I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The entire Colosseum fell into an unnatural silence.

Tens of thousands of eyes watched in awe as Nathan rose gracefully from the sand ground, the air rippling beneath him as if reality itself bent to his will. Dust and fragments of shattered stone swirled around his boots, caught in the updraft of his ascent.

He didn’t even glance at Isak, whose lips were still twisted mid-taunt — the words dying in his throat as Nathan’s shadow passed over him.

Ignoring every whispers, Nathan ascended higher, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon the grand marble balcony that loomed over the arena — the Imperial Box.

“Emperor…” Octavius began, half-rising from his seat, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword.

But Caesar raised a single hand, halting him. His expression was calm, yet his eyes gleamed like tempered steel.

“Let him approach,” he said coolly. “If he dares try something here, it will only be his loss.”

He leaned back in his gilded chair, lips curling faintly. He knew Nathan wasn’t foolish enough to strike him before so many witnesses. Not here, not under the unblinking eyes of gods and mortals alike.

But still, a question hung in the air, whispered through every breathless spectator.

Why was Nathan flying toward the balcony?

Then Caesar saw it — that sharp, unmistakable flicker in Nathan’s eyes. It wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at her.

Julia.

“S…Septimius?” Julia’s soft voice trembled as she stood up, her confusion as clear as the sunlight spilling over her golden hair. Her eyes blinked in disbelief as Nathan landed lightly before her, his cape fluttering with the sudden gust.

Without a word, Nathan extended his hand — palm open, steady, inviting.

Julia hesitated. The entire Imperial Box froze in anticipation. For a brief heartbeat, the world seemed to hang between them. Then, cheeks warming with an unbidden blush, she took a timid step forward and placed her small, delicate hand into his.

Nathan bent forward and brushed his lips over her knuckles — a gesture so gentle and deliberate that it seemed to pierce the stillness like a sword through silk.

A collective gasp erupted through the arena.

Even Caesar’s composure cracked, his jaw tightening, eyes burning with barely suppressed fury. But Nathan didn’t spare him a glance. His gaze remained fixed on Julia’s face — on the astonishment and warmth warring in her expression.

Then he spoke.

“If I win the tournament,” Nathan said quietly — yet his voice rolled through the Colosseum like thunder, amplified by the resonance of his Deep Voice skill —

“I do not wish for Pandora’s hand… but for Princess Julia’s.”

The words echoed against the stone arches, sinking into every heart. The crowd erupted into stunned silence once more, unable to believe what they had just heard.

Julia stood motionless, her fingers trembling in his grasp. Her entire face bloomed crimson, her lips parting as if to speak — yet no words came. Her heart thudded wildly against her chest.

Nathan’s eyes glimmered with defiance as he turned slightly toward Caesar. “I hope,” he said with the faintest trace of a smile, “that Emperor Caesar will grant me this honor.”

Caesar’s hand clenched so tightly on the armrest that the marble cracked beneath his fingers. His face turned an ugly shade of red — not from embarrassment, but from seething, contained rage.

It took every ounce of imperial restraint not to shout, not to curse this insolent man in front of his people.

For a long, unbearable moment, the arena was silent — the air itself heavy with tension.

Then Caesar finally exhaled and forced his lips into something that vaguely resembled a smile.

“If…” he said slowly, each word laced with venom, “…that is truly your wish, then I shall grant you the hand of my precious daughter.”

The crowd erupted into wild applause — not realizing the storm that brewed behind that smile.

Inside, Caesar’s thoughts hissed with cold fury: You won’t live long enough to touch her again.

Julia blinked, her confusion deepening.

“F..Father?” She whispered, too softly for most to hear. She wasn’t naive. She sensed the hidden tension beneath their civility, yet she couldn’t stop her heart from racing at the thought that her father had… accepted.

Shock mingled with a quiet, forbidden happiness that made her entire body tremble.

Nathan’s lips curved into a victorious smile. He leaned down once more and pressed another kiss to her hand — slower this time, deliberate, a silent promise. “I will be looking forward to that day… Princess Julia.”

“Y…Yes…” Julia stammered, her voice barely audible. Her heart fluttered uncontrollably as she watched him turn away, descending back toward the arena floor like a fallen star.

The moment he left the balcony, the Colosseum exploded into life. Cheers roared through the stands, echoing like thunder over the sands of battle.

Septimius had refused the divine Pandora — and declared his desire for Caesar’s own daughter instead.

It was madness. It was audacity. It was the most romantic declaration Rome had ever witnessed.

High above mortal eyes, where the air shimmered with divine presence, the gathering of the gods was far from quiet. Even among immortals, Nathan’s audacious declaration had sent ripples through the heavens themselves.

Athena sat in composed silence, her piercing blue eyes shifting to her left — where Pandora rested.

If “rested” was even the right word.

She was utterly motionless, her stillness eerie, like a statue carved from moonstone.One might have mistaken her for a lifeless doll if not for those eyes — dark violet, glowing faintly beneath her veil, colder than the void between stars. They followed Nathan’s descending figure with silent precision, filled with something too vast and too dangerous to be named.

Even Athena, the goddess of wisdom and restraint, felt a faint chill coil down her spine.She had been ready to intervene, every divine muscle poised to strike should Pandora’s wrath erupt. But nothing happened.

No tremor of rage, no shattering aura, no scream of betrayal.

Only silence.

And that silence was, to Athena, far more terrifying than fury.

It was astonishing — how much control Pandora exerted.

When Nathan had made his outrageous declaration, Athena had almost stood, expecting a divine outburst that would have burned the Colosseum to ash. He had done it deliberately — the mortal boy had provoked Pandora, to test her emotions, perhaps even her heart.It was reckless beyond measure. A dance with death itself.

And yet, the goddess remained still.

Her calmness was not peace — it was the brittle calm before an inevitable storm.

Dionysus, sprawled lazily on his seat nearby, broke the thick tension with a laugh, swirling his goblet of wine.

“Heh. He really knows how to stir a crowd, doesn’t he?” he said, his grin both admiring and mocking. “Though choosing that mortal girl over Pandora? However beautiful this princess might be — that’s suicide wrapped in romance. Maybe he’s just scared to face the aftermath with Pandora after all.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed sharply at him.

Her tone cut through the divine chatter like the edge of a blade. “Careful, Dionysus. Not all of us enjoy tempting fates we cannot control.”

Her warning seemed lost on him. He merely chuckled again and took another long sip, red wine spilling down his chin like blood.

Pandora didn’t react to his words — not a blink, not a tremor. Her silence was suffocating, and even the gods could feel it.

Behind them Hermes leaned forward on his staff, a faint, knowing smile curling at his lips.”It looks like Aphrodite has given him her blessing of charm,” he murmured under his breath.Even he could feel the faint magnetic pull radiating from Nathan — that subtle allure that bent attention toward him. And knowing what little he did about the mortal’s connection to Aphrodite, it didn’t take long for him to piece it together.

“Of course,” he thought, half amused, half intrigued. “The Goddess of Love would favor a man like that.”

Further along the celestial row, Ishtar was far less subtle. She stood, eyes gleaming with predatory delight as she gazed down at the mortal below. Her lips curved into a sultry smile; she wasn’t even trying to hide her hunger anymore. “This man… this mortal… is amazing!” she purred, her voice dripping with sensual energy. “I want him. I must have him!”

Standing nearby, Sif ran her fingers through her long, shimmering hair, sighing dreamily.”If only Thor could be half as romantic,” she muttered wistfully.

“Forget that hammer-swinging fool!” Ishtar laughed, leaning toward her with an impish grin. “Come now, Sif, I can introduce you to Gilgamesh! A king among men — far more satisfying than Thor, believe me.”

Sif’s expression didn’t even twitch. She exhaled slowly, unamused. “I am not a slut like you, Ishtar.”

“Wha—? Who are you calling a slut?!” Ishtar snapped, sitting up indignantly. “I simply enjoy the company of great men! There are so few worthy ones these days!”

“You’re sleeping with them for lust. That’s all it is,” Sif replied dryly, her eyes sharp as frost.

Ishtar folded her arms, pouting. “You should try it one day. It’s a refreshing experience.”

“No thanks,” Sif said flatly, her voice calm as a winter storm.

Their bickering echoed faintly through the divine halls, a strange, absurd counterpoint to the tension still lingering around Pandora’s unmoving figure.

A short distance away stood Amaterasu and Isis, their divine radiance mingling — sunlight and moonlight intertwined. Both had been silent until now, each absorbed in her own thoughts.

Isis tilted her head slightly, her silver eyes narrowing.

“What on earth is that man playing at?” she whispered. Her tone held a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “He taunts Pandora, insults the Emperor, and now claims a princess before the world. Does he have a death wish?”

Amaterasu didn’t answer immediately. Her sun eyes remained fixed on Nathan far below, her expression carefully neutral — but within her chest stirred something unexpected. A faint ache. A subtle, uninvited pang of jealousy that burned like a spark behind her ribs.

She, a sun goddess, envied a mortal girl.