I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Are you sure about this, brother?” Pollux’s voice carried a rare tension as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The two of them surged toward Khillea at a breakneck pace, the pounding of their horses’ hooves echoing like distant thunder across the battlefield.

Castor glanced at him with a teasing grin, his confidence as unshakable as ever. “Are you worried, Pollux? About a woman, of all things?” he quipped, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.

“She isn’t just any woman,” Pollux replied, his voice sharper than usual. His grip on the reins tightened as his gaze flicked to their quarry.

Ahead of them, Khillea moved through the chaos like a specter of death, her every action precise and devastating. She dispatched her foes with an almost terrifying efficiency, cutting them down as if they were nothing more than blades of grass before a scythe. Each motion was deliberate, economical, and utterly devoid of hesitation.

“I’m not blind, brother,” Castor shot back, his tone more serious now as his gaze followed Khillea’s deadly path. “I see what she’s capable of. But if we don’t stop her, who will?”

“Hector is here,” Pollux said, his tone quieter, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to his brother.

Castor barked a laugh, though it lacked his usual warmth. “Now you’re truly scared, aren’t you?”

Pollux didn’t answer. His silence spoke volumes, far more than words ever could. Unlike Castor, Pollux bore the blood of Zeus, an inheritance he shared with their cousin Helen. It gave him heightened instincts, a sharper awareness of danger—especially danger that loomed over Castor.

Deep down, Pollux didn’t just fear Khillea; he feared for Castor. Though his brother was formidable, even fearless, Pollux understood all too well the risks they faced. If he could help it, he wanted to keep Castor away from someone like Hector.

As they drew closer to the carnage, Khillea’s gaze finally turned toward them. Both men felt the weight of her eyes like a physical blow. A chill crawled up their spines, their skin prickling with goosebumps as they faced the full brunt of her aura. It was an aura forged in blood and battle, the kind of presence only a warrior who had taken tens of thousands of lives could possess.

Still, they were warriors too.

With a shared look of unspoken determination, they urged their horses forward. The world seemed to blur around them as they charged toward Khillea, who stood like an unshakable pillar atop her chariot.

Castor’s twin blades gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the dark storm brewing in Khillea’s eyes. Pollux followed close behind, his spear poised like a serpent ready to strike.

Khillea didn’t flinch. With a flick of her wrist, her blade arced through the air to meet their assault. The steel of her sword clashed against Castor’s twin blades with a sound that reverberated like thunder. Sparks danced in the air, and Castor gritted his teeth as he felt the raw power behind her strike. She was stronger than anyone he’d ever faced.

Pollux lunged from the side, aiming to exploit the momentary distraction. His spear shot forward with deadly precision, but Khillea’s reflexes were inhuman. Without looking, she shifted her weight and parried the spear with her armored forearm, the impact sending a shockwave through Pollux’s arms.

“Weak,” Khillea muttered coldly.

Castor snarled and surged forward again, his blades moving in a blur. Each strike was fast, precise, and relentless, a storm of steel aimed to overwhelm. Khillea met his assault with ease, her movements fluid and calculated. It was as if she could read his every intention before he acted, and Castor’s frustration grew with each failed attempt to break through her defenses.

Pollux circled around, seeking an opening. He watched her closely, analyzing her movements, her patterns. Khillea’s fighting style was almost unnatural in its efficiency. There were no wasted motions, no unnecessary flourishes. Every strike, every block, every step was calculated for maximum effect.

“Castor, fall back!” Pollux shouted, his voice cutting through the din of battle. “We need to regroup!”

“No!” Castor barked, his eyes blazing with defiance. “She’s just one woman! We can take her!”

Khillea’s smirk deepened, and she moved with sudden, terrifying speed. In a single fluid motion, she disarmed Castor of one blade, sending it spinning through the air. Her foot lashed out, striking his chest and sending him staggering backward. Pollux seized the opportunity, his spear flashing toward her unprotected side. But Khillea twisted her body at the last moment, and the spear grazed harmlessly off her armor.

“Together, then,” Pollux growled, stepping beside his brother. “We attack together.”

Castor nodded, his breath ragged but his resolve unbroken. The brothers charged in unison, their weapons a blur of steel and fury. They moved like a single entity, their attacks coordinated and relentless. For a moment, it seemed as though they might have the upper hand. Khillea was forced to retreat a step, then another, as she deflected their blows.

But then she changed.

The smirk vanished from her face, replaced by a cold expression. Her movements became even faster, her strikes even more precise. She fought with an elegance that was almost otherworldly, and the brothers found themselves on the defensive. Every time they thought they had found an opening, she would counter with devastating efficiency.

“You fight well,” Khillea said, her voice calm despite the chaos around her. “But you lack the strength to see this through.”

Her words stung, but Castor and Pollux pushed forward. Castor’s blade found its mark, on her skin but nothing happened as if her skin was an armor itself. Pollux thrusted his spear on her chest but the armor deflected it easily as well.

Khillea narrowed her eyes and struck back.

With a roar that shook the battlefield, she unleashed a flurry of attacks. Her blade moved with blinding speed, a whirlwind of death that neither brother could fully counter. Castor barely managed to block a strike aimed at his neck, the force of the blow sending him reeling. Pollux lunged to protect his brother, but Khillea’s sword met his spear with such force that it snapped the shaft in two.

Pollux stumbled, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at the broken weapon in his hands. Khillea didn’t give him time to recover. She closed the distance in an instant, her blade slashing across his chest. Blood sprayed into the air as Pollux fell to his knees, clutching the wound.

“Pollux!” Castor shouted, his voice raw with anguish. He surged toward Khillea, his remaining blade a blur of motion. He fought with everything he had, his attacks fueled by desperation and fury. But Khillea was unrelenting. She blocked his strikes with ease, her expression unreadable.

“You should have listened to your brother,” she said coldly. Her sword arced through the air, and Castor barely managed to duck under the strike. He rolled to the side, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

Pollux tried to rise, his body trembling with the effort. “Castor… run…” he rasped, blood dripping from his lips.

“No!” Castor shouted, his voice breaking. “I won’t leave you!”

Khillea’s eyes narrowed, and she moved toward Castor with purpose. He raised his blade, determination etched into his features. “If you want him, you’ll have to go through me,” he growled.

Khillea tilted her head, her gaze piercing. “So be it.”

The final clash was brutal. Castor fought with everything he had, his strikes wild and desperate. But Khillea was unstoppable. She parried his attacks with ease, her movements precise and deadly. Slowly, inexorably, she drove him back.

In one swift motion, she disarmed him completely, his blade clattering to the ground. Castor fell to his knees, his chest heaving as he glared up at her. “Do it,” he spat, defiance burning in his eyes.

Khillea raised her blade, the sunlight glinting off the steel. For a moment, she hesitated, her gaze lingering on him. Then, without a word, she brought the sword down.

Pollux screamed as he watched the blade pierce Castor’s chest. Blood spilled onto the ground, staining the earth beneath them. Castor’s body crumpled, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Khillea withdrew her blade and stepped back, her expression unreadable.

Without wasting time, Khillea turned her sword toward Pollux, who lay groaning on the ground. Though he was hailed as the more invincible of the two brothers, the weapon she wielded was forged by Hephaestus himself, its blade shimmering with a divine brilliance that made mortals quiver in awe.

She brought her sword down, intending to finish him, but her instincts screamed danger. With a swift motion, she twisted her weapon, deflecting an arrow aimed directly at her head. The projectile clanged off her blade, ricocheting harmlessly into the dirt. Khillea’s gaze snapped toward the archer, and there she saw her—Atalanta, poised and resolute, her bowstring taut with another arrow ready to fly.

“You again,” Khillea muttered under her breath, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. Before she could make another move, the earth beneath her feet trembled slightly, and a shadow fell across her.

Another warrior had landed between her and Pollux, her arrival marked by a dramatic flourish of her cape and the gleam of steel in her hands. The newcomer’s presence was commanding, her armor bearing the intricate designs of a queen and her eyes gleaming with battle-lust.

“I’m glad to see another woman strong enough to stand against these arrogant Greek kings,” the warrior declared, her voice laced with both amusement and challenge.

Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons, grinned as she leveled her sword at Khillea. The blade glinted in the sunlight, its edge razor-sharp and eager for blood.