I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Hera was livid. Her divine essence seethed with an incandescent fury that threatened to shake the very foundations of Olympus itself. The unthinkable had happened—the Greeks had lost the Trojan War.

It felt like a waking nightmare, a cruel jest woven by the Fates themselves. How could such a thing be possible? The Greeks had been the stronger force, their army vast and composed of the finest warriors to ever walk the earth. More than that, they had been led by the greatest of their kind—mighty kings and warriors who had carved their names into history with blood and steel.

Agamemnon, the High King, had been slain. Menelaus, who had sought vengeance for his stolen wife, lay dead. Ajax, the indomitable warrior, had fallen. Even Heracles, the son of Zeus himself, had perished. It was inconceivable.

By all logic, by all divine decree, the Greeks should have triumphed. Their superiority was undeniable. Even the gods themselves had tipped the scales in their favor. Hera herself, alongside Athena—the goddess of wisdom and victory—had stood unwaveringly behind the Greeks. And yet, it had not been enough. Despite their backing, despite their meticulous interference, the Greeks had been utterly and irrevocably defeated.

The final blow to her expectations, the ultimate betrayal of fate, had come from Achilles. He had been her trump card, the lynchpin of her grand design. Yet, in a turn of events that defied all reason, he had changed sides. The mighty Achilles had abandoned the Greeks, lured away by love, and had even fathered a child. It was incomprehensible. It was infuriating.

Everything had been set in place for a Greek victory. The Trojans had been vastly outmatched—only Hector, their noble prince, and the Amazonian queen Penthesilea had been worth mentioning. And yet, against all odds, against every law of destiny, Troy had emerged victorious. Both Hector and Penthesilea still lived, standing triumphant amidst the ruins of what should have been their downfall.

But Hera knew—this unnatural shift in fate had a cause. A single man had tipped the balance of history, reshaping the very fabric of the war itself.

His name was Heiron, but he was known as the Hero of Darkness.

Or, as Hera now understood with bitter clarity, his true name—Nathan Parker.

A man who should not exist.

He had once been summoned by the Light Emperor, a chosen hero, only to be struck down and slaughtered by the accursed Liphiel. He should have remained dead. And yet, defying death itself, he had returned. Not once, but twice.

And this time, he had turned the tide of war.

Nathan Parker—Heiron, Samael, the accursed Hero of Darkness—had slain Ajax. He had slain Heracles. And in the final, crushing moment of victory, he had cut down Agamemnon himself.

The Greeks had never stood a chance.

Hera trembled with rage. She had tried—oh, how she had tried—to rid the world of him. Time and time again, she had reached out with her divine might to end him before he could reshape destiny. She had sent assassins, conjured plagues, whispered omens of doom to those who could act against him. And yet, every time, her efforts had been thwarted.

Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Ares—those meddling gods—had shielded him at every turn, countering her every move, ensuring his survival.

And now, it was too late.

Nathan Parker had won.

And the last look he had given her before vanishing from the battlefield… it had been a promise. A silent, chilling promise.

A promise of vengeance.

Hera clenched her fists, her divine nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw golden ichor.

Nathan Parker was dangerous.

And he was coming for her.

Hera did not know when, nor did she know how. But she was certain of one thing—he would come. The look he had given her after Troy’s fall had been more than enough to make her uneasy. It was not the glare of a mere mortal who despised a goddess. No, it was something far worse. It was the look of a man who had already decided her fate.

She had witnessed ambition, hatred, and revenge countless times over the centuries, but never before had she felt such an ominous foreboding. Nathan was progressing at an alarming rate, far faster than anyone should. His strength, his influence, his very existence were growing into something monstrous, something unnatural.

At the rate he was advancing, there would come a time when even she—Hera, Queen of the Gods—would not be able to touch him. And that was unacceptable.

That was why she had made up her mind.

He had to die.

The Trojan War was over, which meant Apollo, Artemis, and the others who had protected him would no longer interfere. Their interests had been tied to the war, but now that it was settled, Nathan was nothing more than a loose end—a powerful, unpredictable anomaly that needed to be erased before he became untouchable.

And now, she had her chance.

Hera’s opportunity came the moment Hermes informed her that Nathan had left Troy and was traveling to Lyrnessus. She did not hesitate. Summoning the mighty sea god, she called upon Poseidon himself.

She needed no elaborate persuasion—Poseidon was already eager to act.

Nathan had used Khione’s power during the war, unleashing its full force on the battlefield. That had not gone unnoticed. The moment he had done so, Poseidon had sensed her presence. Had it not been for Zeus’s command forbidding him from interfering in the war, Poseidon would have struck Nathan down then and there.

But now, Zeus was no longer holding him back.

Now, Poseidon was free.

And he had no intention of letting this insult go unanswered.

Nathan Parker, a mere mortal—a man—had a connection to his Khione. The very thought of it was enough to make Poseidon seethe with rage. A mortal wielding the power of the goddess of snow and frost? It was an affront. An impossibility. Something that should not exist.

If not for Zeus’s decree, he would have drowned all of Troy in a towering wave of divine fury. But now, patience had rewarded him. The opportunity had come.

Hera and Poseidon descended from the heavens, their divine forms shimmering as they stepped onto the mortal plane. They hovered above the city of Lyrnessus, looking down at their prey.

Poseidon turned his gaze to Hera, his deep blue eyes filled with anticipation. “Zeus… what of him?” he asked, wary of his brother’s watchful gaze.

Hera’s expression darkened, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Do not concern yourself with him,” she said coldly.

With a snap of her fingers, a shimmering veil of divine energy rippled outward, engulfing the entire city below. A barrier—one crafted from her own divine authority.

“He will not see anything that happens here,” she continued, her voice dripping with confidence.

Poseidon grinned. “Good. Just to be sure…”

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers as well, layering his own divine barrier over hers. The twin divine seals pulsed, entwining and solidifying into an impenetrable shroud.

Even Zeus himself would not be able to see through it—not unless he came down to Lyrnessus in person. And why would he? The city was insignificant. There was no reason for him to interfere.

They were free to do as they pleased.

Poseidon crossed his arms and looked at Hera expectantly. “Are you certain he’s here?”

Hera smirked.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes gleaming with malice.

“Look.”

Poseidon followed Hera’s gaze, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto the lone figure emerging from the grand halls of Lyrnessus.

It was him.

Nathan Parker.

The mortal walked with an air of quiet confidence, his every step unhurried, oblivious to the divine eyes that watched from above. There was no sign of tension in his posture, no flicker of awareness that he was being hunted. He was simply… walking.

Poseidon tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. “What is he doing here alone?” he mused aloud.

Hera scoffed beside him, folding her arms across her chest. “Who cares?” she snapped. “Just get the information you want and kill him afterward.”

Poseidon smirked. He had no objections to that.

In an instant, his divine presence flared, and he vanished from the sky. A heartbeat later, he reappeared directly in front of Nathan, blocking his path.

The earth trembled beneath him as he tapped the end of his golden trident against the ground, sending a wave of power rippling through the stone. Dust and debris scattered at the force, but the mortal before him did not flinch.

Nathan merely stopped in his tracks, his cold silver eyes locking onto Poseidon’s with unnerving calmness.

The god of the sea grinned, tilting his head as he took in the sight of the man who had defied fate itself. “You have been quite busy, haven’t you?” Poseidon mused, amusement dripping from his voice. “Dying… getting reborn by some unknown force… and then killing Agamemnon. But tell me—” He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Did you really think you could get away scot-free after drawing the attention of so many gods?”

The ground beneath them rumbled as he pressed his trident against the earth once more, cracks splitting outward like veins of destruction. Yet despite the show of power, Nathan remained eerily composed.

“Are you here to kill me?” the mortal asked, his voice level, unreadable. “Both of you?”

Poseidon chuckled darkly. “Oh?” He glanced up at Hera, who still hovered above, watching with cold, detached satisfaction. “No, only Hera wants you dead.” His smirk grew. “I only want information about my dear Khione.”

A lie.

Nathan could tell instantly.

The way Poseidon’s eyes gleamed with malice, the way his fingers tightened around the shaft of his trident ever so slightly—it was obvious. Even if he handed over the information, Poseidon would not let him leave this place alive.

Nathan had already been sentenced.

The god of the sea was merely waiting to pass judgment.

Nathan’s lips curled slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Does Zeus know that the two of you are here?” he asked next.

Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, his voice deep and resounding like the crashing of waves against an unshaken cliff. “Kahaha! You’re hoping for my brother to save you? How foolish.” His laughter faded into a low, predatory chuckle. “No. Zeus won’t be coming. He doesn’t even know where we are. No one does.”

His smile turned cold. “So you’d best start talking.”

But then—

Nathan’s smirk deepened.

He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his demonic gold eyes.

“No one knows you said?”