I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The once-clear heavens had twisted into a churning vortex of black clouds. The light was gone, devoured by an overwhelming force that was not his own. Lightning cracked across the horizon, not in gold or white—but in deep crimson, like the blood of creation itself.

This wasn’t his magic.

This wasn’t anything of this world.

Nathan’s face hardened.

He was too late.

Despite his efforts, despite the destruction of the pillar—

A god had answered.

A god had come.

Nathan narrowed his crimson eyes, their icy glint reflecting the churning heavens above. A heavy silence swept through the air as the once-dark sky began to twist and tear apart, like fabric being clawed open by unseen hands. Swirling clouds spiraled in ominous patterns, pulled inward toward the growing fissure in the heavens. The atmosphere grew suffocating, pressing against his lungs with an invisible weight.

Something was coming.

And it wasn’t good.

Nathan’s instincts screamed at him. He had felt it the moment the rift formed—that tingling dread crawling along the nape of his neck. Though he had recently ascended to the rank of a demigod, he was painfully aware of the vast chasm that still separated him from the might of true deities. There were, of course, gods whose power had waned over millennia—forgotten beings barely clinging to relevance. Some of them he could likely face and even defeat.

But this one…

No. The entity answering Ptolemy’s desperate call for divine intervention was no feeble godling. No weak deity would have sensed such a plea across dimensions, let alone torn open the sky to answer it.

Every soul within the ancient city of Alexandria stirred. Commoners, soldiers, scholars—they all tilted their heads upward, drawn by a force they could neither understand nor resist. Their eyes widened with terror and awe as the rift above the ruins of the Pharos, the legendary Lighthouse of Alexandria, widened to reveal a blazing light.

From the blinding brilliance, a form began to coalesce—first vague, then terrifyingly clear.

A colossal head emerged from the light, its features bestial and regal: the visage of a lioness, eyes glowing like twin suns, emanating ferocity and divine fury. Nathan’s breath caught in his throat. But even as he watched, the enormous head began to shrink, its silhouette shifting. The once-monstrous form condensed, the radiant shadow folding inward, sculpting itself into the shape of a humanoid.

Yet nothing about the power emanating from it diminished.

No. It only became more concentrated. More precise. More deadly.

Nathan felt it then—true divine presence. An overwhelming tide of magic and authority crashed against his senses, threatening to drown him where he stood. His knees almost buckled under the sheer weight of it.

This was no ordinary goddess.

She descended slowly, like the sun rising over an ancient battlefield. Her body was that of a statuesque woman, tall and poised, clad in a resplendent gown woven of white and shimmering gold—an Egyptian raiment that clung to her like silk forged from sunlight itself. Her skin held the burnished bronze tone of the desert, smooth and regal, as though she had been sculpted from the sand and blessed by Ra himself.

And then there were her eyes.

Glowing, piercing, inhumanly golden—eyes of a huntress. Of a predator. Of a goddess born of war and fire.

She hovered high above, scanning the ruins below with a cold curiosity, as though rediscovering the world she had once ruled over. And then, without a word, her gaze fell.

Directly on Nathan.

He felt it like a weight slammed into his chest—her attention focused and unrelenting.

Without hesitation, Nathan raised his left hand. In a burst of shadow and cold flame, his Demonic Black Sword materialized in his grip. At the same time, his right hand held tightly onto the sacred blade once wielded by Alexander the Great.

Doing so now was no small statement. It meant he had judged the one before him too dangerous for restraint.

Still, a part of him hoped—desperately—that this could be resolved through dialogue. That there was a chance, however small, for understanding or negotiation. He was not a fool who rushed toward death blindly.

But that hope was thin.

The goddess spoke.

Her voice was not merely sound—it was resonance. A melody that echoed in his bones, ancient and terrible. Her tone carried the weight of centuries, of sand-covered temples and blood-drenched altars.

“Human,” she intoned, her voice both divine and distant. “Are you the one who summoned me?”

Nathan stood in silence for a moment, caught between instinct and reason. The golden gaze of the goddess bore into him with divine intensity, each heartbeat a hammer pounding against his ribs. How should he respond? Would a lie keep him alive—or would it only hasten his end?

No.

Lying to a goddess was as foolish as standing still in the path of a flood. It would serve no purpose but to insult her and doom him further. He took a breath, steadying his racing mind. Honesty, at least, might buy him a moment more.

“I did not summon you,” Nathan replied evenly, his voice unwavering despite the pressure that still weighed on his soul. “But may I ask… who stands before me?”

The divine woman’s lion-like eyes narrowed slightly, not out of suspicion, but as if appraising his worthiness to even pose the question. Her voice followed—a cascade of power veiled in calmness.

“My name is Sekhmet,” she said, her words resounding with ancient majesty. “I came in answer to a call—a cry woven in the threads of a promise I once made to Alexander.”

Her golden gaze drifted across the burning ruins of the once-proud city, and then she asked, voice clipped with sudden expectation, “Where is he?”

Nathan met her eyes. “He’s long gone. Alexander the Great died hundred years ago. We now live in a different age, far removed from his time.”

There was a pause. A silence that stretched like the desert heat. Then she let out a soft, contemplative murmur, tinged with something that might’ve been… regret?

“Ah… yes. Humans and their fragile lifespans. He is dead, then…” she said, almost absently. “That is… unfortunate. He was the only mortal I ever respected. A warrior. A king. A storm of ambition and vision.”

Her gaze, once lost in memory, snapped back to Nathan.

“Then who called me?” she demanded, her tone regaining its divine sharpness. “His descendants?”

She scanned the smoking horizon, and her expression began to shift as her divine senses took in the cries of battle, the flaming rooftops, the crumbling ruins. The once-glorious city of Alexandria was drowning in chaos and war.

Her golden eyes narrowed, glowing brighter.

“I see now,” she said slowly. “One of his bloodline has summoned me… to save this city. Tell me, mortal—who dares assault the legacy of Alexander?”

Nathan held his ground beneath her gaze, still grasping the twin swords in his hands.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” he began, voice calm but edged with urgency. “The one who performed the summoning—the one who called for you—is not the true ruler of Alexandria. He bears Alexander’s blood, yes, but not his spirit. The rightful heir, the rightful Queen, is Cleopatra. She fights to reclaim what should never have been stolen.”

Sekhmet’s expression darkened, unreadable.

“Only those of Alexander’s blood may invoke the Pillar,” she said, voice dropping into a steely, echoing chill. “Only his lineage has the right to summon me.”

Nathan didn’t flinch.

“Then he may have the blood,” he said firmly, “but he is no true King. A traitor wearing a crown is still a traitor. Cleopatra carries not only Alexander’s blood—but his vision, his will. She seeks not to burn the city, but to save it.”

Sekhmet hovered silently, her golden mane of light flickering like flames in the wind. Her glowing eyes fixed on him again with renewed intensity.

“The Pillar of the Sky was created to respond to the cry of Alexander or his direct descendants,” she said, her voice laced with old power. “It was never meant to be used to bring ruin to Alexandria. It exists to protect it.”

“Then tell me, Goddess,” Nathan said coldly, his red eyes flashing. “Will you now kill one of Alexander’s descendants… just to honor your promise? Will you uphold the letter of your vow while ignoring its meaning?”

A heavy silence fell.

Sekhmet’s expression changed subtly, her brows tightening as she studied him.

Until now, she had barely paid him any mind, viewing him as a mere mortal in a divine chessboard. But there was something strange about this one. Something unfamiliar.

The power that lingered around him wasn’t godly… but it wasn’t entirely mortal either. It was an amalgam of forces—dark and bright, human and something else.

And more striking than that was his demeanor.

He did not kneel. He did not tremble or beg.

He looked her in the eyes and spoke back, challenging her with conviction and clarity. There was courage in him. Or madness. Perhaps both.

She had seen kings grovel and gods stammer under her gaze. But this boy… was different.

Sekhmet’s golden eyes narrowed, glowing like molten suns as they bore into Nathan’s. Her presence alone felt like the weight of an entire empire pressing down upon him, ancient and unyielding.

“Your name,” she asked, her voice echoing like the toll of a divine bell—resonant, commanding, and cold.

There was no room for falsehood here. Nathan felt it in his bones. A lie would not only be detected, but punished—perhaps with something worse than death. So he gave the truth, plain and clear.

“Nathan,” he replied, his voice calm despite the tremor crawling up his spine.

Sekhmet tilted her head slightly, her mane of divine energy crackling faintly in the wind. Her expression didn’t change, but something shifted—like the desert winds before a storm.

“I will offer you a choice, Nathan,” she said, her tone sharpened like the edge of a ceremonial blade. “Stand aside. Move from my path. Do so, and I shall spare your life—not out of mercy, but for the audacity you have shown to speak so boldly in my presence.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, not a threat, but a decree. Final. Absolute.

Nathan’s red eyes flared with defiance. “And if I refuse?”

The air grew colder.

A silence followed—one that felt as if the very world paused to listen. Sekhmet blinked slowly, almost in disbelief. Had this mortal lost his mind? Or perhaps… he had none to begin with.

She stared at him, the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Not quite amusement. Not quite rage. Perhaps something far more ancient: divine condescension.

“Then you will die,” she said softly, her voice now a whisper that echoed like a scream. “And I shall ensure your death is not swift. I will break your body, Nathan. And your soul will weep for centuries before it finds peace.”

Nathan didn’t move at first. He simply stood there, absorbing her words like one might a freezing wind. Then, slowly, with the quiet grace of a seasoned warrior, he adjusted his footing. The ancient blade of Alexander gleamed in one hand, dark and noble, while his other gripped the corrupted edge of his demonic sword, its abyssal energy thrumming with hunger.

He closed his eyes for a breath, then opened them again, now burning like their original hue of a golden demonic eyes.

“I had always wanted to cross blades with a goddess.”