I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Why is Zeus not doing anything?!” Hera’s voice thundered across the sky above the Trojans grounds, her rage barely contained as she watched the battle below. Her fingers clenched into tight fists, her knuckles turning white. Another hour had passed, and yet Nathan was still standing, still fighting—matching Khillea blow for blow with a tenacity that defied all logic.

A sense of dread settled deep in her chest, an instinctual warning that something was not right. She had a bad feeling—no, a terrible feeling—about all of this.

“What do you expect Zeus to do?” Athena asked with a weary sigh, her expression calm but thoughtful as she observed the ongoing clash.

“Kill him, of course!” Hera spat, her frustration reaching a fever pitch. “This human is dangerous! He must be eradicated before he grows into a threat we can no longer control!”

Athena merely shook her head, the golden glow of her eyes reflecting the chaotic battle below. “I don’t think my father will intervene.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “Why not? He is clearly a menace, and we don’t even know how he attained such strength. He’s dangerous, Athena. You of all people should see that.”

Athena folded her arms, her expression unreadable. “My father has already returned to Olympus,” she said slowly, “and yet he has not spoken a single word about Nathan. That silence speaks volumes.”

Hera’s breath hitched, and she took a step forward, her frustration mounting. “Are you saying… Zeus can’t do anything?” She sounded dumbfounded, as though the idea was too ludicrous to be real. “He is the King of Olympus! The ruler of all gods!”

Athena met her gaze, her expression unusually tense. “That may be true, but even my father has limits. There are some gods and goddesses… even he cannot control.”

For the first time, doubt flickered in Hera’s eyes. The very thought that someone could stay Zeus’s hand, that a divine force existed beyond his reach, unsettled her. She could only assume that a god—or perhaps a goddess—had taken a special interest in Nathan. And whoever they were, they were powerful enough to silence Zeus himself.

Hera clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The thought infuriated her, but she could do nothing about it.

Instead, she turned her gaze back to the battle, watching, waiting. She still had faith in Khillea. There was no way she could lose—Hera knew her strength better than anyone. She had seen her triumph over impossible odds before.

She would not lose.

And yet, the battle had escalated beyond anything they had expected.

The clash of power had reached a terrifying crescendo. Nathan and Khillea moved at such speeds that they had become little more than blurs of motion, their blows striking with such force that the very air trembled. Even Agamemnon, the self-proclaimed leader of the Greek forces, could no longer follow their movements.

Khillea’s entire body burned with golden flames, each flicker of light pulsing with divine might, turning her into a radiant warrior bathed in the brilliance of the gods. Opposing her, Nathan stood wreathed in ice, an unnatural cold radiating from his form. The very ground beneath his feet had frozen solid, tendrils of frost creeping outward, cracking and consuming the earth in a deathly embrace. Those standing behind him shivered, feeling the creeping touch of his unnatural chill against their skin.

Khillea exhaled sharply, golden mist escaping her lips. Her piercing gaze locked onto Nathan’s, her body humming with unrestrained power. And yet… she hesitated.

Why?

She had sworn to eradicate all Trojans. She had burned with vengeance ever since Patroclus fell, her grief an unquenchable fire in her soul. And yet, as she looked into Nathan’s icy, determined gaze, she felt… doubt.

It was as if he wasn’t fighting with everything he had. As if he was holding something back.

A strange, unfamiliar feeling curled in her chest.

Why does it feel like her hatred is fading?

She shook the thought away, gritting her teeth. It didn’t matter. She had to go past him. She had to reach Paris, the coward cowering behind Nathan. He was the one who had slain Patroclus.

And she would not rest until she buried her spear in his heart.

Khillea raised her sword high, her golden eyes gleaming with unshaken resolve. She took a slow breath, steadying herself as divine power coursed through her veins. Then, in a voice filled with determination, she whispered:

“Celestial Dual Magic.”

At that moment, the air around her ignited with an overwhelming surge of power. Blazing golden flames erupted from her body, intertwining with pure, radiant light. The two forces, both celestial in nature, spiraled into a massive vortex of raw energy, their brilliance so intense that the battlefield was momentarily bathed in a blinding glow.

A hushed awe fell over the onlookers. Even the gods watching from Olympus fell silent.

Celestial Magic alone was a force few mortals could wield, but to harness two celestial elements in unison—fire and light—was a feat only those with the rarest of divine talents could achieve. Such a technique placed Khillea’s strength just beneath that of the gods themselves, an unfathomable power that only the chosen few in all of history had ever attained.

Nathan, standing across from her, remained unfazed. His sharp demonic gaze met hers.

Khillea’s heart pounded in her chest. This was the strongest opponent she had ever faced. He was the warrior she had long dreamed of battling—the one worthy of testing the limits of her strength. From the moment she had left her homeland for Troy, she had known that if she were to meet her end, it should be at the hands of an opponent of unparalleled might.

Despite the anger that had once consumed her—despite her thirst for vengeance—something deeper stirred within her now. A thrill, a desire long buried beneath the weight of grief.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

If I must die today, then let it be against him.

This time, she would not hold back.

Her next attack would not be to wound. It would be to kill.

Nathan’s gaze remained unreadable as he lifted his sword in response. The temperature around him plummeted instantly. Frost crept across the battlefield, crackling as it expanded outward. A deafening explosion of ice shattered through the air.

BADOOOOM!

In the blink of an eye, a massive sword of ice materialized in front of him, shimmering with a cold, ethereal glow. Its sheer size dwarfed everything in its path, radiating an aura of deathly frost that threatened to freeze even the gods who bore witness.

Nathan’s voice was calm, yet laced with an unshakable power.

“Celestial Magic.”

Khillea’s breath caught in her throat.

He could wield Celestial Magic as well and this perfectly?

Her heart raced.

She gripped her sword tighter. There were only two outcomes now—she would either defeat him, or she would perish by his blade. Either way, she would embrace her fate.

The battlefield fell into a moment of perfect silence.

Then, without hesitation, Khillea launched herself forward.

A sonic boom echoed as she moved, her speed tearing through the air with enough force to send soldiers flying from the sheer shockwave of her motion. Dust and debris were hurled in every direction as she closed the distance between them, fire and light cascading around her like a divine comet.

Nathan stood his ground, unmoving.

He waited.

And then—

In a single, fluid motion, he lowered his sword.

The massive ice sword shimmered for an instant before it shot forward, an unstoppable force of destruction that blurred through the battlefield at terrifying speed.

Khillea’s eyes sharpened. Fast.

But she was faster.

With a swift motion, she unclasped the golden shield strapped to her left arm.

This will buy me time.

Summoning every ounce of strength in her body, she hurled the shield directly at the oncoming attack.

BADAAAAAM!

The battlefield trembled as the two forces collided.

The golden shield did not shatter—but neither did the ice sword. Instead, the impact sent Khillea’s shield ricocheting away, barely managing to slow the incoming attack.

She had expected as much.

There was no time to hesitate.

With a fierce roar, Khillea tightened her grip around her golden sword, her entire being consumed by an infernal blaze. The flames and light surrounding her intertwined into something even greater, something divine.

She met the approaching ice sword head-on.

With all the strength of a warrior who refused to fall—

She swung.

BADOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!

The heavens themselves seemed to split apart as the two demigod-like forces clashed. The resulting shockwave tore through the battlefield, uprooting even the strongest warrior, shattering the ground, and sending tremors rolling through the earth. The sheer magnitude of the collision sent an aurora of fire and frost spiraling into the sky, painting the heavens with a battle between two warriors whose strength defied the very limits of mortality.

The battlefield was silent.

A thick cloud of dust and debris hung in the air, obscuring the aftermath of the devastating clash between fire and ice. The lingering echoes of their attacks rumbled in the distance, as if the world itself had yet to recover from the impact. The ground was scarred, fissures spreading outward like veins of destruction. The very air crackled—half searing hot from Khillea’s flames, half deathly cold from Nathan’s frozen aura.

Nobody could see what had happened.

And then—

As the dust began to settle, two figures stood amidst the wreckage.

Nathan and Khillea.

Both warriors were still standing, though their bodies bore the toll of the battle. Blood trickled down Nathan’s forehead, staining the white strands of his hair. Across from him, Khillea stood firm, but her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. A crimson trail ran down the side of her face, mingling with sweat and soot. Though both had suffered injuries, it was clear—Khillea had taken the worse of the exchange.

Yet, despite her state, her grip on her sword never wavered.

For a moment, there was only silence between them, the distant sounds of war fading into an eerie stillness.

Then, Nathan did something unexpected.

He spoke.

“Khillea.”

Her eyes widened.

The way he said it—so certain, so familiar—it sent a jolt through her heart.

How?

How did he know?

Few, if any, knew her true name. Though her identity as a woman had been exposed, she had never spoken her real name to another soul since stepping onto the battlefield. To most, she was simply Achilles, the warrior of unmatched strength, the relentless avenger of Patroclus.

And yet—Nathan had called her by name.

As if he had known her all along.

She clenched her teeth, forcing down the whirlwind of confusion that threatened to consume her. Her eyes sharpened, but before she could speak—

Nathan took a step forward.

“Let’s stop this,” he murmured.

He met her gaze, his gold demonic eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent an unfamiliar chill through her body.

And then, he said something that shook her to her very core.

“For our daughter.”