I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

In the royal castle of Kastoria, within the spacious and elegantly appointed royal dining hall, the Heroes of Kastoria had gathered for their midday meal—not all of them, but certainly most of the core group who tended to eat together regularly.

They were seated around several large tables arranged in the traditional Japanese style, though modified slightly for their comfort after three years of adaptation. The tables were beautiful pieces of craftsmanship, made from dark polished wood inlaid with decorative patterns that reflected Kastoria’s unique aesthetic blending of Japanese and fantasy elements.

Servants moved quietly and efficiently around the perimeter of the room, bringing dishes and refilling cups with practiced discretion. The Heroes had long since grown accustomed to being attended by staff—something that had felt profoundly weird and uncomfortable during their first months here but had gradually become normalized through repetition.

Three full years had passed since they had been summoned to Kastoria, pulled from their ordinary lives in modern Japan and thrust into this fantasy world to serve as the kingdom’s champions. In that time, they had all adapted to varying degrees to their new existence—living inside a castle, functioning in a medieval-ish society, wielding magic and combat abilities that would have been impossible back home.

Obviously, every single one of them still desired desperately to return to Earth, to see their families again, to resume the lives that had been interrupted so abruptly. That longing never truly disappeared.

But most of them had consciously stopped dwelling on those thoughts constantly, had stopped allowing themselves to spiral into homesickness every day. Thinking about Earth too much, missing home too intensely—it only made things more painful and harder to endure. So they’d learned to compartmentalize, to focus on the present rather than the impossible distance separating them from everything they’d known.

“Man, this is so boring,” one of the Heroes suddenly complained, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the meal. “Is there seriously nothing else to do around here besides training and eating and more training?”

This was Teiji, known even back in their school days as an exceptionally lazy guy who avoided effort whenever possible. He was attempting to eat rice with chopsticks held awkwardly in his hands, his technique still imperfect after three years. Several grains fell from his chopsticks and scattered across the table as he spoke.

“What exactly do you want to do instead?” One of the girls asked with an exaggerated eye roll, clearly familiar with Teiji’s chronic complaining. “We have the entire castle and training grounds available, we can explore the city whenever we want, we have access to the library—”

“I miss video games,” Teiji interrupted with a genuinely mournful groan, his expression transforming into something approaching grief. “Like, I really, really miss them. By now my parents have probably sold my console, haven’t they? All my saved games, my collection—just gone. Thrown away or sold to some random kid who doesn’t even appreciate what he’s got.”

The thought seemed to genuinely pain him more than most of the actual dangers they’d faced in this world.

“Well, if three full years have actually passed on Earth like we think—and that’s still not entirely certain—then yes, our parents have probably gotten rid of most of our belongings,” Hondou Kazuto said with his characteristic blunt pragmatism. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger while continuing to eat efficiently with his other hand. “They would only serve as painful reminders of children who vanished without explanation. Keeping our rooms as shrines would be psychologically unhealthy for them.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, analytical rather than emotional, as though discussing an abstract problem rather than their families’ grief.

“Don’t say such depressing things, Kazuto-kun,” Yumiko protested with a heavy sigh, her brown hair swaying as she shook her head. “You’re making everyone feel worse.”

She was a brown-haired beauty who had been quite popular back in Japan and remained well-liked here in Kastoria. She was known to be particularly close to Ryuuki.

The mood around the tables had noticeably darkened, several Heroes looking down at their meals with expressions that suggested Kazuto’s words had struck painful nerves.

“I’m simply stating the truth as logically follows from our situation,” Kazuto replied with a slight shrug, apparently unbothered by the emotional impact of his observations. “I think we all need to seriously start considering turning the page on our old lives. Accept that Earth is our past, and Kastoria is our present and future. Constant backward-looking prevents us from fully engaging with our current reality.”

“No. We won’t be turning that page, Kazuto-kun,” Ryuuki spoke up firmly, his voice carrying natural authority that immediately drew everyone’s attention toward him.

As the acknowledged leader of the Heroes—chosen by Amaterasu herself as the strongest among them—Ryuuki’s words carried weight that others’ didn’t. When he spoke seriously, people listened.

He smiled at the gathered group with warm confidence, his expression radiating the optimistic determination that had made him their natural leader.

“If there was a way that brought us here from Earth to this world, then there is definitely, absolutely a way to take us back home,” Ryuuki said with conviction. “Magic exists here. Gods exist here. Divine power capable of pulling us across dimensions exists. That same power, or something equivalent, can return us. We just have to find it or create it ourselves. I refuse to accept that we’re permanently trapped.”

“Well, Princess Kaguya explicitly said there’s no known method for returning us to Earth,” Teiji pointed out pessimistically. “At least not currently. She’s basically divine herself, right? If she doesn’t know how, who would?”

“She said there’s no method available for now,” Ryuuki emphasized, his tone remaining firmly optimistic. “That’s very different from saying it’s impossible. We will find a way eventually. I’m absolutely certain of that. We just need to keep growing stronger, keep learning about this world’s magic systems, keep searching for answers. Giving up isn’t an option.”

“At the current pace of discovery, you’ll probably find that method when we’re all elderly,” a mocking voice interjected with deliberate provocation. “Assuming we even survive that long in this ridiculously dangerous world.”

This was Rena, speaking with her characteristic haughty disdain.

As always, she cut quite a striking figure with her distinct blonde hair—unusual among their predominantly Japanese group—and bright brown eyes that sparkled with intelligence and arrogance in equal measure. Her expression carried that perpetually superior look she’d perfected, beautiful in a way that demanded attention while simultaneously seeming to look down on everyone around her.

Even back on Earth, Rena had been what people called an “oujo-sama”—a wealthy young lady from an elite family who carried herself with aristocratic bearing and made sure everyone knew she was above the common rabble.

“Not everybody is as callously indifferent about their parents as you apparently are, Rena,” another voice shot back sharply, defending Ryuuki’s position.

This was Arima Ayaka, another breathtakingly beautiful member of their group but with an entirely different presence than Rena’s cold elegance.

Ayaka had long black hair tied back in a practical ponytail and intense black eyes that seemed to see through people’s pretenses. She was also notably Nathan’s stepsister, along with her twin Akane—though absolutely no one in the group knew about that connection except Rena, who had discovered the information accidentally two years ago during the Kastorian-Tenebrian Battle on the borders.

Rena turned her sharp gaze directly toward Ayaka, the air between them practically crackling with mutual dislike that had been building over three years of forced proximity.

“You see, Ayaka-san, I’ve chosen to move forward with my life rather than remaining paralyzed by nostalgia,” Rena replied with a fake, saccharine smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “My parents would have wanted me to adapt and thrive rather than wallow in helpless misery. But you’re perfectly welcome to stay here crying into your pillow every night if that’s what makes you feel better.”

The condescension dripped from every word.

“Perhaps your parents simply don’t particularly want to see you again either, Rena-san,” Ayaka shot back with equally sharp venom. “That would certainly explain why you’ve adapted so easily to being permanently separated from them. No great loss on either side.”

Several people around the table drew sharp breaths.

“Don’t start this again, you two,” Yumiko interjected quickly with an exhausted sigh, recognizing the signs of an escalating argument that would poison the entire meal. “We’re all stressed and homesick in different ways. There’s no need to tear each other apart over it.”

“I was simply stopping Rena from souring everyone’s mood with her usual superior attitude,” Ayaka said with an elegant shrug, as though she’d been performing a public service. “Someone needs to call her out occasionally.”

“Pretty sure Teiji actually started this entire depressing conversation by bringing up Earth and video games,” Kazuto observed dryly, pushing his glasses up again. “So technically any blame should go to him.”

“Hey! I just genuinely want to go back home, okay?” Teiji protested defensively, his hands gesturing emphatically and nearly knocking over his cup. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—I love this place in some ways. The magic is cool, the castle is incredible, the food is usually pretty good. But come on! Japan will always be better! Modern civilization, technology, entertainment—nothing here compares!”

He turned suddenly toward one of the quieter members of their group.

“What do you think, Akane-san?” Teiji asked, his voice taking on a slightly different quality as he addressed her. “You miss home too, right?”

He was looking at Ayaka’s twin sister, another exceptionally beautiful young woman who represented the absolute epitome of classical Japanese beauty. Akane had the same long, lustrous dark hair as her sister but styled with elegant bangs that framed her face perfectly, and the same striking black eyes that seemed calm and deep as still water.

She had been eating peacefully and quietly beside Ayaka throughout the entire debate, seemingly content to simply listen rather than participate in the increasingly heated discussion.

When Teiji’s direct question came to her, Akane raised her gaze slowly to meet his eyes. Teiji immediately blushed and looked away, apparently flustered by the direct eye contact—a reaction she seemed to inspire in many of the male Heroes despite doing nothing to deliberately encourage it.

“I don’t particularly mind staying here,” Akane said simply, her voice soft but clear.

Her answer was characteristically brief and honest, offering no elaborate explanation or justification.

The truth was that Akane had originally been an American citizen before circumstances had brought her to Japan, where she’d never truly felt she belonged or fit in. The cultural expectations, the social dynamics, the entire environment had felt foreign despite her Japanese heritage. So she didn’t really miss Japan specifically, except perhaps for the relative peace and safety compared to this dangerous fantasy world.

It was essentially the same situation for Ayaka—both twins had complicated relationships with the concept of “home” that made them less desperate to return than some of their classmates.

Hearing that statement directly from Akane—one of the undeniably strongest among them both in combat ability and emotional composure—definitely had a significant impact on the group’s mood.

Ayaka didn’t seem surprised by her twin’s position either, and her deliberate silence spoke volumes about her own thoughts on the matter. She clearly felt the same way, just hadn’t bothered articulating it as directly.

She did feel genuinely bad for their family back in Japan—primarily their grandparents who had taken responsibility for raising them after their parents’ situation had become complicated. But those grandparents had other family members as well, other connections and support systems. They would be sad, certainly, but they would ultimately be fine without the twins.

Without their mother and father having ever been particularly present in their lives anyway, both sisters had adapted remarkably well to this new world. They’d found their footing here in ways they never quite had in Japan.

Teiji fell into disappointed silence hearing Akane’s calm declaration, his shoulders slumping visibly.

He had really, desperately hoped that his enormous crush would agree with his perspective, would share his longing to return to Earth. But she had entirely different thoughts about their situation, and there was nothing he could say to change that fundamental difference in their outlooks.

Rena observed this exchange with sharp, calculating eyes, and a knowing expression slowly spread across her beautiful features. Unlike the others, she understood exactly why both sisters didn’t particularly mind staying in this world, why they’d adapted so smoothly and showed such limited desire to return home.

She scoffed audibly, the sound dripping with mockery and barely contained amusement at a private joke only she fully understood.

“Of course both of you wouldn’t mind staying here,” Rena said with provocation, her voice carrying clearly across the dining hall. “After all, your dear onii-chan and onii-sama is conveniently around to pamper you whenever you want. That must make this world so much more tolerable than boring old Japan, doesn’t it?”

The effect was instantaneous.

Ayaka’s face immediately flushed a deep, vivid red that spread from her cheeks down her neck. Her eyes widened with a mixture of mortification and fury, her hands clenching into fists on the table before her.

Akane, normally so composed and unreadable, visibly stiffened in her seat. Her calm expression cracked slightly, a faint pink tinge appearing on her pale cheeks as her eyes flickered with something that might have been panic.

“Onii-chan? Onii-sama? What’s that supposed to mean, Rena-san?” Yumiko asked with genuine confusion, not understanding the reference or why it had provoked such a dramatic reaction.

Everyone around the tables turned to look at Rena with curious expressions, clearly wondering what she was implying with those terms. The Japanese words for “older brother” carried familial significance that didn’t quite make sense in this context—unless there was information the group wasn’t aware of.

“Oh~ Nothing really important,” Rena replied with a wickedly satisfied smirk, drawing out her words while refusing to elaborate. She was clearly enjoying Ayaka’s murderous glare and the acute embarrassment radiating from both twins. “Just a small, intimate detail about their personal situation. Nothing anyone else needs to concern themselves with.”

The vague non-answer only intensified everyone’s curiosity, multiple Heroes leaning forward with questions forming on their lips.

Ayaka looked like she wanted to leap across the table and strangle Rena, her embarrassment warring with rage at having something so private weaponized against her in public. Her mind raced with how to respond, how to deflect or deny without making the situation worse.

Akane simply sat frozen, her usual serene composure completely shattered, clearly wishing she could disappear entirely rather than endure whatever interrogation was about to follow.

The tension in the room was building to an uncomfortable crescendo, the atmosphere thick with unspoken questions and implied secrets—

Thankfully, at precisely that moment, the dining hall’s doors opened with perfect timing to interrupt the increasingly awkward situation.

Princess Haruka stepped through the entrance, her presence immediately commanding attention and derailing whatever confrontation had been brewing. She carried baby Ryuuji securely in her arms, the infant making soft cooing sounds as he looked around at all the unfamiliar faces with wide, curious eyes.