I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan cut through the skies, Rome’s ancient silhouette slowly coming into view beneath the fading light of dusk. The wind howled past him in rushing waves, but his grip remained steady as he carried Freja securely in his arms. Just beside him, Medea soared with effortless grace, her long hair trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.

He had deliberately chosen to carry Freja himself. The decision wasn’t merely practical—it was born of caution. Nathan knew Medea well enough by now. She was volatile, prideful, and her jealousy burned like wildfire. If he had entrusted Freja to her, Medea might have let her slip through her fingers—or worse, discarded her deliberately—just to sate that venomous envy she sometimes struggled to contain because Nathan went to save Freja like a hero. It wasn’t beyond her. In fact, it was exactly the sort of thing she was capable of.

Freja, however, was drowning in her own turmoil.

Her cheeks burned as red as the evening sky, and though she tried to compose herself, she could not ignore how exposed she felt, how vulnerable she seemed in Nathan’s hold. She had never—never in her entire life—been carried this way by a man. Her body was rigid, but her heart hammered as if it wanted to burst from her chest.

The strength in Nathan’s arms was undeniable, the warmth of his body seeping into hers, steady and unyielding. Even his scent lingered faintly, clean yet faintly earthy, grounding. She hated how safe she felt in his hold, how comforting it was, because it made her far too aware of him. Each beat of her heart only amplified the realization that she wasn’t resisting this closeness at all.

Her mind swirled with dangerous thoughts, so she did the only thing she could to distract herself—she spoke.

“I…I am sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rushing wind.

Nathan didn’t look down at her. His eyes remained fixed ahead. “For what?” he asked, calm as ever.

Freja’s lips trembled. “I…I gave your name when she asked it…” The guilt weighed heavily on her words. Even now, the memory clawed at her chest. To her, it was nothing less than betrayal.

Nathan didn’t falter. His voice was steady, unshaken. “I don’t care.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Eh?” She tilted her head up to see his face, searching for any hint of anger or disdain—but there was none.

“Your life was in danger,” Nathan said evenly. “Did she also threaten Elin, maybe?”

Freja’s throat tightened. She gave a small, guilty nod.

“Then you did good,” Nathan replied, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. “I wouldn’t get upset or angry just because you gave out the name of someone you barely know. You acted to protect your closest friend. That was the right choice. In fact…” His eyes hardened with seriousness. “I would have been disappointed in you if you had chosen to sacrifice Elin just to remain ‘loyal’ to me.”

His words cut deep—not because they wounded, but because they illuminated something Freja had never considered. If she had chosen Elin’s death for the sake of pride, of some abstract notion of loyalty to Nathan, then her loyalty would have been nothing but brittle glass, ready to shatter under the first real weight.

Her lips quivered. Her eyes blurred. Then the tears came.

The guilt, the fear, the tension—everything she had been holding inside spilled out the moment his words reached her. She trembled in his arms, tears sliding freely down her cheeks. They weren’t just tears of sorrow, but of release, of something she had denied herself for far too long.

Nathan didn’t flinch when she pressed her forehead against his chest. He simply held her a little closer, allowing her to let go.

“I…I was so scared…” Her voice cracked, barely holding together as she confessed what she had buried deep.

Freja had always been strong. Even back on Earth, she had stood tall, refusing to bend. And when she had been dragged into this cruel world two years ago, she became a pillar, forcing herself to endure for Elin’s sake, for the sake of all her girls classmates who leaned on her. She had worn strength like armor, never once allowing herself to falter.

But she was not unbreakable. She was not invincible.

And tonight, with Nathan’s arms around her, she allowed herself to fracture. The façade crumbled, and the flood of fear, exhaustion, and buried anguish poured out. Every moment of dread she had endured, every sleepless night, every time she had swallowed her terror to protect others—it all found its release in quiet sobs against his chest.

Nathan said nothing. Words weren’t needed. He let her cry, his silence a shield for her breaking heart.

He understood her in a way few could. He felt her pain as though it were his own, and strangely, he admired her all the more for it. For two years she had been the figurehead of resilience, the silent guardian for her class. Even now, as she wept, he didn’t see weakness in her tears—he saw humanity. He saw strength in the fact that she had endured this long without shattering sooner.

And as he gazed at the horizon, the memory of another surfaced unbidden. Amelia.

His beautiful teacher and also wife, who had always worn a smile no matter the weight she carried. Who buried her own fears so her students could stand tall. Who gave warmth even to those who resented the path forced upon them. Amelia, the one who never wavered when others needed her most.

Freja’s tears, her trembling, her courage beneath the fear—it reminded him of Amelia.

A few minutes later, Nathan descended from the clouds, Rome’s ancient skyline stretching beneath him in solemn grandeur. The fading sun cast a molten glow over the ruins and domes, gilding the city in twilight fire. Yet he did not land within the city itself. Instead, he stopped just outside, far from the curious eyes and whispers of onlookers.

He looked to Medea, her black hair rippling in the air beside him. “Bring Elin here,” he said simply.

She nodded, and before she could vanish into the ether, Nathan’s voice cut in again, quieter, but firm.

“Carefully, Medea.”

She nodded and left.

Nathan exhaled slowly before lowering Freja to her feet. She stumbled slightly when her boots touched the earth, her legs still trembling faintly from exhaustion and her earlier tears. Nathan didn’t say anything—he simply stood beside her, arms crossed, waiting.

The silence lasted only a few minutes before the air stirred violently, and Medea appeared again. In her grip was Elin, dangling by the arm as though she were nothing more than a parcel. Medea released her without ceremony, and Elin dropped ungracefully onto the ground with a muted thud.

“E…Elin!” Freja gasped.

She darted forward, heart clenching in panic, but relief washed over her almost instantly. Elin was already pushing herself upright. She was shaken, her knees brushing dirt, but unharmed. She was a Hero—her body was far sturdier than that of an ordinary girl. If something as small as a fall could break her bones, she wouldn’t have survived this long.

“Elin…” Freja’s voice cracked as she fell to her knees beside her. “I am back…”

Elin blinked several times, her sapphire eyes shimmering as recognition dawned. Then, as though the dam had broken, tears welled and spilled down her cheeks.

“F…Freja!” she cried, throwing herself forward, clutching Freja tightly. “I…I was so scared! Where were you?!”

Freja hugged her back, burying her face in Elin’s shoulder, a smile breaking through despite her exhaustion. “I just got caught in a fight,” she said softly.

Elin pulled back suddenly, panic flashing across her tearstained face. “A fight?! You’re hurt…don’t move!” She immediately placed glowing hands over Freja’s body, her healing Skill flowing without hesitation.

Freja, despite the warmth seeping into her wounds, couldn’t stop her voice from trembling. “Nothing happened to you…right?”

Elin shook her head quickly, though tears still streamed down her cheeks. “N…nothing… it’s you, Freja… you’re the one who’s hurt…”

“I’m fine,” Freja murmured, her gaze flickering—just for a heartbeat—toward Nathan. “Septimius saved me.” She bit her lip, turning her eyes away almost instantly. The memory of herself crying like a child in his arms still burned with embarrassment.

“N…Nathan!”

The moment her healing spell was complete, Elin dashed toward him and, to his surprise, threw her arms around him. Nathan raised a brow at the sudden warmth her large and consequent breasts pressing against his chest.

“Thank you!” Elin sobbed, burying her face against him. “Thank you so much!”

Her tears stained his tunic as she clung to him, her body trembling. The weight of her relief, her gratitude, was almost overwhelming. Nathan did not return the embrace—he only raised a hand to rest lightly on her shoulder, keeping his composure—but his sharp eyes shifted to Medea.

The sorceress stood nearby, her expression carved in perfect calm, but her aura betrayed her. Jealousy darkened her presence like a spreading storm, her gaze narrowing each second Elin’s arms remained around him.

Behind them, Freja watched the scene in silence, lips parted. If her classmates could see Elin like this—pure, untouchable Elin—embracing a man so desperately, they would be dumbstruck. No doubt some of them had dreamt of this moment, being hugged by Elin and her large twin mounds.

“It’s fine,” Nathan said finally, his hand gently pushing against Elin’s shoulder, easing her back.

Elin blinked, realization dawning as heat flooded her cheeks. She quickly stepped away, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve, her blush staining her pale skin a deep crimson. “I…I’m sorry…” she stammered. Then, lifting her gaze shyly, she added, “Thank you…for bringing Freja back.”

“If you want to thank me,” Nathan said calmly, “then come with me for the night treatment.”

At his words, Elin straightened, as though reminded of her duty. “Ah—yes!” She nodded quickly, determination replacing her embarrassment.

“Night… treatment?” Freja muttered, blinking in confusion.

Elin clenched her fists, her eyes alight with conviction. “I’ll do my best! You won’t be disappointed!”

“I hope you don’t disappoint me,” Nathan replied evenly. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and swept Elin into his arms.

“Kyaa!” Elin yelped, her face vanishing into Nathan’s chest in mortified embarrassment.

“W…wait!” Freja cried out, panic surging through her as her mind jumped to the worst conclusions. “Where are you taking her?!”

Nathan barely spared her a glance. His eyes narrowed with seriousness. “Alexander didn’t hesitate to sell you off. I trust this time you won’t have any doubts about beating him.” Googlᴇ search novelFir.net

Freja froze, her heart clenching. Then her hands balled into fists, her eyes burning with resolve. “I…I will beat him!”

“Then good.” Nathan’s reply was simple, final. With that he launched into the sky, carrying Elin with him toward Servilia’s estate.

“W…wait!” Freja called after him, stumbling forward helplessly. She could not fly. She could only watch as the two figures became smaller against the darkening heavens. “W…what is night treatment?!” she cried, her voice breaking, her face burning red with both fear and something else she could not name.

Her frantic eyes turned to Medea, desperate for an explanation. But Medea only met her gaze with a cold, mocking look, lips curling faintly, before vanishing like smoke into the night.

Freja was left behind—confused, blushing, and drowning in thoughts that only grew wilder with every passing heartbeat.