I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 550: Gladiator Tournament: Semi Finals: Septimius VS Isak

After Nathan made his bold declaration — a deliberate dagger meant to pierce Pandora’s composure — he descended slowly back into the arena.

Each step echoed across the floor, deliberate and unhurried, as if the roars of the audience above were nothing more than distant murmurs to him. The faint shimmer of the afternoon sun caught the edge of his pale hair, making it gleam like silver fire against the stone.

He wasn’t simply provoking Pandora. No — part of him wanted to witness something else.

He wanted to see him — Julius Caesar.

He wanted to see that proud, calculating man’s expression falter, his mask of composure crumble ever so slightly as Nathan so shamelessly flirted with his daughter right before his eyes.

Normally, Nathan would have found such antics beneath him. He wasn’t one to indulge in petty satisfaction. But Caesar... Caesar had earned this.

Ever since Alexandria, ever since the chaos of Ameriah’s and Auria’s abduction, the man’s presence had been nothing short of a thorn in Nathan’s side — a shadow constantly meddling in his affairs.

Dragging him out of Tenebria, interfering at every turn.

So yes, seeing the famed Caesar grind his teeth in silence was a small pleasure he would allow himself.

But now... he should focus.

If there was even a need to, that is.

Returning to his position, Nathan’s crimson eyes lifted toward the man awaiting him. A cold, killing glare met his gaze — sharp, seething, unrestrained.

Isak.

That was the man’s name. The rest — his family name, his reputation — none of it mattered.

A classmate of Freja and Elin, that was the only worth about him actually for Nathan.

An arrogant young Swede, barely out of his teenage years, whose ego had inflated beyond reason after receiving a so-called SS-Rank Skill following his summoning.

Nathan’s lips curled faintly.

How familiar.

The way Isak carried himself, the way he looked down on others — it reminded Nathan of another fool from his past.

Aidan.

Another self-absorbed pest who mistook his borrowed strength for greatness.

Perhaps Aidan had even been worse, but the resemblance was striking enough to be amusing.

Still, it didn’t matter.

A SS-Rank Skill, huh?

Nathan tilted his head slightly, studying the man as one might a curious insect.He didn’t pretend to understand how the system of skill distribution worked, but...

”What a waste,” he murmured under his breath, his tone almost too casual.

”What did you say?” Isak barked, his voice rough with barely restrained fury. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword, the veins in his arm twitching. He was trembling — not with fear, but anticipation. The kind of twisted excitement born from wanting to see an enemy broken.

He had been waiting for this moment, itching to cut Nathan apart piece by piece, to humiliate him publicly.

No one — not even back on Earth — had ever made him this angry.

And yet, Nathan hadn’t done anything.

He had barely even spoken to him before this day.

Apparently, his mere existence was enough to make the man seethe.

Isak sneered suddenly, as if recovering his confidence, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

”I’ll show you what a Hero’s power truly is,” he declared, his voice echoing through the arena. ”I’ll make sure everyone here watches you die — that they remember your name only as a fool who dared defy me!”

Nathan regarded him with the same calm, almost bored gaze. His crimson eyes held no anger, no fear — only faint amusement, as if he were observing a child throwing a tantrum.

”If you beg,” Isak continued, ”maybe — maybe — I’ll think about sparing your life. But you’ll have to beg loud enough for everyone to—”

”Can you start already?” Nathan cut in, turning away toward the Roman arbiter as though he were asking to begin a mere practice match.

The arbiter blinked, startled. ”O...Oh! Y...Yes!” he stammered, quickly raising his voice.

”The duel between Septimius and Isak—”

The crowd erupted before he could even finish.

A roaring wave of cheers and excitement crashed across the coliseum, shaking the air.

Only one name truly echoed from their throats — Septimius.

Isak’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened with pure rage as his sword trembled in his grasp, the blade glinting with killing intent.

”—Shall begin!”

The moment the arbiter’s voice fell silent, Isak vanished.

A violent burst of wind erupted from where he once stood — a shockwave rippling across the arena floor as he shot himself toward Nathan like a cannonball. His intent was pure murder; his aura flared crimson, cutting through the air with the roar of burning magic.

In the blink of an eye, he was already in front of Nathan, his blade screaming downward with enough force to shatter stone.

BADOOM!

The impact split the air with a thunderous boom, scattering dust and energy in all directions.

But there was no blood.

No cry.

No resistance.

Isak’s pupils widened.

Nathan wasn’t there anymore.

The white haired young man stood behind him — untouched, unruffled — as though he had merely shifted position without moving a single muscle. His hands rested calmly at his sides, his expression unreadable, crimson eyes glinting faintly in the swirling haze.

”You bastard!” Isak roared, twisting violently. His sword slashed through empty air once again — fast enough to leave a glowing arc behind. But Nathan had already vanished.

The sound that followed was not the clash of steel.

BADAM!

It was the crack of bone.

Nathan’s foot slammed brutally into Isak’s ribs, the blow landing with the precision of a hammer against glass. Metal splintered; the enchanted armor shattered like thin porcelain. The impact launched Isak across the arena like a ragdoll, his body crashing through the air before slamming into the far wall with a dull, sickening thud.

”GUAARGH!!”

He crumpled to the ground, spitting out blood that stained the pristine white of the arena floor. The crowd erupted in a storm of cheers and astonished cries, the name Septimius echoing over and over, drowning the pain in a tidal wave of voices.

Nathan stood still, his gaze cold and detached. His chest rose and fell once, calmly, as he observed the man dragging himself up again.

Isak’s body trembled. He gripped his sword for balance, the blade digging deep into the marble as he forced himself onto one knee, then two. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his breaths ragged and uneven. The left side of his armor had collapsed inward, and the bone beneath it was clearly broken.

Still, pride — or perhaps insanity — burned behind his eyes.

”Hiding like a coward... and hitting me from behind?!” he bellowed, pointing his trembling blade at Nathan. ”You trash!”

Nathan did not answer. His expression did not even flicker. He merely looked at the man — silent, unmoved — as though trying to decide whether responding was worth the effort.

Isak ground his teeth, fury overtaking reason.

”Fine!” he roared, his body suddenly flaring with energy. ”Then I’ll burn you alive!!”

A violent surge of magic exploded from him. His body became a blaze of light, mana coiling around him like living fire, distorting the air. The sheer force of it sent cracks spidering across the ground beneath his feet.

This was the strength granted to the summoned Heroes — gifts of gods to mortals unworthy of wielding them.

And in Isak’s hands, it was nothing but reckless power without discipline.

Nathan sighed quietly, lifting his hand, his eyes narrowing slightly.

”DIE!!!” Isak screamed, swinging his sword down with all the force his body could muster. The weapon came crashing toward Nathan’s head in a storm of blue light.

Nathan’s palm glowed.

A burst of brilliance — golden and pure — exploded outward, engulfing the entire arena in radiance.

Apollo’s Light.

Isak screamed, his vision consumed by searing brightness. ”What—!?”

For a single heartbeat, he saw nothing but white.

Then —

BADAM!

The world snapped back into focus only for agony to follow. Nathan’s fist connected squarely with his jaw, the impact echoing like a thunderclap.

Teeth shattered. Blood sprayed from his mouth in a crimson arc. His body was hurled backward once more, crashing across the arena with brutal force, carving a trench in the marble before slamming against the barrier wall.

”GARGH!!”

More blood spilled, thicker this time. A few broken teeth clattered onto the floor beside him. His vision blurred, his body screamed, every nerve aflame with pain.

How?

How was this possible?

He was a Hero.

He was supposed to be invincible — chosen by the gods themselves!

He struggled to move, rage twisting his expression into something almost feral. ”I... I am a Hero!!” he thought desperately, trying to summon the strength to rise again.

But when he lifted his gaze... his breath caught.

Nathan was already there.

Standing in front of him. Silent. Still.

His shadow fell over Isak like the weight of inevitability, long and dark beneath the blinding light of the arena. His crimson eyes looked down upon him — cold, distant, merciless — not with hatred, but with something far worse.

Disdain.

As if he were gazing at an insect he had already decided wasn’t worth crushing twice.

”You should’ve run away,” Nathan said at last, his voice cutting through the air like a blade of ice.Each word carried a chill that seemed to seep into the bones of everyone watching.”Run away with your tail between your legs... the moment you saw your friend’s buried body.”

Isak froze. The words struck deeper than any weapon. His expression twisted from fury to horror.”W...What...” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Buried body.

Hugo’s body.

The color drained from his face. His grip on the sword faltered.

”Y...You...” His eyes lifted to Nathan’s — those merciless, crimson eyes that reflected neither pity nor rage, only absolute resolve.

And then came the fear.

Not the ordinary kind, but that primal terror that crawls under the skin — the kind that reminds a man that he is mortal.

”RAAAGHHHH!!!”

Isak’s scream tore through the silence as he unleashed everything. His body erupted in violent light, a torrent of magic power spiraling upward like a burning pillar that reached the sky. The arena trembled beneath his rage, the marble floor cracking under the pressure. His entire frame glowed, veins pulsating with overcharged mana.

”I’LL KILL YOU!!!” he roared, hurling himself at Nathan. His speed blurred, leaving streaks of blue and white in his wake.

Nathan didn’t move. He merely observed, his expression faintly curious.

So that’s his SS-Rank Skill? he mused.

The increase in speed and strength was noticeable, yes — but only in the way one might notice a candle flame in daylight. Impressive for others, perhaps. Insignificant to him.

Isak’s fist shot forward like a meteor. Nathan raised his hand and caught it.

A deafening shockwave burst outward. The dust beneath their feet was blown away, the air shimmering from the raw collision of power.

But Nathan didn’t budge.

All that energy — all that divine strength — was caught in the palm of his hand as though it were nothing. His expression didn’t even flicker.

Then his knee came up.

BADAM!

The impact was brutal. Isak’s eyes widened in sheer agony as the air was knocked out of him. His body folded over Nathan’s knee, a guttural cry tearing from his throat.

”GUAAARGH!!”

The blow crushed his ribs; he could feel the bones splinter under his skin.

Nathan didn’t pause. He grabbed Isak by the front of his armor, lifted him effortlessly off the ground, and hurled him back toward the center of the arena.

Isak hit the marble hard, rolling several times before skidding to a halt. His sword clattered away, the crowd’s cheers rising again like a storm.

Nathan’s silhouette emerged from the settling dust, calm and steady. His footsteps echoed — slow, deliberate — as he approached the broken man on the ground.

In an instant, he was in front of him.

”W...WAIT!!!” Isak screamed, panic flooding his voice. He raised a trembling hand as if to shield himself. ”You can’t kill me! I’m a Hero! Do you hear me?! You’ll be executed if you touch me!”

His voice cracked, desperation seeping into every word.

Nathan looked down, expression unreadable. Then he spoke with chilling indifference.”What a coincidence.”

”DIE!!!”

Isak lunged forward with his other hand, his last act of defiance — a coward’s strike, clumsy and filled with fear.

Nathan sidestepped with effortless grace, his movements fluid, almost lazy. In one motion, his hand shot out, gripping Isak’s wrist.

CRACK!

The sound echoed.

Isak screamed, a raw, animal sound as his wrist twisted grotesquely under Nathan’s grip. The sword fell from his fingers — and Nathan caught it before it hit the ground.

”I am also a Hero,” Nathan said softly, his tone devoid of warmth, the words falling like a verdict.

Isak looked up, tears mixing with blood, disbelief warping his face. ”S...Spare me—”

The plea was never finished.

Nathan drove the sword straight into his chest.

The blade pierced through armor, flesh, and bone, sliding cleanly into his heart.

Isak’s eyes widened. His lips quivered soundlessly before his body went limp. A faint gasp escaped him — and then, silence.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

Then Nathan withdrew the blade, crimson running down the silver edge. He lifted it high above his head, the light catching the blood as it dripped onto the marble below.

The crowd erupted.

A deafening roar filled the arena — waves upon waves of voices shouting one name.

”SEPTIMIUS!!! SEPTIMIUS!!! SEPTIMIUS!!!”

The chant rose to the heavens, shaking the very walls, echoing across the city beyond.