I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan melted into the shadows of the narrow Roman alley just as the hooded stranger slipped right after Freja and Elin left. He paused, listening to the distant clatter of wagon wheels on cobblestones, the faint murmur of vendors closing their stalls for the evening. His heart thumped—not from exertion, but from the certainty that this cloaked figure was more than he appeared.

As a fellow Hero, Nathan recognized the aura of power rippling beneath the man’s dark robes, a low hum of barely restrained energy that set his senses on edge. Yet he knew that any overt move in this crowded quarter would draw unwanted attention—from curious citizens, from Caesar’s patrols, even from the very Praetorian cohorts sworn to protect the emperor. If Caesar caught him fighting one of the Heroes he had secret alliance with, he would be immediately put in Caesar’s black list after all.

So he trailed the stranger at a careful distance, the lantern-lit streetlamps of Rome painting long, wavering shadows on the white stucco walls. Beneath his cloak, he dampened his presence, scrubbing away the faint traces of divine might that alone could betray him. He was confident in his strength—after all, he had faced less formidable opponents and emerged unscathed—but prudence dictated stealth.

Then, without warning, the hooded figure halted and pivoted. Nathan turned against the wall.

How had the man sensed him? He pressed his back into the rough stone, willing himself invisible. His pulse began to slow as he realized the stranger’s gaze swept the street, not resting on Nathan but on someone emerging from the gloom further behind.

There, half-hidden beneath the folds of a dusty travel cloak, were two women: Freja and Elin. Freja’s wide eyes glimmered with alarm; Elin’s expression was inscrutable in the flickering lantern light. Nathan’s stomach clenched.

He had been so focused on the hooded man that he didn’t even notice Freja and Elin following him. In fact they were so bad and awkward at it that he couldn’t even make the different between them and simple passerby

Before he could puzzle it out, the hooded man vanished once more, slipping into a side street as silently as a wraith. Nathan shoved off from the wall, every muscle coiled. The faint footprints of energy, like embers in ash, clustered around the corners the stranger had turned. With a measured sprint—feet barely whispering against the cobbles—he pursued, melding with the night. His legs blurred, each stride powered by both mortal speed and the subtlest touch of unique grace.

Behind him, Elin’s voice rose in a startled cry. “He’s going after him, Freja—come on!”

Freja hesitated, brows knitting in exasperation. “Elin, wait—what are you doing?” But Elin’s determination was inexorable; she lurched forward, dragging Freja along by the sleeve of her tunic.

Elin, ever the bold one, had clearly resolved to learn Caesar’s secret plans, even if it meant tailing Nathan under cover of darkness. Nathan for them was Septimius, one of the closest ally of Caesar after all so she was curious why Nathan seemed acting so strange. Maybe she could learn something useful?

As for Freja, still reeling from the shock of Axel’s recent betrayal—Axel, who had sworn his loyalty to Caesar alongside other classmates—had let herself be swept along, curiosity and concern warring in her eyes.

Nathan didn’t bother to acknowledge the two shadows trailing behind him. He had noticed Freja and Elin by now—clearly—but chose to ignore their presence. It was obvious they were trying to keep up with him, and though they were doing a decent job, it wasn’t because they were fast. Far from it.

If Nathan had truly unleashed even a fraction of his real speed, they would have lost sight of him within seconds. They wouldn’t have even seen the afterimage. But there was no need. The hooded figure ahead was moving at a relaxed, almost idle pace. It was as if he didn’t expect—or care—that anyone might be following him. That made things easier… and simultaneously more suspicious.

So Nathan maintained a careful, calculated distance. Close enough to track the man through the winding streets of Rome, yet far enough to avoid detection—at least from the one who mattered. Unfortunately, the same courtesy allowed the two girls behind him to keep following as well.

It was irritating.

But tolerable—for now.

Minutes passed. The sky darkened further, the glow of dusk surrendering to the deep purple of early night. Lanterns burned in iron sconces along the alleys, casting flickering amber light over polished marble and ancient columns. Rome had grown quieter, yet Nathan’s pursuit continued without pause. The scent of baked bread and crushed olives lingered faintly in the air.

Finally, the hooded man came to a stop before a modest stone structure tucked away behind a row of aged villas: a small, vine-draped temple dedicated to the Roman god Jupiter or also Zeus. It was old, perhaps forgotten by most. The kind of temple that was rarely visited except by elderly locals or wandering pilgrims. Nathan stopped as well, hidden in the dark corner of an adjacent courtyard.

The cloaked figure entered.

Nathan waited. He leaned against a worn column, eyes narrowed. A minute passed. Then two. Nothing. No movement. No sign of emergence.

He strained his senses.

Still nothing.

There was no divine aura, no sound of sandals scraping against stone, no flicker of candlelight beyond the entrance. The man had vanished, and Nathan was certain—absolutely certain—that he hadn’t left through the front.

There had to be a hidden passage. Somewhere inside.

Nathan stepped from the shadows and made his way silently toward the entrance. His black cloak fluttered faintly behind him in the evening breeze as he entered the temple.

It was quiet inside. Deathly so.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim interior. A single candle flickered near the altar, casting long shadows over the marble floor. Before him loomed a statue of Jupiter—bearded, stern-faced, seated upon a throne with a lightning bolt carved in hand. Moss and time had dulled the once-brilliant finish of the stone.

Nathan scanned the chamber.

“Where did he go?” he murmured under his breath.

The temple was small—far too small to conceal someone so thoroughly without magical means or a hidden mechanism. Which meant there had to be something here. A switch. A seal. A concealed stair beneath the altar. His mind raced through the possibilities.

Just then—

A sharp, startled yelp broke the silence.

“No—Elin!”

“Ah!”

Nathan turned swiftly, his expression flashing with annoyance.

At the temple’s entrance, sprawled awkwardly across the stone threshold, were Freja and Elin. They had apparently tried to spy on him and ended up tripping over each other in their haste. Elin was rubbing her elbow while Freja tried to maintain some semblance of dignity despite her flushed face.

“What are you two doing here?” Nathan asked sharply, his eyes narrowing.

He had hoped to avoid this. Their presence was becoming more than a mere nuisance.

“T…That’s what we should be asking!” Freja snapped back, though her voice lacked conviction. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She crossed her arms in an attempt to shield her pride. “Why are you here, sneaking around and following some stranger into a temple?”

“I’m praying,” Nathan replied flatly, without emotion.

“To Zeus?” Freja asked incredulously. “Do you think we’re stupid? You were acting strange. Anyone could see it!”

“That’s not your concern,” Nathan said, turning his gaze back to the statue as if dismissing her. “Now leave.”

His words struck with the sharp finality of a blade.

Freja clenched her fists at her sides. She had no counter for that. He was right. They had no authority here, no reason to demand anything of him. But it didn’t stop the frustration from swelling in her chest.

Just as the silence began to thicken again, Elin stepped forward. Her demeanor was different—calmer, more vulnerable. She approached Nathan slowly, eyes downcast, until she stood right before him. Then, hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand between her own.

Nathan looked down at her, puzzled.

“Please…” Elin whispered. Her voice trembled. “I don’t want any of my classmates to be hurt. Maybe Axel and the others think it’s right but the other don’t know what they are going into…”

Nathan stared at her, unmoving.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked quietly.

Elin met his gaze then, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She bit her lip before answering.

“B-Because you’re close to the Emperor,” she said. “Closer than most. If you know something—anything—about what he’s planning… please, tell us. We just want to make sure everyone will be alright. That no one dies because of something we didn’t see coming.”

The temple was quiet again.

Only the flame flickered in the candle behind them, its light dancing over the ancient features of Jupiter’s face.

Nathan said nothing at first. He simply looked at Elin, her soft hands wrapped around his ones, her words still echoing in the hollow chamber.

Nathan remained still for a long moment, staring at the spot where Elin’s hands had just been. The warmth of her touch still lingered faintly on his skin. He didn’t like being touched. He didn’t like being asked questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

But her words stayed with him.

These two… Elin and Freja.

They weren’t just naive classmates bumbling into things they didn’t understand. They were part of Caesar’s designs. Caesar hadn’t chosen them at random. He was recruiting them, just as he had recruited others—clever, gifted individuals, easy to manipulate. Pieces on a board, pawns for a greater game.

And maybe… just maybe… Nathan could make use of that.

If Caesar was watching them, using them as future tools, then turning them into his tools instead might another way to dismantle the Emperor’s plans from the inside.

He didn’t need them to understand everything.

He just needed them to follow.

“I don’t know what Caesar wants,” Nathan said at last, his voice quiet but steady.

Elin’s eyes searched his face, and in that moment, she saw no deception. His tone was free of arrogance, his expression unreadable. There was no obvious lie. Just the cold truth of a man who lived in a world of shadows.

“I see…” Elin murmured. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and her gaze dropped to the floor.

“But,” Nathan continued, before her hope could fully extinguish, “maybe we can find out.”

Both girls looked up at him, startled.

Nathan stepped away from them and approached the altar again. He glanced at the statue of Jupiter looming above him, its cracked marble face watching with indifferent divinity. Then his eyes moved to the floor, scanning the stone tiles, running his hand along the base of the statue’s pedestal.

“There’s a hidden passage here,” he said, his voice more focused now. “Help me find it.”