I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Siara’s eyes snapped open, her breath shallow as she stared at the ceiling above her. A dull, persistent ache throbbed in her temples, and she instinctively raised a hand to her forehead, massaging it in an attempt to soothe the pain.

For a moment, she lay still, silent, allowing the remnants of her dream to settle in her mind like the ripples of a disturbed pond.

She had dreamed of him again.

Nathan.

Her stepbrother’s face had appeared so vividly in her dreams that it was as if he had been standing right before her, alive, real—almost within reach. Ever since his death, these dreams had plagued her, creeping into her sleep like ghosts of memories she could never escape. Sometimes, they were fragments of ordinary days, mundane moments from their shared past. But tonight had been different.

Tonight, she had relived a day she could never forget.

A day that had changed everything.

She let out a small, bitter chuckle, a breathless whisper of nostalgia laced with regret. That had been the day her perception of Nathan had shifted entirely. From that moment onward, she had made an effort to be kinder to him, to talk to him, to bridge the silent gap that had always existed between them. It had been awkward at first, her attempts clumsy and uncertain, but she had truly wanted to improve their relationship.

Yet, before she could make any real progress, fate had intervened.

They had been taken—ripped from their world and thrown into another.

A world filled with dangers, monsters, and an uncertain future.

And there, in the face of looming peril, she had been afraid. She had clung to the one person she trusted most, the one who exuded confidence and strength—Jason, her long-time crush. It had seemed natural, inevitable even, to gravitate toward him. He had been decisive, fearless, always at the front lines, while Nathan… Nathan had been quieter, more reserved. He hadn’t openly shown concern, nor had he displayed any exceptional strength that would have made her feel safe beside him.

And so, without even realizing it, the distance between them had grown once more.

Perhaps it was unavoidable. In a world where survival was paramount, there had been no room for uncertainties. The faster they defeated the Demon King, the sooner they could return home, and so she had chosen the path that seemed the most secure—following Jason and his party.

And now Nathan was gone.

Dead.

His absence had left behind a gaping void, one filled with regrets that gnawed at her, consuming her from within. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of the past.

“Be kind to Nathan, Siara. He’s been through more than you can imagine. He always finds trouble, but he’s a good boy.”

She had never truly listened. Never until it was too late.

Now, all she had left were these dreams—cruel, unrelenting visions that forced her to relive what she had lost. They carried her guilt like an anchor, weighing down her heart with what-ifs and unspoken apologies.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed off her blanket and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she barely noticed. Moving toward the window, she rested her hands on the wooden frame, gazing out at the world beyond.

Her breath hitched.

A familiar sight greeted her—a bustling harbor, the distant silhouette of towering spires against the golden horizon. The crisp scent of saltwater mixed with the faint aroma of the morning breeze.

Her lips parted in disbelief.

“We’re… back?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The ship had reached the port.

And that port… she recognized it instantly.

They had finally returned.

To the Empire of Light.

The journey back to the Empire of Light had stretched across several months—not because the voyage itself was particularly long, but because the group had chosen to make frequent stops at nearby islands. Each pause provided them with a much-needed reprieve, a chance to rest, hunt for food, and momentarily forget the weight of their burdens.

It had not been a decision made lightly; it was a unanimous choice.

They had endured too much.

And they all knew what awaited them upon their return to the Empire of Light.

More training. More expectations. More scrutinizing gazes from nobles and Divine Knights who viewed them as symbols of hope, as warriors destined to bring salvation.

At first, such admiration had felt exhilarating. The respect, the privileges—they had basked in them, feeling almost untouchable. But as time passed, the glow of reverence had become suffocating. The way the nobles and knights looked at them, as if they could do no wrong, as if they were gods among men—it was stifling.

They were just students.

Children who had been thrown into a war beyond their control.

And so, for the sake of their sanity, they had prolonged their journey, savoring the brief taste of freedom before duty chained them once more.

But now, after what felt like an eternity—eight long months of self-imposed exile—they were finally back.

The ship glided smoothly into the harbor, the sound of waves lapping against the wooden hull filling the air. The salty scent of the sea was sharper here, blending with the crisp morning breeze. Ropes were cast, anchors dropped, and the massive sails slowly folded in as the vessel came to a steady halt.

Waiting for them on the dock below was a full escort of Light Empire Knights, standing in rigid formation. Their silver armor gleamed under the sunlight, their capes billowing slightly in the wind.

At least a dozen carriages had been prepared, lined up in pristine rows, and behind them stood what could only be described as a small army. The Empire had not taken any chances with their return—these so-called “Heroes” were far too valuable to be left unprotected.

As the first of them disembarked, a firm voice rang out to greet them.

“Welcome back, Heroes.”

A single figure stepped forward from the ranks.

Unlike the other knights, who carried an air of disciplined rigidity, this man exuded something entirely different—self-assured confidence, a quiet yet undeniable authority.

He was tall, with sharp, chiseled features that gave him an almost regal presence. His pristine white hair, unblemished by time or war, cascaded elegantly down to his shoulders, and his piercing eyes held a depth that sent an uneasy shiver down Jason’s spine.

Jason narrowed his eyes as he took a step forward, instinctively positioning himself as the leader of their group.

“And you are?” he asked, his tone neutral but cautious.

The man’s lips curved into a polite smile, though there was something unreadable in his gaze.

“I am Clahvel, a Divine Knight of the Light Empire,” he introduced himself smoothly. “By the order of His Majesty, I have been assigned to oversee your protection and to assume Liphiel’s former role in guiding the Heroes.”

At the mention of Liphiel, a scoff cut through the air.

“Tch. I don’t need some weakling to babysit me.”

Aidan descended from the ship with an air of barely concealed disdain, his sharp blue eyes flashing with contempt. “Liphiel died pathetically. She was useless in that war. Just another fool who couldn’t handle the battlefield.”

Clahvel chuckled softly.

There was no anger in his expression, no outrage at Aidan’s blatant disrespect. Only amusement.

“Liphiel was never a warrior,” he admitted without hesitation. “Her strengths lay elsewhere. But rest assured, any mistakes she made—I have every intention of correcting them.”

For a fleeting moment, his calm demeanor faltered, and something cold flashed in his gaze. A quiet, unspoken warning.

Jason felt it immediately.

Aidan, despite his bravado, instinctively stiffened. His hand twitched, his body reacting before his mind could process why.

A strange sensation crawled up his spine, setting every nerve on edge.

That man…

There was something dangerous about him.

Jason felt it too.

A tense, wary silence hung over the group. The so-called “Heroes” remained on edge, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar face before them.

The presence of a new Divine Knight was unsettling. Trust was a fragile thing, and after all they had been through, they weren’t eager to place their faith in a stranger.

Then, the tension broke.

A familiar figure stepped forward—a woman of striking beauty, her red hair catching the sunlight, her gentle presence radiating warmth.

“It’s been a while, everyone.”

The moment Cecilia spoke, her voice calm and soothing, the atmosphere shifted.

“Cecilia!”

Relief flooded their expressions.

The boys and girls alike rushed to greet her, their previous caution melting away as they surrounded her with genuine smiles.

Unlike the nobles and knights of the Empire, Cecilia had never treated them as mere tools of war. She had been one of the few they could trust—kind, selfless, and unwavering in her sincerity.

“Welcome back, everyone.” Cecilia’s smile remained soft, though there was a flicker of something in her gaze—something unreadable. “Come, let’s get moving. The carriages are ready for you.”

A dozen elegant carriages awaited them, their polished surfaces gleaming under the sun.

Their return to the capital would take only a few hours.

As they settled into the cushioned seats, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the gentle rocking of the carriage provided an odd sense of normalcy. Yet, despite the comfortable ride, a strange atmosphere lingered.

Seated together, Siara and Sienna exchanged glances before Siara finally spoke up, leaning slightly out of the carriage window.

“Cecilia,” she called out. “How is Teacher Amelia? And her child?”

Riding beside them on horseback, Cecilia turned, her expression softening.

“Very well,” she assured with a warm smile. “Her daughter is growing beautifully.”

Siara let out a small sigh of relief, but before she could respond, Sienna—who had remained silent for most of the trip—suddenly spoke up.

“Is everything… alright?”

Cecilia didn’t respond immediately.

Something about the way the knights moved, the way the escort felt more like a procession than a simple welcome party—something was off.

Sienna’s instincts screamed at her, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t just overthinking it.

Cecilia’s smile faltered. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face before she finally exhaled, her tone turning grave.

“Actually… the Emperor passed away four months ago.”

“Eh?!” Siara’s eyes widened in shock, her voice rising in disbelief.

Even Sienna, who rarely showed much emotion, stiffened.

“A sudden illness struck him,” Cecilia continued, her voice quieter now. “Despite the best efforts of the healers, he didn’t survive.”

Siara let out a groan, rubbing her temples. “I suppose that means the Prince took the throne?”

“Yes,” Cecilia confirmed, but her hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. “But… it’s complicated.”

Siara frowned. “Complicated how?”

Cecilia’s gaze darkened slightly as she delivered the news.

“He’s not ruling alone.”

A cold feeling crept into Sienna’s chest.

“What do you mean?” Siara asked, wary now. “Did he already find a wife?”

Cecilia shook her head. “No.”

Then, after a pause, she added with an unmistakable weight to her words:

“The new Empress of the Light Empire… is Hero Nancy.”