I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Well… I didn’t expect this.”

A new voice cut through the air like a blade.

Nathan’s body stiffened. Slowly, he turned his head.

Standing at the edge of the corridor, arms crossed, expression unreadable, was none other than Crassus.

“Father!”

Licinia’s voice rang through the marble hall as she darted forward, silk robes flowing like waves behind her. Her cheeks were flushed—not just with embarrassment, but something deeper, something volatile. She clutched her father’s arm with dramatic urgency and pointed a trembling finger at the white-haired young man standing nearby.

“He… he made me drink some kind of dangerous potion!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with distress.

Crassus, the Emperor himself—an aging man of iron will and keen eyes that had seen through the deceit of many—turned his calm, calculating gaze to the accused.

“Is that true?” he asked, his voice cool and measured, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Nathan.

Nathan’s response came without hesitation. “No.”

A pause. Then Crassus simply nodded. “I see.”

“Father!” Licinia gasped, scandalized, stepping back as if wounded by his dismissiveness. She looked at him in disbelief. “You believe him just like that?! Without even questioning me?”

Crassus let out a long sigh, folding his arms behind his back. His expression wasn’t stern—it was weary, the kind that comes from years of parenting someone too clever for her own good.

“Daughter,” he said, “I know you better than I know myself. Let me guess… You bought a potion and now you’re blaming someone else because it backfired?”

He turned his head slowly, glancing toward Nathan as if waiting for confirmation.

Nathan gave a small, amused nod.

“She bought a love potion,” he said simply. “She intended to use it on Caesar. I caught her in the act and tried to stop her… but in the process, she accidentally took the potion herself.”

Licinia’s face turned crimson. “Accidentally?! How shameless!” she barked, glaring daggers at Nathan. “You’re the one who forced it on me!”

Then, as if the realization was just now catching up to her, she clutched her chest with one trembling hand. Her breathing grew uneven, her pupils dilating slightly.

“A-and now… now I’m feeling strange…” she muttered, averting her gaze, clearly flustered.

Her fingers pressed against her bodice as if to still the wild fluttering of her heart.

Crassus closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh of disappointment. “Oh, daughter… I told you not to act on impulse. Potions, schemes, secrets—none of it ends well.”

Licinia’s lip quivered in frustration. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“I… I had to do something!” she cried out. “Servillia’s already captured his heart! And now there’s this new woman—the Hero! It’s obvious Caesar likes her, I can see it in his eyes!”

Crassus opened his mouth, then shut it. His face softened a little.

“Caesar is an emperor,” he said finally, his voice laced with fatherly patience. “Of course he’ll have other women. That’s the reality of power. It’s not about removing the competition, it’s about playing your role wisely. Timing. Influence. Charm. You must use your strengths, not these foolish tricks.”

Nathan watched the exchange with a blank stare, utterly baffled. An emperor, offering dating advice to his own daughter like a seasoned courtship coach—it was absurd.

Licinia, meanwhile, shook her head, overwhelmed.

“I can’t think straight right now,” she said, voice growing shrill. “Father, I need to find that old apothecary woman and get this potion removed—quickly!”

Without waiting for permission, she turned and ran, her heels clicking against the polished stone floor as she vanished down the hallway, leaving only a faint scent of perfume and confusion in her wake.

Crassus exhaled with an amused chuckle, shaking his head slowly.

“You did well to stop her,” he said, turning his gaze back to Nathan. “It shows your loyalty to Caesar. I would advise you, however—don’t breathe a word of this foolishness to him.”

“I have no reason to share something so petty,” Nathan replied coolly.

“That’s good to hear.”

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with tension. Then Nathan’s tone shifted—cool indifference giving way to something sharper, more confrontational.

“Good?” he echoed. “Is that what you truly want, Emperor Crassus? More influence at court by offering up your daughter to Caesar like a token? Are you that afraid of him?”

Crassus’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual composure. The words cut deeper than expected—not because of their content, but because of who had said them, and how.

“Septimius… what are you saying?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with genuine confusion.

He looked at Nathan, really looked at him. The young man’s voice had shifted—less diplomatic, more raw. A rare thing. For the first time, Crassus saw not just the soldier or the politician… but something else beneath the surface.

Something… disappointed.

Nathan was about to speak his mind—his real thoughts, unfiltered and raw—but something pulled him back. A subtle shift in the air. The faintest brush of mana, and suddenly he knew.

They were being watched.

His sharp senses honed by experience and divine training picked up several presences lurking just beyond the entrance of the grand dining hall. Shadows among shadows, listening intently, silent as ghosts. Caesar’s men. Again.

Nathan’s lips parted, but he held back. Whatever he had intended to say—whatever honesty had nearly slipped past his guard—was sealed away behind a veil of caution.

“Nothing,” he said flatly, his voice calm but empty. “Perhaps I placed the other Emperors on the same pedestal as Caesar… but I should’ve known better after witnessing Pompey.”

The words stung. Crassus stiffened, his knuckles tightening around the edge of the marble table. His pride burned, and though his face remained composed, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly with anger. He felt insulted—brushed aside by a boy. But still, he said nothing. Only watched Nathan’s figure as it faded into the hallway shadows, cloak swaying with regal confidence.

Nathan didn’t linger.

The moment he exited the hall, he felt the weight of Rome pressing down on him. The Eternal City, resplendent and ancient, now felt more like a web of spies than a capital of glory. Caesar’s influence was everywhere—his eyes, his ears, his loyal dogs. There wasn’t a single alley or chamber untouched by his reach. If things continued like this, Nathan realized, there would be no room left to forge the alliances he needed to challenge the tyrant.

But thankfully, he wasn’t one to place all his hopes in idle talks and fragile handshakes.

He had anticipated this.

Last night, he’d already put the next piece of his plan in motion. Scylla had been sent to fetch Medea. She alone possessed the talents and knowledge needed for what came next. And tonight, if all went well, she would arrive in Rome.

With her arrival would begin the next phase: the downfall of Marcus Antonius. That man had lingered in power long enough.

But until then, there was still time. A visit was due.

Amaterasu.

Unlike other divine realms, her world was welcoming—warm, even. Nathan didn’t need rituals or elaborate ceremonies. Just a call was enough. She would answer. She always did.

He closed his eyes and reached out, not with words, but with intent.

And in the blink of an eye, he crossed the threshold between the physical and divine.

He now stood in a town unlike any in the mortal world. A place where tradition met the impossible. Wooden buildings stretched higher than they should, imbued with sacred architecture and celestial grace. Red torii gates dotted the landscape, their wood glowing faintly under the rays of a golden sun that never dimmed. The wind carried the scent of incense and cherry blossoms, even though no trees were in sight.

Yet, the streets were eerily quiet. No footsteps, no voices. No residents bustling about. Only silence. Sacred, pristine silence. And that only made the place feel even more ethereal. A sanctuary. A realm where the soul could breathe.

Nathan looked around, familiarity softening the edges of his usual wariness. He had been here many times before—more than he could count. This place, though unchanging, always brought a strange peace to him.

And then, as expected, the silence was broken by the lightest of footsteps.

Behind him, radiant and serene, Amaterasu appeared. Her black hair flowed back and her kimono shimmered with divine patterns of the sun and sky. Grace incarnate.

At her side walked Kaguya—ever the moon to Amaterasu’s sun. Quiet, composed, her presence soothing but distant.

Amaterasu gave a small, amused smile as she folded her arms and tilted her head. “Enjoying your time in Rome, Nate?”

Nathan turned, meeting her gaze with a small smirk of his own. “Can’t say I’m not. It’s… different, for sure.”

Their relationship was anything but ordinary.

It had begun with chains—magical and symbolic. Nathan had once bound her using Kaguya, forcing her compliance in a move many would call blasphemous. The start was hostile, bitter, thick with mistrust. But things had shifted. Changed. Softened.

Nathan had been ruthless to Khione at first, true. He had taken her, used her, broken her. But Amaterasu had never faced that fate. He had seen something in her—something noble right at their first encounter. She hadn’t craved conquest or domination. She had simply wanted to protect what was hers: her realm, her people, Kaguya.

And Nathan… respected that.

Perhaps that’s why, despite everything, he had never touched her in that way. Never sought to break her or possess her body. And maybe it was that restraint—rare and precious in someone like Nathan—that led Amaterasu to see the truth behind his mask.

He wasn’t here to destroy her world.

And over time, a fragile bond had formed. Understanding. Respect. Trust, even.

Amaterasu had taken him under her wing, not as a prisoner, not as an enemy, but as a pupil. She had taught him things no mortal should know. Pushed him beyond his limits. Refined the chaos within him into divine purpose.

She, more than anyone else, had shaped him into what he was now—a demigod.

A force to be reckoned with.

Of course, Nathan loved Amaterasu.

That much was undeniable, even if he had never spoken it aloud. It wasn’t merely admiration for her strength, nor just respect for her divine radiance. It was something deeper—slow-burning, patient, and ever-growing. He wanted her—not just in the way a man might desire a woman, but with a longing rooted in reverence. Yes, he ached to make her his, to feel her skin against his and to take her to bed, but he would never force it. Not with her.

He understood her too well.

And he was willing to wait.

Because Nathan knew it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, the walls she kept so carefully intact would come down. The warmth in her gaze when she thought he wasn’t looking, the faint softness in her voice when she spoke his name—those things told him everything he needed to know.

Then, a soft breath.

He turned his eyes from the golden goddess to the pale figure standing just behind her.

“It’s been a while, Kaguya,” Nathan said, his tone calmer now, touched with familiarity.

The Moon Princess stood still, her ethereal white eyes meeting his. She folded her arms with practiced grace, her long dark hair fluttering slightly as if caught in a breeze that didn’t exist. But despite her poised demeanor, a pink hue rose to her cheeks.

“It has…” she replied softly, her voice calm yet touched by something else—shyness, perhaps, or something far more delicate.

Nathan couldn’t help but notice the slight quiver in her aura. He remembered their first encounter clearly—the confrontation, the struggle, and the single moment when he had asserted dominance to bring her under control. It had been necessary back then, a show of power. But since that day, he had never touched her again. Not even once.

And yet, Kaguya had stayed.

Over the months, something had shifted between them. Through countless spars, intense training, and long silences shared beneath starlit skies, she had grown close to him. She had watched him train with Amaterasu, had even received personal guidance from him. Nathan, for all his flaws, had taken the time to train her, offer her insight, and even protect her.

At first, she had resisted the feelings blooming inside her. The Moon Princess had never imagined herself falling for any man—least of all one as complicated and intense as Nathan. But it had happened.

Now, standing in his presence again, she felt it return—the flutter in her chest, the subtle anticipation.

“I trust you’ve been taking good care of Kastoria,” Nathan said, folding his arms as he looked her over.

Kaguya nodded. “The kingdom is doing well,” she replied, her tone formal, though her eyes lingered on him a bit longer than necessary.

“And how are my sisters? And Rena?”

He spoke with genuine interest. His sisters, after all, were precious to him. But Rena… she was a different matter altogether. That sharp-tongued, haughty noblewoman from Japan had made quite the first impression. Arrogant, proud, every inch a woman raised in tradition and superiority. Yet Nathan had cracked through her ego with a few words and fewer actions. She had mellowed quickly in his presence, and he found himself curious—perhaps even eager—to see her again.

“They’re doing well,” Kaguya answered.

But there was a flicker in her eyes. Something brief, subtle, but unmistakable. A hint of discontent.

She had noticed that he asked about them before her.

Nathan, perceptive as ever, caught the emotion behind her carefully practiced facade. Kaguya was graceful, reserved—but not immune to jealousy. Especially not when it came to him. She concealed it well, but not from him.

He smiled slightly, then turned his back, letting the tension linger in the air for a moment.

“Well,” he said with a hint of playfulness in his voice, “let’s not waste time. I didn’t come here just to exchange pleasantries.”

He stepped forward into the open courtyard of Amaterasu’s divine realm, the sunlight blazing above casting his silhouette in sharp relief.

“Let’s train.”