I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 761: To The Battle Royal of the Shogun Festival

After entrusting Sakura and Akiko to Hanzo, Nathan stepped out of his room and pulled the door shut behind him.

The inn was louder downstairs. Voices drifted up through the stairwell in thick waves, mixed with bursts of laughter, the scrape of stools across old wood, and the warm, bitter smell of sake. By the time he reached the bottom step, the tavern had opened before him in full. Lantern light bathed the room in gold, catching on rising steam from bowls of food and the polished necks of bottles passed from hand to hand.

It did not take long for him to spot Shigeru and the others.

They were gathered around the same table as always, relaxed as if the world outside did not concern them in the slightest. Sake cups were scattered between them, and Sana was laughing at something Yuwa had just said, while one of the others leaned back so far on his stool it looked as though he might topple over at any second.

For a brief moment Nathan considered slipping past without being noticed.

That hope died quickly.

“Hey, Nathan!” Sana called, lifting a hand the moment she saw him. “Where are you going?”

Nathan stopped and looked in their direction. “I have a competition to take part in.”

“A competition?” Yuwa repeated, eyes lighting up with immediate interest.

Nathan gave a small nod. “A battle royale.”

That was the simplest way to say it.

He had no interest in the event itself. He did not care about spectacle, cheering crowds, or whatever prize they were offering to lure men into humiliating themselves in front of the city. But Norihiro would be there, or at least word of the winner would reach him quickly. If Nathan crushed everyone in the arena, it would be far easier to force a meeting than wandering through layers of guards and ceremony.

Sometimes the fastest path was the loudest one.

“Oh, right,” Shigeru said, grinning as if Nathan had just reminded him of something amusing. “You were serious. You are really going through with it?”

Nathan looked at him flatly. “Why do you think I registered?”

That only made Shigeru laugh harder. He tipped back the rest of his sake in one long swallow, then slammed the empty bottle down on the table and pushed himself to his feet.

“Alright,” he said. “We are coming with you.”

Nathan frowned. “What?”

“To cheer for you, of course,” Yuwa said, already giggling at his expression.

“Yeah,” Sana added at once.

The others nodded in agreement, far too eagerly.

Nathan looked from one face to another, half expecting someone to admit this was a joke. No one did.

They truly meant it.

There was something almost absurd about them. They moved through life with the ease of people who obeyed only their own moods, doing whatever pleased them in the moment. Yet for all their carelessness, Nathan sensed no hidden malice in them. No scheming glances. No quiet selfishness tucked beneath their smiles.

They simply wanted to come.

It almost amused him.

And more than that, it was useful.

If they followed him into town, it meant fewer people hanging around near Sakura and Akiko currently locked in the room right next theirs. That alone was reason enough not to argue too hard.

“Do whatever you want,” Nathan said at last, already turning toward the door.

The group got up in a noisy shuffle of sandals, laughter, and half finished drinks. Shigeru tossed a few coins onto the table and joined him, the others spilling after them like a cheerful little storm.

They stepped out into the street together.

The late afternoon had started to lean toward evening, and the town had grown even busier than before. Merchants called from their stalls, children ran between adults with impossible speed, and colorful banners stirred overhead in the warm breeze. Somewhere in the distance came the dull roar of a crowd, enough to suggest that the arena was already drawing spectators.

As they walked, Nathan kept his gaze ahead.

“So, Nathan,” Shigeru said after a while, falling into step beside him. “What exactly are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

Shigeru gave him a sideways look, a lazy smile still on his face from the drink. “That is a terrible lie.”

Nathan did not answer.

“You do not look like someone excited for a tournament,” Shigeru went on. “You look like a man on his way to settle something. Is this part of the reason you came here?”

Nathan finally glanced at him. “So that is why you are following me. You are curious.”

“Exactly,” Shigeru said without shame. “I know you are strong. I felt that much already. You are not some ordinary traveler passing through town. A man like you does not enter a battle royale for fun, so naturally I want to see what happens.”

Nathan let out a dry breath that almost became a laugh. “And you expect me to tell you?”

“Not at all,” Shigeru replied. “But I can still watch.”

Nathan looked ahead again, weaving past a pair of men carrying baskets between them.

“You really have nothing better to do with your life?”

“Not at the moment.” Shigeru spread his hands. “Looks like I will be staying here longer than I planned. I may as well find something entertaining.”

Nathan studied him from the corner of his eye.

He doubted Shigeru realized how transparent that sounded.

It was not really about entertainment. Not entirely.

It likely had more to do with Sakura.

He had given her his word. If she decided she wanted to leave, he would help her. Until then, he was lingering nearby, pretending he was simply taking his time. Nathan could see through that well enough.

It was a troublesome sort of loyalty, but loyalty all the same.

Shigeru was not a bad man. Reckless, loud, and annoyingly curious, yes. But not bad. He cared for the people around him. He kept an eye on his group even while joking, and he cared for Sakura in his own clumsy way, not only because she was his half sister, but because he had decided she mattered.

Nathan could respect that.

Even if he had no intention of admitting it aloud.

“Whatever,” he said.

Shigeru grinned, apparently satisfied with even that much.

Nathan said nothing more after that.

There was no point.

Let Shigeru watch all he wanted. Let all of them watch. Once the fighting started, none of them would learn much from it beyond the obvious. Nathan would enter the arena, cut through the rabble they called competitors, and force this city to notice him.

If that was what it took to get Norihiro’s attention, then so be it.

Ahead of them, the noise of the crowd swelled louder.

The arena was close.

By the time Nathan reached the arena entrance, the noise had grown into a constant living thing.

Voices rolled through the air in great waves, rising and falling with bursts of laughter, shouts, and the distant pounding of drums. The building itself stood like a beast of wood and stone in the middle of the district, its broad gates open to swallow fighters and spectators alike. Colorful banners hung from the outer walls, stirring in the breeze, while streams of people pressed toward different entrances under the watch of armed guards.

At the foot of the steps, Nathan finally split off from Shigeru and the others.

They were directed toward the public stands, still talking among themselves, already excited to watch the spectacle unfold. Sana waved at him before disappearing into the crowd, while Yuwa called out something cheerful that Nathan ignored on purpose. Shigeru only gave him a knowing grin before turning away with the rest of his group.

Nathan did not look back after that.

He had his own path to take.

The entrance for participants was set apart from the others, less crowded but far more controlled. Guards stood on either side of the gate with the stillness of men trained to notice everything. Their eyes swept over each person who approached, measuring posture, weapons, and intent before allowing them through.

When it was his turn, Nathan stepped forward without hesitation.

One guard held a wooden tablet covered in names while the other looked him over from head to toe.

“Name.”

“Nathan.”

The guard scanned the list, ran a finger down several lines, then gave a short nod. “You are registered.”

That was all.

No ceremony. No warning. No final chance to reconsider.

They moved aside and let him pass.

Inside, the noise of the outer crowd dulled, replaced by a different kind of tension. Nathan was led through a corridor wide enough for several men to walk shoulder to shoulder, its walls lined with lanterns and dark support beams. The air smelled of polished wood, oil, and the faint sour trace of sweat. It was the smell of waiting, of nerves, of men preparing themselves for violence while pretending not to fear it.

The corridor opened into a large preparation hall.

Nathan took in the room with one slow glance.

Participants were gathered everywhere.

Some stood alone in silence with their eyes lowered, conserving energy. Others talked loudly in little groups, hiding unease behind swagger. A few were already stretching their shoulders and wrists, testing their footing, rolling their necks as if they were preparing for war rather than a public contest.

There were all kinds.

Broad shouldered brutes with arms thick as tree limbs. Lean men with the hungry look of street fighters. Weathered ronin whose faces carried the hardness of years spent living by the blade. Young fools trying too hard to appear fearless. Men in decent clothing who looked like they had entered on a whim, and others whose rough faces and scarred knuckles suggested they had never lived far from trouble.

Nathan was certain some of them were criminals.

It hardly mattered.

A battle royale drew every sort of man who thought himself harder to kill than the next.

His eyes moved across the hall again.

There had to be at least two hundred participants already gathered inside, perhaps more with those still being processed at the entrance. The room felt crowded in a way that made the air heavier. Bodies shifted constantly. Voices overlapped. Wood clacked against wood at the weapon racks while attendants barked instructions no one fully listened to.

Near one side of the hall stood several men built like wrestlers, thick around the waist and chest, with the heavy grounded posture of sumo. On the opposite side were rangier fighters with narrow hips and quick hands, the kind who would rely on speed and angles rather than force. The contrast was almost absurd.

For a brief moment, Nathan found the whole scene faintly amusing.

It looked less like an honorable competition and more like someone had swept half the province together and decided to let them crash into each other for entertainment.

Along the walls, attendants oversaw the available weapons.

No sharpened steel had been allowed. Racks were filled with wooden swords, staffs, spears with blunted tips, and other dulled training weapons meant to imitate the real thing without openly inviting slaughter. The rules, at least on the surface, forbade killing.

Nathan almost scoffed at the thought.

He remembered well what the man at registration had told him. If someone died by accident, it would not be the arena’s responsibility. He had been advised to think carefully before entering, which was simply a more polite way of saying that once he stepped into the ring, his life was his own problem.

That was the truth beneath the rule.

No killing was a fine phrase to write down for nobles and officials. Reality was something else entirely. A wooden blade swung with enough force could crush a skull. A staff could break a throat. One bad fall in a chaotic melee could be all it took. Intent did not matter much once bodies started colliding and panic spread through the mass.

So yes, men could die here.

Anyone with sense knew it.

Nathan walked deeper into the hall, ignoring the restless energy around him. Some fighters were selecting weapons with care, weighing them in their hands as if trying to hear what each piece of wood could become. Others chose to fight empty handed, flexing their fingers and striking at the air with short bursts of speed.

He paused for a moment, considering.

Fists would be enough for most of them.

Too much, perhaps.

In the end he turned toward the swords.

A simple wooden sword would do.

He reached the rack and picked one up, testing the balance with a small turn of his wrist. It was lighter than a real blade and clumsier in its distribution of weight, but serviceable. More importantly, it would help him restrain himself.

That, more than anything, was the real inconvenience.

Nathan did not want to kill anyone here.

He had not come for bloodshed, and despite what many would assume from watching him fight, he was not some beast that delighted in cutting down whoever stood in his way. He needed to win, nothing more. He needed to force attention onto himself, not drown the arena in corpses because lesser men mistook recklessness for courage.

Still, controlling his strength in the middle of a mob would be annoying.

As he thought that, he heard footsteps draw near from his right.

They were light, measured, and confident.

Not the dragging swagger of a fool. Not the uncertain approach of someone looking to provoke a stronger man for sport. These steps carried no hesitation at all.

“Need any advice?”

Nathan did not turn immediately. His hand remained around the wooden sword.

“No.”

A pause followed.

Then the voice returned, touched with faint amusement. “You are sure?”

This time Nathan looked.

For the smallest fraction of a second, he went still.

A woman stood beside him, close enough to suggest intent and calm enough to make it clear she was not worried by his reaction. She was striking at first glance, not only because she was very beautiful, but because everything about her seemed precise. Her hair was a deep dark blue, gathered into a ponytail secured neatly behind her head. Her eyes were a vivid red that caught the lantern light with unsettling clarity. She wore a sleeveless dark blue kimono over wide hakama pants, simple enough not to demand attention and yet impossible to ignore once seen.

Nathan stared at her in silence.

It was not the sort of silence born from admiration.

It was recognition.

Not of her identity, but of what she was.

Dangerous.

The realization came to him at once, instinctive and immediate. She looked composed, almost casual, like any skilled fighter waiting for the match to begin. But beneath that stillness was something else, something dense and controlled, a presence so sharp that Nathan felt it the moment he truly looked at her.

Strong.

Very strong.

That was what made him pause.

Yorimasa or Morosuke, neither had stirred this same response in him. Neither had made some quiet animal part of his senses tighten in warning.

This woman did.

Not because she was threatening him openly.

Because she did not need to.

She tilted her head slightly when he kept watching her, her expression caught somewhere between curiosity and amusement. Nathan realized his stare had sharpened into open caution, but he did not bother softening it.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Nathan answered at once.

“Who are you?”

The bluntness of it might have sounded rude to anyone else, but he had no interest in dressing the question in politeness. A person like this did not appear out of nowhere without reason. Not in a place like this.

He was very wary.

For a moment, she only looked at him.

Then a small grin touched her mouth.

“You can call me Shiina.”