I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“By the way,” he said, his voice carefully measured, “he called himself a Hero of the Empire of Light.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Kratos continued. “He also claimed to be part of the Second Batch of Summoning.”

As soon as the words left Kratos’s lips, Nathan rose to his feet without hesitation. His movements were swift, purposeful—there was no need for deliberation.

“Lord Commander?” Semiramis’s voice carried a note of confusion as she turned to face him, her golden eyes searching his for answers.

“I’m leaving immediately,” Nathan declared, already heading for the door.

Semiramis’s expression hardened. “Should I prepare an escort? A contingent of soldiers, at least?”

Nathan shook his head dismissively. “No need. You all stay here. I’m only going to investigate.”

Her brows furrowed. “But it could be dangerous…” she murmured, reluctance evident in her voice.

A fleeting smirk touched Nathan’s lips. “I won’t be alone. Don’t worry.”

Without another word, he strode down the hall, his presence commanding as he made his way toward the castle’s grand balcony. The morning sky stretched before him.

Then, without hesitation, he leaped onto the sloped rooftops, his form moving with effortless grace.

There was no need for preparation. No need for delay. His instincts screamed at him to go now.

A Hero of the Empire of Light.

Yet Kratos had spoken of a Second Batch of Summonings.

That detail gnawed at Nathan’s mind. Khione had told him that he and the others were part of the third batch. The first and second batches had been wiped out—either slaughtered or vanished without a trace.

Those who disappeared were never found. That was the key difference.

And yet—suddenly—one of them had reappeared.

And not just anywhere.

In the Demon Kingdom.

Why?

Had he been captured? Was he a prisoner? Or had he come of his own volition?

Was he alone?

A storm of unanswered questions brewed in Nathan’s mind, each one demanding an answer. His curiosity burned hotter than ever.

Standing atop the roof, Nathan’s white hair gleamed under the moonlight as he turned his gaze to the horizon. Then, with a single word, he summoned his most trusted beast.

“Drakkias.”

A mighty roar split the night air. From the distant sky, a vast shadow surged forth, its golden scales shimmering like molten sunlight. The force of its wings sent powerful gusts of wind swirling through the castle grounds below.

Drakkias descended in a blur of golden light, landing with a thunderous impact upon the rooftop, its talons gripping the stone with ease. The dragon’s piercing eyes met Nathan’s, awaiting his command.

Nathan wasted no time. He vaulted onto Drakkias’s back, the massive beast shifting slightly beneath his weight. But before taking flight, he spoke another name.

“Scylla.”

For a brief moment, silence reigned. Then, in the blink of an eye, she appeared.

A blur of movement—a flicker of shadow—and then a woman landed gracefully beside him, her every motion fluid, predatory.

“You called for me, Nate~~”

Her voice was honeyed, laced with teasing warmth.

Scylla was a vision of dangerous beauty. Her long, silken sea green hair cascaded past her shoulders, swaying gently with the breeze. Her eyes—slit-red, piercing, and inhumanly intense—held a glint of hunger, a gaze that threatened to consume him whole.

Two sharp, obsidian-black horns jutted elegantly from the sides of her head, a mark of her infernal heritage.

Compared to Medea and Charybdis, Scylla’s allure was different. Where Medea’s charm was darkly enigmatic and Charybdis’s presence exuded unshakable calm dominance, Scylla’s beauty was something else entirely—a seduction wrapped in lethal grace.

And then there was her hunger.

For him.

Nathan could feel it, see it in the way she looked at him—like a predator who had spent months resisting the urge to sink her teeth into its prey.

She had learned to control herself, to restrain that bottomless thirst. But even now, even as she stood still beside him, he could sense the unspoken desire simmering beneath her composed exterior.

Nathan’s gaze, however, drifted beyond Scylla, his sharp eyes locking onto two unseen figures lurking in the shadows.

To any ordinary observer, there would appear to be nothing but empty space behind Scylla. However, Nathan was no ordinary observer.

His Eye of Odin and Vision of Artemis allowed him to perceive even the most intricate and advanced illusions, piercing through layers of magic with ease. Even spells woven by Medea herself—a woman hailed as one of the greatest sorceresses in existence—were nothing but fragile veils before his sight.

And right now, he saw them.

Two women stood concealed in the darkness, hidden behind spells so formidable that even the most seasoned mages would never suspect their presence.

A moment of silence passed.

Then, as if realizing that her deception had been uncovered, Medea let out a soft, displeased sigh and canceled her magic.

The illusion shattered.

Medea emerged first, stepping into the moonlight with a faint scowl. Her heterochromic red and green eyes, cold and piercing, held a hint of annoyance. Beside her, Charybdis followed suit, arms crossed over her chest, her golden locks cascading over her shoulders in waves.

Both women stood there, their gazes fixed upon him.

Medea’s expression was particularly sharp, her displeasure evident as she spoke.

“Why didn’t you call us too?” she asked, her tone devoid of warmth.

Nathan met her gaze, unfazed. “Because I only needed one of you.”

Medea’s eyes narrowed. “Then why not me? Or Charybdis? Why is it always her?”

Her words carried an unmistakable bite as she tilted her chin toward Scylla.

A smirk curled at Scylla’s lips. “Again with the jealousy, Medea?” she mused, tilting her head to the side in amusement.

Medea’s hands clenched into tight fists.

A cold, ominous pressure filled the air.

Dark mana swirled violently around her, crackling with barely restrained power. The sheer magnitude of her presence was suffocating, the night around them seemingly growing darker in response.

Even Drakkias, a beast of legendary might, trembled slightly, its wings flaring in unease.

Nathan sighed.

“Medea.”

His voice, firm yet calm, cut through the tension like a blade.

Medea flinched, her anger momentarily tempered as her eyes flickered toward him.

“I need you here,” Nathan said simply. “You are the greatest sorceress I know. If any kind of problem arises, you’ll be the one who can handle it best.”

His words carried weight—not just as a leader, but as someone who genuinely trusted her above all others when it came to magic.

Medea’s dark aura wavered slightly.

He meant what he said.

Nathan didn’t trust easily, but when he did, it was absolute. Medea was unparalleled in large-scale magic, and in unpredictable situations, she was the most reliable person to have on his side.

More than that, if something—or someone—attempted to infiltrate the castle, even if betrayal lurked within their own ranks, Medea would ensure that no harm befell any of his women.

She would protect them all.

Medea stared at him for a long moment.

Then, slowly, her fists relaxed, the oppressive mana around her dissipating like mist.

“Understood,” she said at last. Though she feigned reluctance, there was a flicker of something else in her gaze—satisfaction.

Nathan had acknowledged her importance. He saw her.

And that alone was enough.

Before the tension could fully settle, another voice chimed in, hopeful yet hesitant.

“What about me?”

Nathan turned to Charybdis, who looked at him expectantly. “Can I come?”

Her voice was light, but there was genuine eagerness behind it. Unlike Medea, who masked her emotions beneath layers of cold composure, Charybdis wore hers plainly.

Nathan, however, shook his head.

“Stay with Medea.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her features, but Nathan’s next words carried a deeper implication.

“Keep an eye on her.”

Charybdis blinked before realization dawned on her.

If he left Scylla behind, the infighting would only escalate. Medea and Scylla were the absolute worst at maintaining their composure when it came to him. Left unchecked, things could spiral out of control far too quickly.

By having Charybdis stay, Nathan ensured that Medea wouldn’t take things too far.

Charybdis let out a small sigh but nodded. “Alright, I get it,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Though she wasn’t entirely happy about it, she understood.

Nathan gave her a small nod in return before turning back toward Drakkias. The night was wasting away.

It was time to move.

With a final glance at the castle below, Nathan and Scylla took to the skies, leaving the others behind as they disappeared into the sky.

As Nathan and Scylla ascended into the night sky, Scylla waved playfully at Medea and Charybdis below.

Her gesture, at first glance, seemed teasing—perhaps even a touch smug—but beneath the surface, there was no real malice.

Despite the rivalry, the jealousy, and the constant bickering over Nathan’s attention, the three women shared an unbreakable bond.

They had long since passed the point of being mere allies or even friends. They were family.

Medea, the eldest, and without doubts the most dangerous and uncontrollable.

Scylla, the second, was bold and reckless, indulging in her whims and pushing boundaries with little concern for consequence. She had an innate ability to both irritate and charm in equal measure.

And then there was Charybdis, the youngest, often treated as such. Though she was powerful in her own right, her occasional hesitance and softer disposition made the other two naturally more protective of her. She was the only one never to rarely speaking against Nathan’s orders, obeying him.

Three Sisters—not by blood, but by twisted love for Nathan.

Medea scoffed at Scylla’s playful wave but didn’t turn away until Nathan and Scylla had fully disappeared into the night. Charybdis, standing beside her also looked at them.

Up above, the wind howled as Drakkias soared forward, cutting through the darkness with immense speed.

Wrapped in the cold night air, Scylla leaned in close, her breath warm against Nathan’s ear.

“Where are we going, Nathan?” she purred, her voice low and sensuous, her arms slipping around his waist in a slow, lingering embrace.

Nathan’s smirk deepened.

“Breistan. To hunt a Hero.”