.

Time to play the role.

Time to go full Goblin King.

Rae took a slow, dramatic step forward.

Each footfall felt like thunder in Celeste’s bones.

He spoke again, voice deeper, colder than the woods around them.

"Do you know what it’s like, Celeste..."

"...to be killed by people you deemed inferior?"

She flinched.

"To be paraded through streets like a trophy?"

"My head—my crown—presented to your kings and queens as if it was yours to take?"

Rae clenched his fist, theatric golden light flickering over his arms like boiling power barely restrained.

Celeste held her ground, but her eyes twitched.

Rae smirked.

"But death is only the beginning. And you... you only killed a fragment of me."

He stepped closer.

"The part that feared you."

Another step.

"The part that hesitated."

Another.

"That Goblin King is gone."

Now he was face to face with her.

"And I am reborn."

Gear was—oh fuck yes—absolutely thrilled.

This?

This wasn’t even close to what he imagined when he dragged his green ass here.

Nah, he thought it’d be the usual hero crap.

Sword swings, flashy spells, screaming about justice and friendship or whatever the hell.

But this?

This was like some insane, dramatic-ass theater play. Like the kind of opera where everyone ends up naked, crying, or dead—sometimes all three.

And he was pumped. Like, veins-popping, erection-of-patriotic-loyalty level pumped.

His eyes gleamed like a fanboy on crack.

’This... this guy is my fucking liege. My TRUE liege. No debate. No second thoughts.’

That doubt? Gone.

Evaporated the moment the king opened his sexy, terrifying mouth and started dropping lines like a villain monologue on steroids.

’So. Fucking. Cool!’

This was the man.

The man. The one who made his goblin skin ripple with goosebumps and his tiny green heart go doki-doki like a schoolgirl on her first date.

’He’s not a phony. Not a fake. He’s the real fucking deal.’

Meanwhile—across the stage of chaos—Rae was rapidly backstepping from Celeste’s face like a cartoon character about to get smacked with divine punishment.

’Nope. Nope nope nope. Not getting growled at. Not today. I’ll shit myself. I swear I will.’

And that wasn’t just an exaggeration.

He knew if he pushed her too far, if she snapped and thought, "This has gone too far, better sacrifice myself," then boom—game over.

Rae would be a lonely little soul in the void, holding his nuts and regrets.

’I gotta keep this balanced. Sexy... but not suicidal.’

Not only was Rae going to die in the first goddamn second of a real fight, he was also going to lose everything he had going for him in this messed-up world.

And by everything, he obviously meant—the women. The sweet, curvy, problematic women.

’Hell no. I don’t want that. I want tits and survival. Preferably both.’

He came to a dramatic stop right in front of Gear.

Not to drop some epic monologue or cheesy hero line, but purely because, in this whole apocalyptic shitshow, if anyone could act like a shield or meat wall for him, it was this guy.

’Fuck. Look at him.’

’Sparkly eyes? Are those literal sparkles? He’s in full-on fanboy mode.’

Gear was staring at him like Rae had just dropped down from goblin heaven on a glowing chariot with abs sculpted by gods.

His eyes were crazy. Borderline cult-leader crazy.

’I need to ride this wave. Weaponize this worship. Milk it dry.’

So Rae, with all the swagger of a man who might piss himself any second, gently placed a hand on Gear’s shoulder.

Gear didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe, maybe.

He just kept staring. Unblinking. Intense.

’Oh no. Oh god. He’s not blinking. Stop looking at me like that, you green psycho.’

It was getting uncomfortable now.

Rae wanted to look away. Wanted to pretend he had something very interesting on his shoe.

But then, he said it.

"I see... I chose a suitable successor. Defeating these fools in your first try... that takes guts."

Gear’s eyes began to fill. Not with rage. Not with murder. But with straight-up tears.

’Oh crap. He’s crying.’

This guy...Rae now really has some doubts about this guy...

This guy...

’Is this guy a homo?’