I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 499: Gladiator Tournament: Second Round: Septimius Vs Red Wolf!

The sword of Alexander the Great—bestowed by none other than the sun god Ra himself—had accepted Nathan as its new master.For Isis, there could be no other explanation.

Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening as the realization struck her. She simply could not believe what she was witnessing. Nathan—this boy she had thought of as remarkable yet still confined within mortal limits—had been chosen. The divine blade that had once graced the hand of the legendary Alexander now burned with power in his grip.

Her mind reeled. Alexander the Great had stood above all mortals in her eyes, a man whose legend still echoed through history as someone who had transcended the limitations of flesh and bone, a conqueror who had brushed shoulders with the divine and even reached the threshold of demigodhood. Isis had always believed no one, not a single living soul, could rise to such heights again. Nathan, in comparison, had seemed brilliant but ultimately… ordinary. Exceptional, yes—but not that.

Yet here the sword was, resonating with him, enveloping him in Ra’s crimson radiance.

Unthinkable. Unfathomable.

Her heart skipped as she struggled to reconcile her old conviction with the sight before her. Every assumption she had made about Nathan was crumbling. He was not just another mortal. He was not just another passing spark destined to fade. No—the very weapon of Ra had chosen him.

The Red Light of Ra’s Sun bled from the blade like a living flame. The sheer force of it sent shivers crawling down her spine.

“This man is truly something, isn’t he?” Dionysus’s voice broke through the silence, his words laced with amused admiration.

From behind, Hermes smirked knowingly, though his sharp eyes betrayed how intently he was watching Nathan. Perhaps it was because he had drawn closer to the young man earlier—thanks to Aphrodite’s strange request—that he understood the weight of what they were seeing now. Nathan was more than extraordinary; he was singular.

Hermes’s gaze slid toward Athena. The goddess wore a small, rare smile, her expression betraying the flicker of admiration she seldom showed. That alone was enough to make Hermes’s stomach knot.

“Thankfully, she hasn’t noticed who he really is…” he thought uneasily, a bead of sweat trickling at his temple.

He had seen the Trojan War with his own eyes. He remembered the devastation, the ruin, and above all, Athena’s wrath when the Greeks suffered their humiliating fall. If she knew Nathan’s true identity—that he had played no small role in that bitter history—her smile would vanish, replaced by anger that could level nations. For now, though, the disguise crafted for him—Septimius—seemed flawless. Hermes suspected Aphrodite’s hand in that deception. Clever as always, she had even blinded Athena.

Still, there was something disconcerting in Athena’s expression. Admiration. Genuine admiration. Hermes’s lips tightened. It was not love, no, but a rare reverence toward a human being. The last time she had looked at a mortal with such eyes, it had been Perseus, her champion, her chosen hero. But even then, her approval had been restrained compared to this. With Nathan… it was different. Deeper.

“Is it really so surprising?” Hermes mused inwardly. “After all, it’s the same for Aphrodite.”

Yes. Aphrodite, who had once found delight only in Adonis, now seemed to have placed Nathan above even that memory. He was no longer just an intrigue or a fleeting obsession for her. He had become something greater—someone who stirred the hearts of gods themselves.

And yet, while Olympus whispered and speculated, Nathan stood steady, the sword of Ra blazing in his hand.

He turned his eyes upon the colossal wolf before him, its monstrous frame bristling, its eyes narrowing in a feral gleam. For the first time, the beast appeared unsettled, almost… wary.

“You should blame the ones who put you here,” Nathan said, his voice calm, almost pitying. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished from sight.

The wolf reacted instantly, instinct ruling its massive body. Its jaws gaped wide, releasing a torrent of fire hot enough to scorch the heavens. The inferno swept across the arena, a river of flame that could have melted steel.

But Nathan met it head-on.

With a roar of power, the golden blade in his hands flared crimson, the Red Sun’s light cutting through the fire as though it were mist.

BAAADOOM!

The clash erupted in a violent explosion, shockwaves tearing through the arena with deafening force. The earth quaked, the stone floor cracked, and clouds of dust and smoke engulfed everything in sight. The air itself seemed to shudder under the divine impact.

Out of the haze, Nathan shot upward, leaping high above the wolf’s massive head. With the blade raised, he brought it down in a fierce arc.

But the beast was swift. Its colossal tail lashed out, striking him like a battering ram.

The impact hurled him sideways, pain bursting through his ribs. Yet Nathan twisted in midair, refusing to yield. As he was flung past the wolf’s chest, he swung his sword with all his might.

Steel kissed flesh. Divine flame carved through fur and muscle.

The wolf howled, a thunderous sound of agony and fury, its crimson eyes blazing with malice. Blood spilled, steaming as it touched the scorched ground.

The monster’s gaze snapped to Nathan, its rage renewed, its jaws opening wider than before. A cavernous maw lined with fangs glistened, ready to swallow him whole.

Dust and smoke rolled across the arena like a storm cloud, veiling the battlefield in a thick, choking haze. The roar of the wounded wolf echoed through the amphitheater, shaking the air and rattling the marble pillars that loomed above the stands. The beast’s cry was not just of pain but of primal fury, a sound that made the skin crawl of every mortal present.

And yet, amidst the chaos, one figure stood firm.

Nathan emerged from the cloud of dust like a warrior risen from myth, the golden sword in his grip burning with a crimson radiance that seemed to pierce through the shroud. The Red Sun’s power coursed through him, steadying his limbs, sharpening his focus.

From the stands, silence fell—thousands of eyes locked upon him. Even the rowdiest of gladiators, men who had grown numb to blood and violence, had ceased their jeers and chants. They leaned forward now, breath caught in their throats, watching in awe. Septimius—this mysterious warrior—was not merely holding his ground against the monstrous wolf. He was fighting it as though he were born for this moment.

The wolf growled low, its eyes burning like molten coals. It lowered its head, saliva dripping from its fangs, claws gouging trenches into the stone floor. Each step it took shook the ground, the sheer size of its body making Nathan seem impossibly small in comparison.

Then it struck.

With terrifying speed, the wolf lunged, its massive jaws snapping forward to devour him whole. The arena filled with the sound of rushing wind as its fangs came crashing down—each one as long as a man’s arm, sharp enough to pierce steel.

Nathan vanished.

In a flash of crimson light, he reappeared above the beast’s snout, his blade gleaming as he slashed downward. Sparks and blood erupted as the sword carved across the wolf’s muzzle, a spray of hot crimson splattering the sand below. The wolf yelped and recoiled, shaking its head violently, sending arcs of blood flying across the arena floor.

“By the gods…” one gladiator whispered, his knuckles white against the railing as he leaned forward. “He moves like no mortal I’ve ever seen.”

The crowd murmured in agreement, awe spreading like wildfire. From nobles in jeweled robes to hardened slaves forced to fight for their lives, every soul in that arena now stared, united in a rare moment of wonder.

The wolf, enraged by the wound, reared back on its hind legs and unleashed a roar that shook the heavens. Flames burst from its throat, a column of fire soaring upward and spilling across the battlefield like a tidal wave. The heat scorched the air, blistering the skin of those even in the highest seats. Spectators shielded their faces, terrified that the inferno might consume them as well.

But Nathan raised the sword of Ra, and the crimson radiance flared brighter than ever. The Red Sun’s light expanded, wrapping around him like an unbreakable shield. Fire crashed against it, sparks exploding in every direction, but not a single ember touched his flesh.

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

“Impossible!” cried a senator, clutching the edge of his seat.

“He’s… he’s cutting through the fire itself!” a woman exclaimed, her voice trembling.

And indeed, Nathan advanced—step by step, unyielding—as he pressed forward against the wolf’s storm of flame. The golden blade glowed with divine wrath, each swing dispersing the inferno, scattering it into harmless embers. He carved a path through the fire, an unshakable figure wreathed in red light, until at last he leapt forward again, closing the distance.

The wolf swung its claw, a strike strong enough to crush a chariot. The air cracked as it came down, but Nathan met it head-on. Sword clashed against claw, a thunderous impact that sent a shockwave rolling through the stands. The gladiators watching staggered back, shielding their faces from the gale.

For a moment, man and beast stood locked, strength against strength. The wolf’s immense muscles strained, its claws digging into the glowing blade, sparks flying from the clash. Nathan gritted his teeth, his arms trembling, but the power of Ra surged through him, flooding his veins with divine fire.

It would clearly take time to appropriate himself this new power…

With a cry of effort, he pushed back, the golden sword glowing brighter until at last the wolf’s claw was forced aside.

He moved in a blur.

One strike across its chest—blood sprayed in an arc.

A second strike across its shoulder—the beast roared in pain.

A third slash at its hind leg—bone cracked, and the wolf staggered, stumbling back, its body shuddering from the relentless assault.

The crowd erupted in cheers now, voices rising to the heavens. They chanted his name—Septimius! Septimius!—their voices a tidal wave of sound.

The wolf, desperate and furious, unleashed its fury in one last act of defiance. It lowered its head and charged, a beast of flame and shadow, its enormous body shaking the very arena. Dust and debris flew in every direction as it thundered forward, jaws opening wide to tear Nathan apart.

Nathan did not retreat.

He lowered his stance, both hands gripping the hilt of the golden sword. The crimson glow intensified until it was no longer merely light but flame, divine and blinding, a fragment of Ra’s own sun burning in his hands.

The wolf lunged. Nathan leapt.

Time seemed to freeze. The crowd held its breath, the gods themselves watching in silence.

Then—

With a roar, Nathan drove the sword forward.

The golden blade, blazing with the Red Sun’s fury, pierced through the roof of the wolf’s mouth and stabbed deep into its skull. Light erupted from the wound, bursting outward in a blinding flash. The wolf let out a final, heart-shattering cry of agony, its voice echoing like thunder across the heavens.

BADOOOOM!!!

Blood and flesh exploded as the divine power surged through the beast. The wolf’s body convulsed violently, its massive frame tearing apart from within as Ra’s light devoured it. Chunks of burning flesh rained across the arena floor, the air thick with the stench of smoke and blood.

When the explosion finally subsided, silence fell.

Nathan stood amidst the carnage, his body bloodied, his armor scorched, but still upright. The sword of Alexander gleamed in his hand, dripping with the remains of the monster. He didn’t seem the least bit strained as his crimson eyes glinted.

He lifted the blade high into the air, crimson light spilling from it like the dawn breaking over a battlefield.

And then the silence shattered.

The arena erupted in cheers, a deafening roar that shook the sky itself. Thousands of voices rose together, a storm of admiration and triumph. They shouted his name, over and over, until it became a rhythm that pounded in the air—Septimius! Septimius! Septimius!

The sound was so great it seemed the very heavens might break.

And there, bathed in Ra’s divine light, standing among the blood and ruin of the fallen wolf, Nathan raised his sword higher still, a warrior of gods and men alike.

The name of the mercenary Gladiator Septimius that day had been forever etched in the history of Rome.