I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“We have received a group of envoys!” the soldier reported breathlessly. “They claim to be allies of Queen Cleopatra!”

Pompey and everyone inside the tent widened their eyes in surprise at the mention of Cleopatra.

They were all well aware of the woman whose beauty was spoken of in legends, rumored to be so extraordinary that some even considered her divine. She had been chosen by her father as the rightful heir to the throne of the Amun-Ra Empire, set to become the next Pharaoh. However, that destiny had been cruelly stolen from her—stripped away by her own brother and the powerful forces manipulating him from behind the scenes.

After her forced exile from Alexandria, rumors had swirled of her preparations for an assault to reclaim her throne and her birthright. Yet, few had taken these whispers seriously, dismissing them as the desperate fantasies of a dethroned queen.

“Let them in,” Pompey ordered without hesitation, his interest now fully piqued.

If Cleopatra’s allies had come this far seeking him out, it was certainly not for a mere courtesy visit.

Minutes later, the entrance to the tent parted, and several figures stepped inside. At their forefront stood a man of refined bearing, his confident expression carrying an air of diplomacy and purpose.

“I greet you, Emperor Pompey. Allow me to introduce myself,” the man spoke smoothly, offering a respectful nod. “I am Apollodorus, Cleopatra’s close advisor.”

Pompey’s gaze remained sharp as he studied the man before him. “Cleopatra’s advisor? I wonder why you have come all this way,” he asked, though he already had his suspicions.

Apollodorus smiled knowingly. “We find ourselves in a precarious situation, Emperor. Both you and my Queen, the rightful Pharaoh of the Amun-Ra Empire, have been betrayed by your own lands—cast aside despite all that you have done for them.”

His words struck a chord. And he wasn’t wrong.

Their situations bore undeniable similarities.

“My Queen has sent me to propose an alliance,” Apollodorus finally declared, his voice steady and assured.

Pompey leaned forward slightly, his interest deepening. “An alliance, you say? Interesting. But tell me—what do I stand to gain from such an arrangement?”

If Cleopatra sought his aid, he needed to know precisely what kind of support she could offer in return.

Apollodorus, clearly anticipating the question, maintained his composed smile. “Emperor, you may not yet be fully aware, as you have not been closely involved with the affairs of the Amun-Ra Empire, but let me tell you this—Cleopatra has always been the ruler the people wanted. Even now, though her brother sits upon the throne, the people do not accept him. They have never truly recognized his rule.”

Pompey stood tall, his expression stern as he wasted no time in addressing the matter at hand. “How many men do you have?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of a seasoned general accustomed to war.

Apollodorus, standing with unwavering confidence, met his gaze without hesitation. “Two thousand,” he answered simply.

The response was met with derisive laughter from Pompey’s men. Their amusement echoed through the chamber, their scorn evident. To them, an army of merely two thousand seemed laughable, insignificant against the might of a true military force.

“Two thousand?” Pompey repeated, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Apollodorus, unfazed by their mockery, allowed a small smile to play at the corners of his lips. “Yes, for now, we only have two thousand because my Queen is being hunted. However, if we succeed in reclaiming Alexandria and restoring Queen Cleopatra to her rightful throne, she will regain full control over the Amun Ra Empire. That includes its vast military forces, all of which will once again be under her command.”

Pompey crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “So, you are asking me to attack Alexandria?” There was no emotion in his voice, only calculated inquiry.

“Yes,” Apollodorus affirmed without hesitation. “This alliance will benefit us both.”

Pompey tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “And what do I gain in return?” His voice carried the sharpness of a man who had spent his life making political calculations.

Apollodorus did not waver. “Once Queen Cleopatra is reinstated as ruler of the Amun Ra Empire, she will pledge her army to your cause. With her forces at your disposal, you will have the strength to challenge Julius Caesar, reclaim your former power, and reassert your position within the Roman Empire.”

Pompey fell silent, the weight of the offer settling over him.

It was exactly what he desired—an opportunity to bring down that arrogant usurper, Caesar, and reclaim the authority that had been unjustly stripped from him. It was an enticing proposal, one that promised both vengeance and restoration. And yet, there were risks to consider.

His eyes darkened with suspicion as he fixed Apollodorus with a penetrating stare. “How can I trust your Queen?” he asked, his voice laced with doubt. “She does not even have the courage to stand before me and present her own plan. Why should I put my faith in her?”

Pompey had every reason to be wary. Cleopatra was a woman of ambition and intelligence, but could she be trusted? What if she turned against him the moment she had her throne back? Would she truly risk war with Rome for his sake? The consequences of misplaced trust could be catastrophic.

Apollodorus, rather than appearing offended, smiled as if he had anticipated this very question. “That is precisely why my Queen has proposed something more binding—a sacred alliance through marriage.”

His words sent a shockwave through the chamber.

“Marriage?” Pompey repeated, taken aback. His men, who had been so quick to scoff earlier, now exchanged stunned glances. The room, once filled with laughter, was now heavy with stunned silence.

“Yes,” Apollodorus continued smoothly. “You will become the husband of the Pharaoh of the Amun Ra Empire. Such a union would solidify your position and force the Roman Empire to reconsider their stance on your exile.”

The implications were clear. If Pompey, once a revered Roman general, suddenly became the consort of Egypt’s ruler, Rome would be compelled to rethink its decision. The political influence he would gain from such a marriage would make him too valuable to remain banished.

Pompey did not respond immediately. He knew that this was not just a simple proposal of war—it was a bid for power, a strategic move that could reshape his entire fate.

Pompey remained silent for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against his arm as he pondered the proposition. Then, a smirk curved his lips.

“Your Queen is indeed as intelligent as I have heard,” he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of admiration.

Apollodorus nodded, his smile unwavering. “Every rumor about her is true. She is the goddess of the Amun Ra Empire, both in beauty and in mind.”

Pompey considered his words carefully before giving a curt nod. “Very well. My army will march toward Alexandria, but only once I have met your Queen face to face. I will return her throne to her, but not before that.”

Apollodorus bowed slightly in acknowledgment. “My Queen will be here soon. You need not worry.”

BA-DOOOOM!

Before he could say another word, a thunderous explosion echoed through the air, shaking the ground beneath them.

“What in Hades?!” Pompey exclaimed, his instincts kicking in as he reached for his sword.

The tent flaps burst open as soldiers rushed outside to assess the situation. Pompey and Apollodorus followed quickly, their eyes scanning the scene before them.

And then they saw him.

A lone warrior stood amidst the chaos, clad in a flowing black cloak and donning an ominous golden mask. His blade, already slick with fresh blood, cut through Pompey’s men with lethal precision. One after another, they fell, unable to withstand the sheer speed and force of his attacks.

Pompey’s eyes widened as recognition dawned upon him. He whispered the name almost involuntarily, “Septimius…”

Apollodorus turned to him sharply, surprised. “You know him?”

Pompey’s jaw clenched. “Lucius Septimius… He was one of my best mercenaries. I hired him not long ago, but after my banishment, he vanished.”

Apollodorus frowned, shaking his head. “No. He is not with Caesar. He is currently under the service of the Pharaoh.”

Pompey’s expression darkened with rage. “That traitorous dog…” he spat, his grip tightening on his weapon.

But Pompey could not have known the truth. The man behind the golden mask was not Lucius Septimius at all.

It was Nathan.

Nathan moved through the ranks of Pompey’s soldiers with terrifying ease, dispatching them in mere moments. Their armor did nothing to protect them; their swords barely had time to be raised before he ended their lives. His crimson-stained blade gleamed under the flickering light of burning torches.

Then, his gaze settled on Pompey.

“That must be him,” Nathan thought, a smile playing at his lips. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

“Watch out!” Apollodorus shouted, sensing imminent danger. Without hesitation, he leaped in front of Pompey, raising his arms in a defensive stance.

BADAM!

The impact was instantaneous. A devastating kick landed against Apollodorus’s arms with such overwhelming force that he felt his bones crack under the pressure. The sheer power sent a shockwave through his body. He gritted his teeth, trying to endure the pain, but it was too much.

“He’s strong…!” Apollodorus thought in alarm, his muscles straining to withstand the force. But in the next moment, his resistance shattered. He was hurled backward at full speed, crashing violently into a nearby tent, bringing it down in a heap of torn fabric and splintered wood.

“Y-You miserable—GHHH!!” Pompey barely had time to curse before a cold, vice-like grip wrapped around his throat. His eyes bulged in shock as he felt his feet lift off the ground.

Nathan had him.

Effortlessly, as if carrying nothing more than a sack of grain, Nathan vanished once more—dragging Pompey along with him, disappearing into the shadows like a phantom of death.