I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Is everything in place?” Caesar asked calmly, his fingers lightly tapping the carved armrest of his imposing oak desk, the gold insignia of the Empire glinting in the candlelight. He sat in his private quarters within the towering Senate Castle, a room of marbled elegance and austere grandeur.

Standing at attention before him was Octavius. The younger man gave a firm nod, his polished armor reflecting the soft glow of the room’s hanging lanterns.

“All as you instructed, Caesar,” Octavius confirmed. “I verified everything personally. The arena is already overflowing—citizens, nobles, and foreign dignitaries alike. They’re all waiting, breath held for the grand opening ceremony. All of Rome awaits your appearance.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Caesar’s lips. “Good,” he said, rising to his feet with regal grace, the folds of his crimson cloak trailing behind him like a river of authority. He took a step toward the door but paused briefly, turning his head slightly.

“And Septimius?”

Octavius shifted slightly before answering, “He insisted on joining us later. Said he preferred to avoid the spotlight, as always.”

Caesar let out a low chuckle but didn’t press further. There were other matters he intended to speak to Septimius about—particularly rumors about a certain exchange with Servilia—but they would have to wait.

Today was far too important.

The first brick in the foundation of his true ambitions would be laid before the masses. The beginning of something far greater than a spectacle of blood and steel.

Elsewhere within the sprawling expanse of the Senate Castle, tucked away in a secluded section reserved exclusively for the so-called Heroes of Amun Ra, lay a private Roman bath—an oasis of steam and serenity amid the day’s chaos.

That serenity, however, was about to shatter.

“Kyaaa!” Elin’s startled scream pierced the thick mist, echoing sharply off the marble walls.

She had been lounging deep within the heated waters of the bath, her delicate frame submerged alongside Freja. Both had chosen to indulge in a moment of relaxation before the arena festivities began. The bath was their little escape, the water a soothing balm to their tense nerves.

But that peace dissolved the moment Nathan suddenly appeared—his figure manifesting from the steam like a phantom.

“You… you!!” Freja gasped, her cheeks turning crimson as she instinctively moved to shield the wide-eyed Elin, pulling the girl closer while hiding both their upper bodies beneath the water’s surface. She glared at Nathan with fire in her eyes.

“Pervert! What do you think you’re doing!?” she spat, her voice trembling somewhere between outrage and embarrassment.

But Nathan remained completely unaffected by the sight before him. His gaze didn’t linger, nor did he react to their nudity. His expression was unreadable, distant. He had come for answers—not distractions.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said coldly, eyes fixed on Freja. “All your classmates should already be at the arena.”

“And why should we rush to watch a bunch of mindless brutes butcher each other for sport?” Freja snapped, defiance in every word. “Is that what you people call culture?”

Nathan tilted his head slightly. “One of those mindless brutes happens to be one of your own classmates.”

Freja’s face twisted slightly, her annoyance giving way to reluctant recognition. She knew who he meant. “Hmph. That idiot? Let him do what he wants,” she muttered, clicking her tongue. “I didn’t ask him to fight.”

“So you won’t care if he dies?” Nathan asked without flinching.

The question struck like a hammer. Freja blinked, caught off guard. “W…What kind of question is that?”

Nathan stepped closer, steam parting around him like a veil. Freja instinctively sank deeper into the water, drawing Elin closer, but Nathan’s eyes remained fixed and solemn.

“I asked,” he said again, voice low and calm, “if you’ll feel anything at all… if your classmate dies in that arena.”

Freja’s expression twisted with discomfort. “Why should I? It’s their fault we’re even stuck in this miserable place!” she barked, but the fury in her voice now sounded more like a shield than true conviction.

Nathan then turned his attention to Elin, who had remained silent through it all, her golden hair clinging to her shoulders in wet strands.

“And you?” he asked gently. “Will you mourn him if he falls?”

Elin looked down, her lips parting slightly. She didn’t meet his gaze. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was thick, punctuated only by the gentle bubbling of the water.

Finally, Freja spoke again, her voice quieter this time, almost shaking. “Did you really come all the way here—into our bath—just to ask us that?”

Nathan stood still for a moment, his gaze unreadable as the rising steam of the bath curled around him like ghostly tendrils. Then, slowly, he turned his back to the girls—his voice low, almost quiet, yet sharp as a blade against flesh.

“I wanted to see how you’d react… if I told you I plan to erase your entire class from existence.”

His words dropped like a guillotine.

Both Freja and Elin froze, the warmth of the bath suddenly feeling like ice against their skin. The casual manner in which he spoke clashed violently with the cruel weight of the statement, sending a tremor through the silence.

Elin’s voice cracked as she stood up abruptly, water cascading from her glistening body. “Y..You can’t!”

Her pale skin shimmered under the lantern light, droplets trailing along the soft curves of her figure. She was youthful, untouched, her body radiating a kind of fragile beauty—unaware of its own allure. Her breasts, full and heavy, glistened as water rolled down their smooth surface, her pink nipples hardened, likely from the heat, though Nathan’s eyes took in everything with the practiced detachment of someone whose interest lay far beyond flesh.

Lower still, between her thighs, her innocence was exposed—delicate, neat, and clearly untouched by hands of lust. She didn’t even notice until—

“Elin!”

Freja’s sharp voice snapped her back to reality. Realizing her complete exposure, Elin let out a muffled squeal and plunged back into the water, submerging herself against Freja’s back, her arms wrapped tightly around her as if seeking refuge in her warmth. Her face burned crimson, too mortified to even speak.

Freja let out a tired sigh, though her expression remained firm, eyes narrowing on Nathan.

“Are you… seriously saying those words?” she asked through gritted teeth, her fists clenched beneath the surface of the water.

Nathan took a slow, unhurried step toward them, his voice hardening further. “Your classmates are fools—selfish, weak, and blind. They’ve already begun placing their trust in the wrong people. If any of them dares to stand in my way, dares to block my path to Caesar… I’ll kill them. Without hesitation, and without regret.”

“A…Aren’t you one of us?” Freja asked, her voice shaking. “You’re from Earth too, aren’t you?”

Nathan paused.

“So what?”

Her breath caught. “How… how can you talk so easily about killing people you’ve shared a world with?”

His gaze darkened. “Because this isn’t Earth. And the sooner you strip yourselves of Earth’s illusions, the better your chances are of surviving. You think this is just Earth… but with magic? You’re wrong. That delusion will be the death of you.”

His tone was clinical, as though reciting facts rather than making a threat. Cold, unwavering truth.

“You’ve all been lucky so far—protected, pampered, shielded from the real dangers of this world the last two years. But luck doesn’t last. When the day comes that you’re thrown against true monsters, when despair grips you and no one comes to save you… you’ll break. Not because you’re weak, but because you never accepted what this world truly is.”

Freja’s lips parted but no words came. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, her hands tightening into trembling fists beneath the water. She wanted to argue—but couldn’t.

Nathan turned his eyes to Elin, who still clung to Freja like a frightened child, her body trembling slightly.

“You might survive, Freja. You have the spirit. But her?” He tilted his chin toward the girl. “She wouldn’t last. I imagine you’ve been protecting her since the day you arrived here. Haven’t you?”

Freja flinched.

Nathan pressed on, voice still level. “But imagine what would’ve happened to her if you weren’t there. Just here in Rome alone—left to fend for herself—she would’ve been raped many times. Do you honestly believe the Roman Senators would have shown mercy? No. They would’ve dragged her into their halls, stripped her of her dignity, and used her until there was nothing left.”

“S…Stop it!” Freja shouted, her voice laced with fury and fear as she pulled Elin closer.

Nathan didn’t relent. “That is this world. Cold. Unforgiving. And cruel. The strong rule, the weak are devoured, and kindness is often a mask for power. If she survives, it won’t be because she grew strong—it’ll be because someone powerful kept her safe.”

He paused, his tone shifting just slightly—lower, more contemplative.

“Helen of Troy. She never fought a day in her life. And yet, she lived like a goddess in Tenebria. Why? Because I made Tenebria a place where no one dared harm her,” Nathan said.

His words may have sounded arrogant—invoking the name of Helen of Troy, a legendary figure whose very beauty was said to launch a thousand ships—but not a single syllable rang false.

Because beneath the pride, beneath the chilling calm with which he spoke, lay a simple truth: with someone as powerful as Nathan, those under his protection would never be harmed.

Freja knew it. Elin knew it.

The security Nathan provided wasn’t born from diplomacy or goodwill. It was forged in strength, fear, and absolute control. In a world where power dictated morality, his reach alone was a shield stronger than any sword.

And then came his next words, spoken not as a question, but a challenge:

“The question is—can you be to Elin… what I am to Tenebria?”

Freja faltered.

Her throat tightened as her gaze fell to the surface of the water, rippling gently between them. Her lips parted, but no words came. She bit down hard, tasting blood, her silence louder than any scream.

Nathan took a step closer. The steam curled around his figure like a serpent, his presence almost unnatural in its weight.

“Hesitation,” he said, his tone colder than ever, “will cost not only your life… but hers as well. If you fall, Freja, Elin won’t survive. And her death will be slower. More humiliating. More terrifying. Is that what you want?”

Freja’s composure shattered. Her eyes widened, lips trembling, and tears began to pool, brimming at the edges. Her shoulders shook, though she held back the sob rising in her throat.

“No…” she whispered, voice cracking under the truth she could no longer deny.

Elin clung tighter to her, burying her face against Freja’s back, her small frame quivering.

Nathan’s tone did not soften. If anything, it grew sharper.

“Then make the right decisions—without hesitation. Before it’s too late.”

“I… I…” Freja stammered, her voice barely holding together. “Several of my classmates… they weren’t like the others. They didn’t want any of this. They were kind… just scared. Just… following along because they had no choice.”

“Y..Yes… please…” Elin’s soft, tear-soaked voice came from behind her. “Don’t kill them…”

For the first time, Nathan’s expression shifted—just barely. His eyes narrowed as he studied the two girls before him, clinging to hope, clinging to each other.

“Then don’t put them in my way.”

His voice no longer held the edge of threat. It now held something worse—the burden of responsibility.

“But ask yourself something deeper,” he continued, stepping into the space between cruelty and clarity. “Is that truly the right path? Will hiding behind fear, waiting for someone else to strike, protect them? Or will it make you just another victim waiting to happen?”

Freja looked up, eyes glassy.

Nathan’s gaze bore into hers, unrelenting.

“Stop reacting like a cornered animal and start thinking like a protector.” He crouched slightly now, leveling his voice. “I’ll ask you again—do you have the will to do whatever it takes to protect Elin? To protect those among your classmates who still dream of peace? Who just want to go back to Alexandria?”

Silence hung.

Elin sniffled, clinging tighter.

Freja swallowed thickly. Her nails dug into her own palms beneath the surface. Her whole body trembled—not with fear, but with the weight of choice. Of responsibility. Of conviction being forced to take form.

“Wh–What… should I do?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

A small smirk tugged at Nathan’s lips.

It wasn’t condescending, nor triumphant.

It was the smirk of someone satisfied to have been right about someone.