I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

They failed.

“Even with every strategy I had devised, every advantage I had painstakingly provided, they could not defeat the Demon King. He was simply too powerful. It wasn’t that my solutions had been flawed—no, they had been sound. But the Demon King had grown far beyond what I had anticipated. Over the years, he had uncovered ways to shield himself, fortifying his defenses against the very Heroes who had once managed to wound him. And when the battle came, they fell. “

I met Khione’s gaze, my expression unreadable. “You saw them die?” I asked, my voice calm yet weighted with the gravity of my inquiry.

Khione nodded, her expression carrying the heavy burden of what she had witnessed. “I saw everything. Their existence—every last fragment of their souls—was swallowed, consumed by the boundless darkness of the Demon King. They were not just killed. They were erased, reduced to nothingness. Every Hero who stood against him, every warrior who dared to challenge him, perished.”

She took a breath, as if steadying herself. “Even those who chose to side with the Demon King were not spared in the end. His hunger knew no allegiance. I searched for those who had disappeared—the ones who fled and never returned—but I found no trace of them. I could only assume they, too, had met their end, cut down in the shadows where no one would ever find them.”

The weight of her words settled in the air between us like a suffocating fog.

“And then,” I said slowly, piecing it together, “twenty years later, you summoned us.”

“Yes,” Khione confirmed. “I managed to gather enough magic, much faster than I had originally anticipated, and so I enacted the ritual for the third summoning of Heroes. This time… things were different.” She paused, her gaze drifting as if recalling the moment. “You awakened faster. You grew stronger at an alarming rate—far surpassing the previous generations of Heroes. Jason and Sienna, in particular, exhibited extraordinary talent right from the first day. Their potential was unlike anything I had seen before. I thought I had found the perfect champions.”

She hesitated, then turned her eyes toward me. “But then you appeared.”

I smirked slightly. Of course, she had never expected me to rise to this level. She had never foreseen me becoming someone dangerous—someone who, in just two years, had climbed beyond the reach of even her expectations.

“Do you regret it?” I asked, my voice laced with amusement as I reached for her, pulling her effortlessly into my arms.

The scent of her divine essence filled my senses as her body pressed against mine. She didn’t resist. She didn’t push me away.

Seated comfortably on my lap, she shook her head, her silver hair cascading like silk over her shoulders.

“If I had seen your potential from the start,” she murmured, her voice quiet yet certain, “our relationship would have never reached this far.”

That much was certain.

If Khione had treated me with the same gentleness and unwavering support that she had given my classmates—the ones blessed with high-ranked skills—I would have never even considered standing against her.

I would have never sought to steal her Forbidden Skill.

I would have never dared to use it against her.

I would have never enslaved her.

I would have never been summoned to the Tenebria Kingdom.

I would have never become entangled in the Trojan War.

And everything that followed—every battle, every conquest, every path that had led me here—would have never happened.

I would not have reached this far.

I would not have become this strong.

But none of that mattered now. There was no regret between us.

Everything that had unfolded—the betrayals, the victories, the struggles—had been necessary for us to arrive at this point. Every decision, every consequence, every action had shaped me into what I was today. And as I sat here with Khione in my arms, her divine presence pressed against me, I realized something undeniable.

I was content.

I had no complaints about the situation I found myself in with her. No doubts. No second thoughts.

A faint shift in the air caught my attention as Khione’s voice broke the silence.

“Are you sure he is a Hero?” she asked, her tone carrying a rare trace of skepticism.

She already knew of the rumored Hero’s appearance in Breistan, but unlike me, she wasn’t convinced. Not yet. She needed proof—solid, irrefutable proof—before she would acknowledge it as fact.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But either way, I have to be sure. If you saw him, do you think you’d be able to recognize him?”

It had been twenty years since she had last laid eyes on the second wave of summoned Heroes. Time could change a person in ways both subtle and profound. Perhaps she would remember him… or perhaps he would be a stranger to her now.

Khione narrowed her eyes slightly, lost in thought. “I think I can,” she said at last. “But if he appears again, don’t let him slip away. Capture him. I have questions of my own.”

Her reaction was understandable. Until now, she had believed that every last Hero from the second summoning had been wiped from existence. And yet, here we were—faced with the sudden emergence of a Hero after all these years.

“He might be one of the Heroes you lost track of after they abandoned the Empire,” I suggested, voicing the most plausible theory.

During the second summoning, not all Heroes had remained loyal to the Empire of Light. Some had chosen another path—one of defiance, rebellion, and self-interest. They had turned their backs on the Empire, rejecting its rule, and disappeared into the unknown. Some left the continent entirely, seeking their own purpose beyond the confines of their so-called destiny.

Twenty years had passed since then.

Could it be that one of them had survived all this time… and for some reason, decided to return?

Khione’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if the weight of her thoughts pressed heavily on her tongue. “This is my thought as well,” she said, her icy blue eyes narrowing in contemplation. “But I don’t understand why he would come back out of nowhere. After all this time, after everything… it doesn’t make sense.”

I leaned back against the cold stone wall, the chill seeping through my tunic, grounding me in the moment. “I think he came back because he needs help,” I replied, my voice steady but laced with suspicion. “Desperation has a way of driving even the most prideful men to their knees. And the way he’s clawing at the city—it reeks of someone who’s lost everything and is willing to do anything to reclaim it.”

Khione tilted her head, her white hair cascading over her shoulder like a waterfall under moonlight. “Possible,” she murmured, her lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Her agreement was quiet, but it carried the weight of her sharp intuition.

“We’ll see,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll look into it tomorrow. For now, you should go back to Nivea. She shouldn’t wake up alone.” My voice softened as I spoke of my daughter, a pang of guilt tightening in my chest. Though I couldn’t always be the father I wanted to be—present, flawless, unwavering—I refused to let my children feel the sting of loneliness. They deserved more than that.

Khione’s gaze lingered on me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she surprised me. “I still have enough time for a small service, if you wish,” she said, her voice low and smooth, like the caress of a winter breeze. Before I could respond, her hand moved with deliberate grace, her pale fingers brushing against the growing tension in my trousers.

Her touch was electric, sending a shiver up my spine as her hand settled over my hardening length. I exhaled sharply, my breath catching in my throat as she began to stroke me through the fabric, her movements slow and deliberate. “If you want it so much,” I said, my voice rough with desire, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.

Khione didn’t need further encouragement. She sank to her knees before me, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if she were performing a sacred ritual. Her slender fingers hooked into the waistband of my pants, pulling them down just enough to free my cock, which sprang to attention, already throbbing with anticipation.

Her hand wrapped around me, soft yet firm, and she began to stroke me in earnest. Each movement was precise, perfectly timed, as if she had memorized every inch of me. And perhaps she had—this wasn’t the first time she’d done this, after all. Khione was nothing if not meticulous, and her expertise was evident in the way her fingers danced along my shaft, teasing and tantalizing.

“Sluuurp!”

The sound of her lips meeting my flesh sent a jolt of pleasure through me. Her mouth was warm and wet, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. She kissed the tip of my cock gently, almost reverently, before her tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the length of me. Her breath was hot against my skin, and I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting to maintain control.

When her tongue reached the base of my shaft, she paused, her eyes flicking up to meet mine for the briefest of moments before she turned her attention to my balls. Her tongue darted out again, this time to lick and tease the sensitive skin there, her movements slow and deliberate. I bit back a groan, my hips twitching involuntarily as she worked her magic.

By the time she pulled back, my dick was fully erect, standing tall and proud before her. A bead of precum glistened at the tip, and Khione didn’t hesitate. Her tongue darted out again, capturing the droplet with a soft, almost obscene sound.

“Sluuuup~~”

I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing gently against her skin as she parted her lips and took me into the warm, wet haven of her mouth. The sensation was exquisite, a dance of pleasure and surrender that left me breathless and yearning for more.