I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The distance between them felt electric, tense. Courtney steadied her breath, her gaze more serious, more resolute. She knew she was up against a strong adversary—one whose power seemed to be much stronger than hers.

As she landed, her gaze met Nathan’s, and a strange feeling churned in her chest. There was something about the way he reached out to her… something that made her feel uneasy, a faint, unshakable discomfort that lingered like a ghostly whisper in the back of her mind.

“Courtney! You can’t beat him! Let’s retreat!” Siara’s voice rang out, laced with desperation and worry. Her trembling hands clenched tightly around the weapon she held, her wide eyes darting between the battlefield and Courtney’s figure. The memory of Gwen’s defeat was still fresh.

But Courtney didn’t acknowledge her. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, resolute and unshaken, as if Siara’s pleas were mere whispers carried off by the wind.

“Eighth Rank Fire Magic,” Courtney muttered, her tone low but steady, filled with an unrelenting determination. She raised her hand, and a searing wave of mana exploded outward like an unleashed storm.

The earth beneath them trembled, cracks spider-webbing across the scorched ground as flames erupted from the fissures. The air grew stifling, the weight of her power suffocating to those nearby. Every fight around her ceased as heads turned toward the source of the overwhelming pressure. Warriors and enemies alike froze, their faces a mixture of awe and dread.

Nathan, standing on the opposite side of the battlefield, felt a flicker of surprise ripple through him. His pale eyes narrowed as he watched her, feeling the heat of her magic even from this distance.

“Eighth Rank magic…” he mused, a rare smile touching his lips. “You’ve really come a long way, Courtney.”

A flood of memories washed over him—memories of the timid, cheerful girl he once knew. Aisha had told him about Courtney’s transformation after his disappearance. He understood that her change was born from pain, from the aftermath of his own suffering.

Though he didn’t want to see her push herself to the brink, there was a bittersweet pride in seeing how strong, how fiercely independent she had become.

In this world, naivety was a weakness—a poison that could be fatal. Nathan knew that better than anyone. Even without being naive, he had barely clung to life in his most desperate moments.

The air around Courtney shimmered as a colossal figure of flames roared into existence behind her. The creature, a towering fire elemental, radiated an intense heat that made the battlefield feel like an inferno. Its fiery gaze locked onto Nathan, its presence a declaration of Courtney’s resolve.

Nathan watched, his expression unreadable, though there was a glimmer of admiration in his pale eyes. He had never seen her like this before, her features sharpened with an intensity he never imagined. She was beautiful in her defiance, her strength illuminating her like the flames she commanded.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Nathan raised his hand, his movements calm and measured, and the world seemed to shift. A chill unlike anything felt before descended upon the battlefield, spreading out in waves. The fiery glow of Courtney’s magic dimmed slightly as frost began to creep across the ground.

Even Courtney shivered, her breath hitching as an icy sensation prickled her skin. Her lips parted in shock—she hadn’t expected to feel cold, not within the heart of her own flames.

“Celestial Magic,” Nathan intoned, his voice cutting through the chaos like the edge of a blade.

Sensing the threat, Courtney didn’t hesitate. She thrust her hand forward, commanding her monstrous elemental to lunge at Nathan, its fiery form blazing with ferocious energy. But Nathan was faster.

He lowered his hand.

A deafening crack echoed across the battlefield as a wave of frost surged outward, meeting the fire elemental head-on. The clash sent a shockwave rippling through the air, but the outcome was clear within moments.

The fire creature let out an otherworldly roar as its body froze, flames extinguished and encased in thick, crystalline ice. The frost spread rapidly, consuming everything in its path until it reached Courtney herself.

“Courtney!!!” Siara’s scream pierced the silence as she watched her friend become engulfed by the freezing wave.

Courtney acted quickly, summoning a protective barrier of flames around her, but the cold was relentless. Ice crawled over her defenses, and despite her efforts, frost reached her skin. She gritted her teeth as the biting cold seeped into her very core, slowing her movements and stealing her breath.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the faint crackling of ice and the distant rustle of wind.

Then, slowly, heat began to radiate from Courtney’s frozen form. The ice around her started to melt, water trickling down in small rivulets as her flames reignited. The air grew hot again, her fiery aura pushing back against the oppressive cold.

Nathan didn’t move to stop her. He had already held back from delivering a fatal blow, his intent clear but restrained.

Courtney dropped to one knee, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her hands trembled, her body wracked with the aftereffects of the cold that still clung to her like a ghost.

“Courtney…” Siara whispered, her voice trembling with concern as she rushed toward her.

Courtney staggered, her legs trembling as she tried to push herself back to her feet. Her fiery resolve flickered like a dying ember, but she wasn’t ready to back down yet. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her fists, preparing to summon another burst of magic.

Before she could, Siara darted to her side, grabbing her arm with both hands. Her grip was firm, almost desperate.

“Enough! You’re going to die!” Siara shouted, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

Courtney froze, startled by the uncharacteristic outburst. Siara rarely raised her voice, let alone with such intensity. Her sharp gaze softened as she took in Siara’s pleading expression, her wide eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Please…” Siara whispered, her voice breaking.

Courtney hesitated, her fiery determination wavering. Slowly, she bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground. Her body sagged as the tension drained from her shoulders. Without another word, she nodded and began to retreat, leaning slightly on Siara for support.

From a distance, Nathan exhaled a sigh of relief. The cold edge of worry that had crept into his chest began to ease as he watched Courtney step back.

“She’s strong now,” he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But too reckless for her own good.”

However, the reprieve was short-lived.

In the blink of an eye, a massive figure materialized in front of him. Nathan barely had time to register the movement before he was staring down the barrel of a giant fist, its size enough to eclipse his vision.

BADAAM!

The impact was instantaneous and brutal. Nathan barely managed to raise his arm to shield his face, but the force of the blow reverberated through his entire body.

“Gurgh!” A sharp cry escaped his lips as he felt the bones in his arm crack under the tremendous pressure. The sheer force of the punch sent him hurtling backward like a ragdoll, smashing into the chaotic fray of fighters behind him. The unlucky combatants caught in his path were thrown aside like leaves in a storm, collapsing to the ground as the shockwave rippled through them.

When he finally skidded to a stop, Nathan winced, cradling his arm as pain radiated through it. His usually composed expression darkened, his icy gaze turning colder than ever.

It had been a long time since he’d felt pain like this—a sharp, bone-deep ache that reminded him he was still human.

Slowly, Nathan pushed himself to his feet, his movements deliberate and measured. His fingers flexed experimentally, testing the damage to his arm. It was numb, but functional.

He looked up to see his attacker step forward, the ground trembling under the weight of his heavy stride.

“You’re the one who killed my stupid brother?” the towering figure growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the air itself.

The man—no, the beast—was unmistakable.

Ajax the Great.

Nathan tilted his head, taking in the sight of the man who loomed over him like a mountain. Ajax was massive, his muscular frame towering several heads above Nathan. His broad shoulders and bulging arms made Nathan look almost childlike in comparison.

But size didn’t intimidate Nathan.

Instead of answering Ajax’s question, Nathan’s lips curved into a slow, taunting smirk. His pale eyes gleamed with a cold fury, a deep hatred that had been festering for far too long.

This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Since that cursed day when Ajax’s brother had dared to lay a hand on Aisha.

No one touches his women. No one.

Nathan’s fists clenched as the memory burned in his mind. Aisha’s expression when she was being forced. His hatred boiled over, his restrained anger finally spilling out.

Today he will finally make him pay.

Before he could make his move, a shout rang out from the chaos.

“Heiron!”

Nathan turned slightly to see Hector rushing toward him, his face pale with worry. The knight had clearly just finished his fight, his armor scuffed and dented, but his focus was entirely on Nathan.

Trailing behind him, Nathan caught a glimpse of Aidan lying slumped on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The fight between Aidan and Hector had been brutal, but it seemed Hector had come out on top which was obvious.

Despite his injuries, Aidan was still breathing. Nathan noticed that some of his classmates were already dragging the unconscious boy away to safety.

But Hector’s concern wasn’t for Aidan. It was for Nathan.

“It’s Ajax the Great,” Hector said, his voice low but urgent as he reached Nathan’s side.

Hector’s brows knitted together, his usual calm demeanor overshadowed by a rare flicker of genuine concern. He had seen what Heiron was capable of over the past few months—his strength, his strategy, and abilities in the face of danger. But Ajax was a different beast altogether.

The man wasn’t just a fighter; he was a legend on the battlefield, a mountain of brute force and unrelenting power. Hector couldn’t help but doubt whether even Heiron, formidable as he was, stood a chance against such an opponent.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nathan said, his voice breaking through Hector’s thoughts. He took a step forward, his pale eyes meeting Hector’s gaze. His expression was serious—more serious than Hector had ever seen before.

“Leave him to me. I’m asking you,” Nathan continued, his tone steady and resolute. There was no hesitation in his voice, no trace of the casual confidence he often displayed. This was different. This was personal.

Hector blinked, momentarily taken aback. Nathan rarely made requests, and when he did, they carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.

As if sensing the lingering doubt in Hector’s mind, Nathan’s lips curled into a confident smirk, his icy demeanor softening just enough to show a flicker of assurance. “I’ll definitely win. Don’t worry.”