I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

On the first floor of the Senate Castle stood a vast and solemn hall, one that had once echoed with laughter, music, and the clamor of celebration. It was the great banquet hall—an imposing chamber of marble columns and gilded decorations—used not long ago to honor Julius Caesar’s triumphant return from the successful Alexandrian campaign. Back then, the air had been thick with wine, praise, and political triumph.

Now, however, that same hall felt hollow.

Caesar was not present. Neither were any of his allies. The long tables stood arranged with ceremonial precision, yet untouched, as though the hall itself were holding its breath. The grandeur remained, but the warmth was gone, replaced by an oppressive silence that pressed down on everyone within.

Freja stood among her classmates, her posture stiff, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was not alone in her discomfort. Every one of them looked out of place despite their efforts to appear otherwise. They were dressed in Roman attire—tunics, cloaks, and leather sandals—clothes that felt foreign against their skin. The fabric hung differently than modern garments, and no matter how well-tailored they were, they could not shake the awkwardness of wearing something so distant from their own world.

Still, it wasn’t the clothing that truly unsettled them.

It was her.

Cleopatra’s impending arrival loomed over the hall like a gathering storm.

The thought of facing her made their stomachs churn. Even those who tried to appear calm could not fully hide their tension—the nervous shifting of feet, the restrained glances exchanged between classmates, the shallow breaths taken when the silence grew too loud.

They all remembered how it had begun.

When they had first been summoned years ago, Cleopatra had only just fled Amun Ra. Her brother, Ptolemy, had turned against her, plotting her death, while the nobles of the court bent obediently to the will of Pothinus. The palace had become a nest of treachery, and Cleopatra had been forced into exile.

Back then, Apollodorus had approached them with a request—no, a demand—to take Cleopatra’s side. It had been a pivotal moment, one that could have changed everything.

But Johanna, the teacher they trusted more than anyone back then, had refused without hesitation.

To side with Cleopatra at that time would have meant betraying Ptolemy and openly defying the ruling power of Amun Ra. It would have made them fugitives overnight, hunted by the very empire that had treated them so well. They had been safe, respected, even admired within Amun Ra. Why would they willingly abandon that security to join a fragile resistance with no guarantee of survival?

Johanna’s decision had been logical. Responsible. As a teacher, she had chosen the path that protected her students from unnecessary danger.

Freja and the others had agreed with her.

At the time, Cleopatra’s resistance had been pitifully small. Isolated. Weak. No one—least of all them—had believed she would ever reclaim her throne. The idea that she would rise again as Queen and Pharaoh of Amun Ra had seemed like little more than a distant dream.

And yet, here they were.

Cleopatra had returned. Not as a fugitive, but as a ruler reborn. She had crushed her enemies and reclaimed her empire with ruthless precision.

Worse still, after her victory, they had made another choice—one far more damning in her eyes.

They had declared themselves Heroes of Rome and openly sided with Julius Caesar, effectively deserting Amun Ra. It had been Axel’s decision of course but Cleopatra would not care about excuses. She would not care who had made the call or why.

To her, it would all sound the same.

Cowardice. Betrayal. Convenience.

Standing in the silent hall, Freja felt a cold knot tighten in her chest. The truth was unavoidable: they had refused Cleopatra when she needed allies most, and when she finally rose to power, they had turned their backs on her empire entirely.

No matter how justified their choices had seemed at the time, facing her now meant facing the consequences.

And that was why they were afraid.

Very afraid.

As if guided by instinct, most of Freja’s classmates had gradually gathered around her. She had become the natural center of their small group—the one they trusted the most, the one they instinctively relied upon when fear crept in. More than that, she was the strongest among them, both in battle and in presence, and they all knew it.

That knowledge alone was enough to draw them closer.

“You’re sure everything is going to be alright… right, Freja?” Ida asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound calm.

Freja turned toward her, her expression firm and resolute. “It will be. Don’t worry.”

Her tone left no room for doubt, but the seriousness in her gaze only deepened the unease spreading among the others. Instead of reassurance, it felt like the calm before an unseen storm.

“I don’t know…” Gustav muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I am more worried about facing Cleopatra than I was when we betrayed Julius Caesar.”

“Hey!” Klara immediately nudged his waist, shooting him a sharp glare. “That’s not something you should say out loud.”

Gustav merely shrugged, unrepentant. “I’m just being honest.”

“Well… I kind of agree with him,” Edit added hesitantly, nodding along. “She’s said to be extremely ruthless with traitors. I heard she executed everyone who sided with her brother in Alexandria…”

The moment those words left her mouth, the air seemed to freeze.

One by one, their bodies stiffened. Shoulders tensed. Breaths caught in their throats. That was the last thing any of them needed to hear.

A heavy silence fell over the group.

Freja exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping as she took in the sight of her classmates—wide-eyed, pale, and visibly shaken. Instead of comforting one another, they were only feeding their collective anxiety, each rumor and whispered fear making things worse.

Truth be told, she couldn’t entirely blame them.

She was nervous too.

After all, they were about to face Cleopatra.

Not just any ruler, but one of the most famous—if not the most famous—female figures in Earth’s history. And this world’s version of Cleopatra, the one standing at the pinnacle of power in this world, seemed even more overwhelming than the legends described. Facing such a woman would unsettle anyone.

Still, Freja steadied herself.

She had been through far worse. And she wouldn’t be facing Cleopatra alone.

“B…But Septimius will be here to defend us… right?”

The meek voice belonged to Karine, who looked at Freja with desperate hope shining in her eyes.

At the mention of his name, something visibly changed. One after another, hopeful gazes turned toward Freja, clinging to that single possibility.

Septimius.

The man was a force of nature. A warrior unlike anything they had ever seen. The fact that he, too, was a summoned Hero from Earth only made him feel closer to them—someone who understood. His strength alone inspired a sense of safety, as if his presence could shield them from Cleopatra’s wrath.

“If he’s here, we’ll be fine…”

“He wouldn’t let anything happen to us…”

“Right!” Ida suddenly exclaimed, stepping closer to Freja. “You’re close to him, aren’t you? So when is he coming?!”

Freja froze.

“I…I’m not that close to him…” she stammered, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she quickly looked away.

The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them, even though the truth was far more complicated.

Too complicated.

There was no way she could explain it—not now, not like this. And if Elin were to reveal that she had become his woman as well… Freja’s face grew even warmer at the thought.

The awkwardness would be unbearable.

Her classmates finding out that both of them had become Septimius’s women at the same time?

No.

She wasn’t ready to face that yet.

When Ida’s expression shifted—her brows knitting together in faint suspicion—Freja noticed it immediately. Not wanting doubts to fester, she spoke up at once, her voice firm and confident.

“He said he would come,” Freja stated without hesitation. “He’s already spoken with Cleopatra once, and he’ll speak to her again on our behalf. So don’t worry.”

Her certainty worked like a charm.

“Whew… that’s a relief!”

“Yeah, seriously!”

“And honestly,” another girl added with a nervous laugh, “I kind of want to see him again. I mean… he’s really handsome.”

“Right? Me too!” someone else chimed in eagerly. “Do you think he has a girlfriend?!”

“He does.”

The sudden interruption made everyone freeze.

They turned toward the source of the voice and found Fulvia standing there, arms crossed with unmistakable confidence. Instantly, every boy in the vicinity went rigid, their eyes locked onto her as if pulled by gravity alone.

They had seen Fulvia before, of course—but today, dressed in elegant Roman attire that clung perfectly to her figure, she looked even more stunning. Regal. Commanding. Beautiful in a way that left little room for argument.

“I am, after all, his woman,” Fulvia declared, puffing out her chest proudly.

“R–Really?!” Edith exclaimed, staring at her as though she had just heard her idol had finally entered a relationship.

The remaining girls leaned in as well, curiosity instantly ignited.

“Of course,” Fulvia continued smoothly. “Why would I lie about it? Besides, I’m not the only one. Licinia up there is also his woman. Servilia too.”

She dropped the names without hesitation.

The effect was immediate.

A fresh wave of shock rippled through the group.

“H…He has several girlfriends?!” Ida asked, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Naturally,” Fulvia replied with a casual shrug. “A man of his caliber is meant to have many women.”

Then she turned her gaze toward Freja, a knowing smile forming on her lips.

“Right?”

“Y///Yeah… I guess,” Freja stammered, quickly looking away.

Her eyes drifted toward Licinia… then Servilia.

They were both breathtaking.

Elegant. Confident. Radiant in ways that made Freja’s chest tighten slightly. She couldn’t help but compare herself to them—and the comparison gnawed at her, uninvited.

She knew Nathan cared for her. She knew what they had shared meant something real. Yet insecurity crept in all the same.

There were simply so many women around him.

And when among them stood figures like Cleopatra… like Medea…

It was hard not to feel small.

Hard not to doubt, even for just a moment.

Lost in those thoughts, Freja barely noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere—until murmurs rose near the entrance of the hall. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Heads turned in unison.

A commotion rippled outward like a wave.

Someone had arrived.

Every gaze snapped toward the doors.

It was Cleopatra.