I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 766: Norihiro (1)

Norihiro.

He was truly there, standing above the arena as he applauded.

Nathan lifted his eyes and studied him in silence.

So this was the man.

The strongest and most powerful of the four Daimyo, and the one bold enough to prepare an attack against the north and, beyond that, the Kastorian capital itself. Nathan had heard of him, had pieced together enough to understand the scale of his ambition, but seeing him in person was different. Men like that always were.

Norihiro looked younger than Nathan had expected, perhaps somewhere in his mid twenties. He had light brown hair and blue eyes, features that might have belonged to any nobleman at first glance, but there was nothing ordinary about him. It was there in the way he held himself, in the calm confidence that sat on him so naturally it did not need to be displayed. Compared to Sadamasa and even Yorimasa, his presence was stronger. Sharper. He looked like a man who was used to being obeyed and had long since stopped wondering whether others feared him.

His applause came to a stop.

Then he looked down at Nathan and spoke, his voice carrying cleanly across the arena.

“Congratulations to the winner. Your name?”

Nathan hesitated for the briefest moment.

“Nathan.”

Norihiro gave a single nod, as if committing the name to memory. Then, without another word, he turned and stepped away from the railing.

The announcer quickly recovered from the strange ending and launched into a final speech, his voice once again swelling through whatever magical tool he was using. The crowd answered with loud cheers for Nathan’s victory, still excited by what they had witnessed. Yet Nathan did not feel much satisfaction from it.

It did not feel like a true win.

Shiina had surrendered before their real fight could begin, and that sat strangely with him. He had wanted to test her properly, to understand what she was, to see just how far her strength went once neither of them was distracted by the rest of the arena. Instead, she had stepped aside with a smile and handed him the victory as if the matter no longer interested her.

Nathan turned to look for her one last time.

He scanned the edge of the arena, the shifting bodies of guards and attendants, the exits where the defeated fighters were being guided away.

She was nowhere.

He clicked his tongue softly.

He had wanted to speak with her again, even briefly. But she had vanished with the same ease she had shown in battle, and there was no point lingering in place to chase a ghost.

So Nathan turned and headed for the tunnel leading out of the arena.

The roar of the crowd dulled behind him with each step. The stone passage felt cooler than the heat of the sand outside, and after the noise and dust of the fight, the relative quiet settled heavily around him. He had only gone a short distance when a group of soldiers approached him from ahead.

Nathan slowed, though he had expected this from the moment Norihiro appeared.

One of the soldiers stopped before him and bowed his head just enough to remain respectful without looking servile.

“Norihiro sama wishes to speak with you.”

Nathan gave a small nod.

That was the whole point of this.

Without protest, he followed them.

They led him out from the lower arena passages and through a different route than the one used by common fighters. As they moved through the district, Nathan kept his senses alert, studying their formation, the streets they chose, the number of guards posted ahead and behind. Nothing in their movements suggested a trap. It was all too open, too proper. More importantly, Norihiro did not seem to know who he truly was. If he had recognized him as Ryo, this would have been handled very differently.

That much gave Nathan some room to breathe.

Even so, he remained careful.

By the time they reached Norihiro’s castle, the sun had begun to shift lower in the sky, casting warm light over the walls and tiled roofs. The fortress itself stood with the quiet authority expected of a Daimyo’s seat, broad gates, layered defenses, and enough guards to remind any visitor exactly where power rested. Nathan said nothing as the heavy gates opened before him and the soldiers escorted him inside.

The interior was no less controlled than the exterior.

Servants moved quickly and quietly through polished corridors. Guards stood at fixed points with practiced stillness. Every detail spoke of discipline, wealth, and structure. Nathan was led deeper into the castle until they reached a separate section where a pair of attendants was already waiting.

One of them bowed and informed him that before he could be presented to the Daimyo, he was expected to make himself presentable. In simpler terms, he was to wash, change, and wear the formal clothes that had been prepared for him.

Nathan looked at them for a moment but said nothing.

He was still dusty from the arena, his clothes marked by sweat and sand, so the demand was hardly surprising. In truth, it only confirmed what he already knew.

He had caught Norihiro’s attention.

And now the real reason he had entered that battle royale was finally beginning.

Nathan said nothing when they brought him to the washing room.

The chamber was simple but refined, built of smooth wood and pale stone, with shallow basins already filled and steam drifting softly through the air. A few attendants waited nearby with folded cloths, clean water, and a fresh set of robes laid out with careful precision. Everything had already been prepared before his arrival, which only confirmed that Norihiro had decided to receive him the moment the battle ended.

Nathan stepped forward and began to wash.

The dust of the arena came away quickly, turning the water cloudy as sand, sweat, and traces of the fight slid from his skin. He cleaned himself in silence, his thoughts steady even as the last hour replayed in his mind. The crowd, the clash, Shiina surrendering without explanation, and then Norihiro finally revealing himself above the arena. It had all moved fast, but now that the noise was gone and the quiet had returned, Nathan could feel the weight of what came next settling more clearly over him.

Once he was done, the attendants offered him the clothes prepared for the audience.

They were formal, though not overly extravagant. Fine robes in dark layered fabric, neat and precise, meant to make him presentable before a lord without dressing him above his place. Nathan put them on without complaint. The material sat differently on him than his usual clothes, cleaner and more composed, but it changed nothing beneath the surface. No matter what they wrapped him in, he was still himself.

When he was ready, the attendants stepped back and bowed. A pair of soldiers then returned to escort him farther into the castle.

This time the walk was slower.

Nathan was led through long corridors lit by warm lantern light, past sliding doors painted with scenes of mountains, rivers, and old battles. The floors were polished so well that the glow of the lamps seemed to rest upon them. Servants moved quietly along the edges of those halls and lowered their eyes as he passed. Guards stood at intervals, still and watchful, their armor neat, their hands never far from their weapons.

The deeper they went, the quieter the castle became.

The sounds of ordinary movement faded behind him until only footsteps remained, measured and soft against the wood. Nathan took in every turn, every doorway, every guard post. Habit more than fear. Nothing about the route suggested immediate danger, but he had not lived as long as he had by walking blind into the homes of powerful men.

At last they reached a broader section of the inner residence where the decoration grew more restrained and the space itself seemed to widen. The soldiers stopped before a large set of doors guarded by two men in more elaborate armor than the others. These were not common sentries. Their posture alone made that plain.

One of the escorts turned toward Nathan.

“Wait here.”

Nathan did.

A servant slipped through the doors, and for a few moments there was only silence. Then the doors were pulled open.

The chamber beyond was large and dim in a deliberate way, lit by carefully placed lanterns whose glow gathered over polished wood, carved pillars, and heavy drapery in deep rich colors. The room was not crowded. It did not need to be. Space itself was part of the display. It made the man at the center feel more important by leaving so much emptiness around him.

At the far end of the chamber, on a raised platform, Norihiro sat waiting.

The seat beneath him was not a crude symbol of power but something more refined, closer to a throne than an ordinary chair of rank. He sat with effortless composure, one arm resting lightly, his posture relaxed in a way that only made the authority around him sharper. Even from the entrance, Nathan could feel it. The room belonged to him completely. Everyone inside understood that before a word was spoken.

Nathan stepped forward into the chamber, his eyes fixed on the Daimyo.

For a few moments, nothing happened.

Nathan stood in the middle of the chamber beneath the soft glow of lantern light, his gaze fixed on Norihiro seated upon the raised platform. The Daimyo watched him with calm, unreadable eyes, saying nothing, as if he preferred to let silence do the work first.

Nathan did not lower his eyes.

Then, from somewhere beside the raised seat, a door slid open.

The sound was quiet, but in the stillness of the room it carried clearly enough to pull Nathan’s attention at once. A moment later, footsteps followed, steady and unhurried, neither servant like nor cautious. Whoever was approaching had no reason to fear this chamber.

Nathan turned his head.

And saw Shiina.

For the first time since she had vanished from the arena, he felt something close to real surprise, though only faintly. It did not last long. The truth of it settled almost as quickly as it appeared.

He should have seen it coming.

She stepped fully into the light, and this time she no longer looked like a curious woman who had entered a battle royale on a whim. She wore different clothes now, attire more suited for combat yet far finer than before. The fabrics were darker, richer, cut in a way that allowed movement without sacrificing elegance. Subtle ornament traced the edges of the garment and the guards at her arms, enough to mark status without descending into vanity. Her hair was arranged more neatly as well, and in this setting, beside Norihiro’s throne, she looked entirely in place.

That alone said enough.

She was with him.

Nathan looked at her in silence, and Shiina met his gaze with the same small smile she had worn in the arena, though now it carried a different flavor. There was still amusement in it, but behind that was something cooler, more knowing. In the open sand below the crowd she had looked like an anomaly. Here, inside the Daimyo’s chamber, she looked like someone who belonged exactly where she stood.

So that was it.

That explained far too much at once. Her presence in the battle. Her confidence. The fact that she had not cared about the prize. The ease with which she had vanished after surrendering. Even the strange feeling Nathan had from the first moment he laid eyes on her took on a sharper shape now. She had not been some wandering swordswoman who happened to enter the same arena.

She had been tied to Norihiro from the beginning.

Shiina stopped a short distance from the throne and folded her hands behind her back. There was no sign of embarrassment, no attempt to apologize for the deception. If anything, she looked faintly entertained by the realization passing through Nathan’s mind.