I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Before she could react, she spun around—and crashed into something solid. Her forehead collided with a broad, unyielding surface—armor, gleaming under the moonlight in resplendent gold.

A hand reached out, steadying her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up, into the eyes of the stranger who was either her saviour or worse…

The man stood before her, towering over her small frame, his entire face obscured by an ornate golden mask that gleamed ominously under the moonlight. The only visible part of his visage was a pair of piercing red eyes that shone through the narrow slits of the mask, cold and unreadable. A shiver of fear coursed through Arsinoe’s body as she instinctively stepped back, her breath hitching in her throat.

“W…Who are you?!” she demanded, her voice laced with uncertainty and dread.

Her pulse raced. The man had just slain her pursuer with an effortless precision that spoke of skill and ruthlessness. While she was relieved to see her captor dispatched, there was no guarantee that this stranger was her ally. In fact, the ease with which he had ended a life only served to heighten her wariness.

The masked figure tilted his head slightly, as if assessing her, before raising his arm. The dim light revealed an intricately embroidered badge fastened to the fabric of his sleeve.

“Don’t you recognize me?” His voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet tinged with an underlying curiosity.

Arsinoe’s gaze flickered to the emblem, her brows furrowing. It was a symbol she knew well—the mark of the Pharaoh. Her tense posture eased slightly, but only just.

“Y…You work for the Pharaoh? My brother?” she asked hesitantly, her voice carrying a sliver of hope. Then, as her eyes took in his attire—rugged, practical, and undeniably that of a warrior-for-hire—she added, “A mercenary, right?”

The man inclined his head in a slow nod. “My name is Lucius.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the name. “L…Lucius? Lucius Septimius?” she echoed, her blue eyes widening in shock.

Nathan—disguised as Lucius—watched her reaction carefully. “You finally recognize me?”

Had she met Septimius before? Or had she merely heard of him?

“I’ve heard of you!” she exclaimed, her initial hesitation giving way to urgency. “Good! Then take me back to Alexandria! Quickly!”

Nathan remained unmoved by her plea. He folded his arms over his chest, the cool metal of his vambraces catching the dim light as he regarded her with veiled amusement.

“If you’ve heard of me, then you must know that I am a mercenary,” he said, his tone firm. “And I don’t work for free.”

Arsinoe’s expression shifted from relief to disbelief. Her lips parted slightly before pressing into a thin line.

“I am a Princess of the Amun Ra Empire,” she said, straightening her posture, her voice carrying the authority befitting her royal status. “I am the sister of the Pharaoh, and yet you stand here demanding payment?” She frowned, her disbelief giving way to indignation.

In the Amun Ra Empire, the Pharaoh was revered as a living god, his bloodline divine. Arsinoe and her sister Cleopatra had grown accustomed to absolute obedience. Wherever she had gone, her mere presence had commanded submission and loyalty. It was unthinkable that a mere sellsword would dare question her authority.

Nathan, however, remained unfazed.

“I need money and information first,” he stated simply, his voice unwavering, leaving no room for negotiation.

Arsinoe’s frustration mounted. “B-But they will be back!” she stammered, her gaze darting around the darkened ruins that surrounded them. Fear crept into her voice as she realized the peril of lingering here. Aporos’ remaining men were still out there, and it was only a matter of time before they tracked her down.

Nathan regarded her with the same detached calm.

“And?” Nathan’s voice was steady, almost amused. “You saw how easily I killed him. I can eliminate all of them just as effortlessly. There’s nothing for you to worry about… but first, I want my payment.”

“Payment? Do I look like I have anything to give you?” Arsinoe snapped, frustration flashing across her face.

Nathan remained unfazed. “You can pay me later in gold,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “But right now, I also need information.”

Arsinoe narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What kind of information?”

Nathan’s red eyes gleamed through the mask. “The Heroes,” he said slowly. “Tell me what deal your empire has with the Heroes of Light from the Second Summoning twenty years ago.”

Arsinoe’s expression shifted from irritation to confusion. “Heroes of Light? Second Summoning? What are you talking about?”

Nathan frowned behind his mask. He had been watching her carefully, searching for any hint of deception, but she truly had no idea what he was referring to. That realization frustrated him.

“Our Heroes were sent to the Empire of Light,” Arsinoe said warily. “Why do you care about them?”

Nathan exhaled, reigning in his irritation. “I don’t,” he said, his voice even. “I need to speak with the Pharaoh.”

The portal that had brought him to the Amun Ra Empire had not been a coincidence. He was sure of that. While the explosion had scattered him, Ameriah, and Auria, they couldn’t have landed too far apart. And if Ameriah—a princess—was involved, then someone with significant influence had a hand in it. He needed to confirm whether the Pharaoh and his court were complicit.

Arsinoe straightened, sensing an opportunity. “You want to see my brother? Then take me back to Alexandria!”

Nathan shook his head. “No. Go back on your own. They won’t follow you.”

Arsinoe’s brow furrowed in confusion. “W-Why? Didn’t you just say you wanted to see the Pharaoh?”

Nathan’s posture stiffened slightly, and when he spoke again, his tone was icy. “Yes. But first, I will capture Pompey.”

Returning Arsinoe to the Pharaoh would undoubtedly grant him some of the information he sought. But Pompey was a far greater prize. He was wanted by the Pharaoh, by Cleopatra, and even by the Roman Empire. Getting Pompey was going to give him much more than merely the Pharaoh’s gratitude for saving his sister.

And Nathan intended to have every advantage in his hands.

Arsinoe’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing his words. The revelation struck her like a sudden gust of wind, her breath catching in her throat.

“Pompey… the fallen Emperor?” she murmured, her voice laced with disbelief. Then, as realization dawned upon her, she looked directly at Nathan, her gaze sharp and searching. “I see. My brother sent you to kill him, didn’t he?”

Nathan, of course, was not Lucius Septimius—the man truly sent to carry out Pompey’s assassination—but he had a role to play. Without betraying a hint of uncertainty, he simply gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

Though he had no definitive plans to end Pompey’s life, Nathan knew that capturing him alive could prove far more beneficial. The former Roman general still held value, and a man like him could be a powerful bargaining tool if handled correctly.

“I will carry out my task,” Nathan stated firmly, his voice carrying an air of finality. “Now leave.”

Arsinoe’s lips parted slightly as if she wished to argue, but after a brief hesitation, she relented with a small nod. Yet, just as she turned to go, something made her pause. A flicker of hesitation crossed her delicate features before she turned back to face him once more.

“Did the Pharaoh give you any other orders?” she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with an emotion Nathan couldn’t quite place.

Nathan narrowed his eyes slightly. “Like what?”

She hesitated again, as though she were weighing her words carefully. “I don’t know… about Cleopatra?”

Her tone was uncertain, almost vulnerable. She was searching for something—an answer, an assurance, perhaps. But Nathan wasn’t in the business of comforting people.

“What do you think he ordered?” he countered, his tone measured, watching her reaction closely.

A tense silence settled between them before she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did he… ask you to kill her?”

Nathan studied her carefully. There was something raw in her expression, a mixture of emotions she was desperately trying to suppress. Was she genuinely concerned for Cleopatra’s life, even after everything that had transpired between them? Or was it something else—a complex entanglement of resentment and sisterly loyalty?

He decided to test her. “What does the Pharaoh’s decision have to do with you?” he asked coldly, his gaze unwavering.

Arsinoe flinched, clearly taken aback by his response. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles turning white. “You—!” she began, her voice rising, but she caught herself. With visible effort, she took a deep breath, steadying her emotions.

When she spoke again, her words were slow and deliberate. “This is my order: Be it Pompey or Cleopatra, they are more useful alive than dead. If you kill either of them, you will make powerful enemies—ones you cannot afford to cross. You will be hunted, not just by the Empire of Ra, but by Rome itself. And in the end, you are just a mercenary. Disposable.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, letting her warning sink in, before turning sharply on her heel and walking away without another word.

Nathan watched her leave, his mind turning over her words. As much as he disliked admitting it, she had a point. Killing Pompey could very well place him at odds with Rome. He couldn’t be certain how Caesar and his allies viewed the man now, but Pompey had been a towering figure in the Empire. His execution, carried out by a mere hired blade in service of the Pharaoh, would not be taken lightly.

Regardless, Nathan had no intention of following through with the assassination. His objective had changed—Pompey would be captured, not killed.

With renewed determination, he turned swiftly and sprinted into the depths of the forest, his senses sharpened. He had no time to waste. Aporos and the others would be making their move soon, and when they found Pompey, Nathan needed to be there.