I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“I’m glad to see another woman strong enough to stand against these arrogant Greek kings,” the warrior declared, her voice laced with both amusement and challenge.

Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, grinned as she leveled her sword at Khillea. The blade glinted in the sunlight, its edge razor-sharp and eager for blood.

For a moment, silence blanketed the battlefield as two of the strongest women faced each other, their gazes locked in a contest of wills. The tension was palpable, the air heavy with anticipation. Then, without warning—

BADOOOM!

An earth-shaking explosion of sound erupted as their swords collided. Sparks flew, and a fiery aura ignited around the clashing blades. Penthesilea, her muscles taut and strained, poured every ounce of her strength into her swing. Khillea, in contrast, held her flaming sword firm, her expression unyielding, as if she were merely holding back a storm with effortless grace.

Suddenly, Khillea’s sword roared to life with an intense burst of fire. Flames danced along the blade, forcing Penthesilea to leap back to avoid being consumed. The Amazon queen barely managed to dodge, but Khillea pursued her without hesitation, her weapon blazing like a meteor streaking across the battlefield.

“You are quite fast!” Penthesilea grunted, gritting her teeth as she snatched another sword from the ground to intercept the fiery strike.

BADOOOM!

The impact released an inferno, fire spilling outward like a tidal wave. The sheer heat melted both of Penthesilea’s blades within moments, reducing them to slag. The flames licked at her arms, burning her flesh. Though she extinguished the fire quickly, the pain seared into her body, sharper than she had anticipated.

She winced, her breath ragged, but her resolve did not falter. Penthesilea grabbed two more swords, bracing herself for another round. This time, she called upon her Amazonian magic, a unique spell designed to push her physical limits. Her body began to glow faintly, an aura of pure energy enveloping her. Her movements became faster, sharper, and more precise.

Her aura erupted as she charged, closing the gap between her and Khillea in the blink of an eye. With a roar, Penthesilea swung both swords with incredible speed and force, aiming to overwhelm her opponent.

Khillea barely had time to raise her golden shield, but when the weapons met it, the resulting shockwave was catastrophic. Soldiers and debris were hurled in all directions as the force of their collision rippled across the battlefield.

Penthesilea’s arms screamed in agony, her muscles numb from the sheer power reverberating through her body. She grimaced, staring at the impenetrable golden shield. “What kind of shield is that?” she groaned, her voice laced with disbelief.

Khillea didn’t respond. Instead, she swung her flaming sword again, aiming for a decisive blow. Penthesilea evaded the strike with a deft leap, twisting midair to land behind Khillea. She thrust both swords toward her opponent’s unguarded back with pinpoint precision.

CRACK!

The sound of breaking steel filled the air as both blades shattered on contact with Khillea’s enchanted armor. Penthesilea’s eyes widened in disbelief as fragments of her weapons clattered to the ground.

“This is… unfair…” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration.

BADAAAM!

Khillea responded with a brutal kick, her armored foot slamming into Penthesilea’s chest. The force of the blow sent the Amazon queen hurtling backward, crashing into the ground with bone-jarring impact.

Penthesilea groaned, coughing up blood as pain radiated through her ribs. She felt several of them were fractured, the sharp sting with each breath confirming her suspicion. Lying on the battlefield, her vision blurred, she couldn’t help but admit the truth: Khillea was unlike any opponent she had ever faced.

Her armor was impenetrable. Her sword was forged by gods. And even without these divine gifts, Khillea herself was an indomitable force.

But there was no time to linger on despair. Penthesilea’s instincts screamed at her to move, and she barely managed to roll away as Khillea’s fiery blade came crashing down where she had been lying. The ground where the sword struck erupted in flames, molten rock bubbling in its wake.

Gritting her teeth, Penthesilea forced herself to her feet.

Penthesilea’s body jolted as jagged fragments of flying rocks tore through her armor and flesh, leaving deep gashes that oozed blood. Her once-pristine warrior’s attire was now in tatters, clinging to her like a ghost of its former glory. Pain pulsed through her, but there was no time to falter.

Khillea was relentless. With her sword raised high, she charged like an unyielding tempest.

BADOOM!

The ground trembled beneath Penthesilea’s feet as she narrowly dodged the blow, rolling aside just in time to evade the blade’s devastating arc. Dust and debris exploded into the air, momentarily obscuring her vision. But Khillea was faster—unforgiving. She followed through with brutal precision, slamming her shield into Penthesilea’s midsection.

The force of the impact sent her flying, her body tumbling across the blood-soaked earth like a discarded doll. She landed hard, skidding to a stop amidst broken weapons and lifeless bodies. A sharp, metallic taste filled her mouth as she coughed up blood. Her head spun, and the edges of her vision blurred as her senses struggled to regain focus.

This strength… it’s overwhelming, she thought, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Achilles… no, this is something even greater. How can I hope to stand against her?

“Queen!”

The desperate voices of her Amazons reached her ears, cutting through the haze. Her loyal warriors, clad in crimson-stained armor, surged toward her, shields raised and swords drawn, ready to defend their leader.

But they stood no chance.

Khillea met their charge with the unyielding ferocity of a lioness among lambs. Her sword gleamed with a wicked light as it cleaved through their defenses as if they were made of paper. Blades snapped in two, shields shattered, and bodies fell. The air filled with the sickening sounds of flesh tearing and bones breaking. Severed limbs and lifeless forms scattered the ground, painting the battlefield in a grim mosaic of death.

The proud cries of the Amazons transformed into harrowing screams of agony, echoing across the battlefield.

The Trojans, witnessing the massacre, rallied to their aid. Waves of soldiers—first dozens, then hundreds—poured in to stop Khillea’s rampage. Their spears and swords struck at her from all sides, a desperate storm of steel meant to overwhelm her.

But it was futile.

Khillea’s sword danced with deadly precision, each swing carving through the masses with terrifying ease. No shield could block her, no armor could endure her strength. Men fell before her in droves, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

From afar, commanders of both armies—Greek and Trojan alike—stood in stunned silence. Their mouths hung agape as they watched the lone warrior, a woman, overpower their forces as if they were mere children playing at war.

Penthesilea’s heart burned with grief and fury as she witnessed her Amazons—the sisters who had followed her into countless battles—slaughtered without mercy. Her fists clenched until her nails bit into her palms.

Snatching up a discarded sword, she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the searing pain coursing through her body. With a battle cry that tore through the chaos, she charged toward Khillea, her determination blazing like a fire.

Khillea’s attention snapped toward her just as she vanished in a blur of speed.

Penthesilea barely had time to register the movement before Khillea reappeared beside her, the warrior’s flaming sword poised to strike. The heat of the weapon singed the air, and the deadly arc of the blade glinted with an otherworldly light.

The sword descended.

And then—it stopped.

The battlefield seemed to freeze in place. Khillea’s blade halted mere inches from Penthesilea’s neck, the flames licking at her skin but not burning her. Confusion flickered in the Amazon queen’s eyes as she dared to look up.

Khillea’s gaze was no longer on her. The warrior’s golden eyes, filled with intensity and purpose moments ago, had shifted elsewhere.

Penthesilea followed her line of sight, her breath catching as her eyes landed on a lone figure standing amidst the chaos.

The man had blond hair that shimmered like the sun, though it was matted with sweat and dirt. In his hand, he held a sword that glowed with an eerie, black radiance. There was something magnetic about him, an aura that seemed to demand attention even from a force like Khillea.

Khillea’s grip on her weapon tightened as her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Paris of Troy,” she muttered with icy cold voice that sent shivers to everyone around.

Of course, she knew him—everyone knew him. The prince of Troy, the man who had caused this entire war. And the man who had slain Patroclus, Achilles’ closest companion.

Paris stood there, watching them, his expression unreadable. Yet, beneath his composed facade, there was a clear unease in his eyes.

The ever-confident grin that usually graced Paris’s face was conspicuously absent. His usual air of self-assurance, the smirk that taunted both allies and enemies alike, had been wiped clean.

He could feel it—Khillea’s anger, raw and suffocating. Her presence radiated an inhuman power, a force so overwhelming it made his heart race in sheer terror.

And then there was her gaze.

Khillea’s golden eyes locked onto him, burning with a murderous intensity that pierced straight through his carefully constructed facade.

Paris’s breath hitched as a shiver ran down his spine. He thought he knew fear—he had faced death countless times during this cursed war. Yet this was different. This was a fear that gripped him by the throat and refused to let go.

Until now, there had been only two people in all his life who had ever truly frightened him. The first was Heiron.

And now, there was Khillea.

Paris swallowed hard, instinctively taking a step back. Then another. His movements were slow and cautious, as if any sudden motion might provoke the wrath of the furious warrior before him.

Khillea noticed his retreat.

Without a word, Khillea released her grip on Penthesilea, letting the Amazon queen crumple to the ground. Penthesilea gasped for breath, her body trembling from the aftershock of narrowly escaping death. But Khillea’s attention was no longer on her.

It was on Paris.

In a blur of motion, Khillea surged forward, her flaming sword leaving trails of light in its wake.