I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“What do you want…?” Logan asked hoarsely, glaring up at him despite his pain.

Nathan’s expression remained cold, his voice like ice.

“Everything.”

A cold shiver ran down Logan’s spine.

Nathan hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t threatened him. And yet… the way he spoke those words—calm, unwavering, dead serious—made the air feel heavier around them.

That gaze.

That expression.

Nathan’s eyes weren’t just intense; they were bottomless. It was as if he’d seen things that no ordinary human should see, as though behind those eyes was a man who had walked through fire and came out colder.

“You… you’re from Earth too?” Logan asked hesitantly, needing to hear it from Nathan’s lips.

It didn’t make sense. Logan had known of the Hero of Darkness; Tenebria’s Hero had arrived barely two years ago. In that short time, how had this man—no, this monster—become so powerful? So detached?

And that look in his eyes… it was haunting. He had seen more death, more suffering, more truth than Logan could even imagine.Yet it had nonsense. Logan had seen so much things…

He had lived in the era of the Demon King after all!

But Nathan didn’t reply.

Silence was all Logan received. No denial, no explanation. Just an emptiness that spoke volumes.

Then, without warning, Nathan stepped forward. He grabbed the front of Logan’s chestplate with one hand—almost casually—and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing. A second later, Logan’s body slammed into the dirt several meters away with a brutal crack. He didn’t get up.

Knocked out cold.

Nathan didn’t even glance at him again.

Instead, his attention was pulled by the sound of steel clashing and cries echoing nearby. He turned, eyes narrowing, and spotted Freja delivering a final, decisive slash across the chest of one of the summoned beasts. The creature let out a dying shriek before collapsing into a heap of black blood and steaming flesh.

Freja stood there, panting heavily. Her once-gleaming armor-dress was torn and stained, dark ichor splattered across the silver surface. None of it was her own blood. Her sword dripped with viscous black fluid.

Beside her stood Elin, also breathless, her golden robes dimmed by the grime of battle. Both women stood at the center of a grotesque battlefield—a mass of broken bodies, twisted limbs, and the thick stench of corrupted magic.

The monster Logan had summoned wasn’t just any ordinary creature—it had somehow called upon several more, each almost as powerful as the first. A chaotic chain reaction.

Yet despite the odds, Freja and Elin had held their ground.

Together, they had fought tooth and nail. Elin, using her healing magic to keep Freja standing even as the monsters tried to strike from every direction. Freja, her sword dancing in deadly arcs, never allowing them to overwhelm her.

Nathan watched the aftermath in silence, a rare flicker of admiration surfacing in his expression.

Two women. Two SSS-Rank skills. A battlefield soaked in blood, and they were still standing.

Not bad.

“Are you okay, Elin…?” Freja finally managed to say between breaths, turning toward her companion. Her voice was raw, shaky from exertion, but still filled with concern. She reached out and steadied Elin by the shoulder.

Elin gave a tired nod. She was covered in minor scratches and burns, but nothing too serious. Her magic had kept them both going. She had acted as Freja’s shield and lifeline throughout the chaos.

Nathan studied Elin for a long moment.

She was wasted on that foolish class. With her strength, her loyalty, and her character, she would be better suited by Cleopatra’s side if not by his side.

Yes… Cleopatra, who had suffered betrayal at the hands of her own brother, who trusted so few. A woman like Elin could serve as both sword and shield to her. But first, Elin needed to return to Alexandria in one piece.

That was a separate issue.

“Is he dead…?” Elin’s voice broke the silence as she approached Nathan cautiously, eyes shifting toward Logan’s unconscious form.

Ever since she heard Nathan had slain Ptolemy without hesitation—she had seen him in a new light. He wasn’t just powerful. He was ruthless. Yet strangely, there was something… soft underneath it all. A contradiction she couldn’t quite understand.

“No,” Nathan replied calmly. “I’m taking him alive.”

He began walking toward Logan, eyes locked on the fallen figure with cold determination.

Freja stepped forward, still catching her breath, but her eyes were sharp and focused on Nathan. “You’re not with Caesar, are you…?” she asked.

Nathan paused. Slowly, he turned back toward them.

“Forget everything that happened today,” he said with quiet gravity. There was no anger in his voice. Just an undeniable finality.

“N–No. I won’t forget something like this…!” Freja shouted, her fists clenched. “You have to explain what’s going on! What is all this?! Who are you?!”

She took another step forward, fiery and unafraid.

Elin moved beside her, her voice much gentler. “Please…” she said softly, eyes searching Nathan’s face. “We just want to understand.”

Even with the uncertainty in the air, Elin could feel it—Nathan wasn’t their enemy. No, she was sure of it.

But that only made the mystery deeper.

“If… if you aren’t Septimius… then who are you?” Freja’s voice trembled, the last words clinging to her tongue as if they burned to say. “He said… you’re the Hero of Darkness.”

The Hero of Darkness.

That name hung in the air like a curse.

Everyone had heard of him.

There wasn’t a single summoned Hero across the various kingdoms who hadn’t whispered the name with a mixture of fear, awe, or disbelief. His arrival had sent shockwaves through the continent. Unlike the usual batch of heroes summoned en masse, Tenebria had called upon only one—just one solitary soul.

And that soul, they said, wielded darkness nearly identical to the Demon King himself.

At first, when Freja heard of this so-called ’Samael,’ she had dismissed it. Rumors tended to grow teeth and claws of their own, bloated by exaggeration. It hadn’t seemed real.

But now… now that she was standing in front of him, her breath shallow, her heart pounding—she understood why the world feared him.

There was something about him that defied the natural. Something that made the air heavier, the light dimmer, and the ground feel less certain beneath her feet.

He wasn’t just strong.

He felt otherworldly.

Not in the divine way that some Heroes carried themselves. No… his presence was colder, darker, like a void wrapped in human skin. Her instincts screamed that this man, this Nathan—this Samael—was not someone they could hope to understand, much less control.

“Y..You… you’re from Earth too?” she asked, taking a cautious step forward.

Nathan didn’t respond right away.

His silence as she first asked whether he was the Hero of Darkness had already confirmed more than any words could. And now, with her second question, he didn’t deny it either.

Instead, he bent down and hoisted Logan’s unconscious body over his shoulder with casual ease, as though lifting a sack of feathers.

“What about it?” he replied at last, his voice flat.

The answer struck harder than it should’ve.

Elin’s eyes widened with disbelief. “Y-You’re from Earth, Septimius?!”

“Septimius isn’t even his real name, Elin,” Freja cut in, shaking her head, her gaze never leaving Nathan. “He is the Hero of Darkness. Samael—or maybe that’s fake too. It doesn’t even sound like a typical Earth name…”

She stared at him hard, trying to piece the puzzle together. Something just didn’t fit.

Could this man truly be from the same Earth as them?

His entire aura felt wrong. Foreign.

He didn’t speak like them. Didn’t act like them. There was a heaviness in him… as if he had lived through a different reality entirely. One not built on peace, but forged in ruin and despair.

Maybe… maybe he came from an alternate Earth? One consumed by war or apocalypse? The theory struck her suddenly—and frighteningly, it made sense.

That would explain his merciless gaze, his features, his cold disregard for social pleasantries. Could a man born and raised in peace become this hardened in just a single year?

She didn’t think so.

“I’m not with Caesar,” Nathan said suddenly, ignoring all the questions they had asked. “I’m against him. As you should be.”

His words were calm but forceful, cutting through the confusion like a blade.

“That man—he’ll use you. Just like he uses everyone. You’re nothing but pieces on a board to him. And once you’ve outlived your usefulness, he’ll discard you without hesitation.”

“We… we didn’t agree to anything!” Elin protested, her voice rising with emotion.

Nathan didn’t flinch. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t let you off that easily. You’re already entangled. Your teacher is already under his influence.”

“What…?” Freja blinked, stunned. Her mind reeled from the implication.

“What is he planning to do with us, Samael?” Elin asked, stepping closer, desperation rising in her voice.

“I told you—he’ll use you. You’re Heroes. Special ones. That alone makes you valuable. And dangerous.”

“And you’re also a Hero,” Freja said cautiously, her brow furrowed. “But… Caesar doesn’t know that, does he?”

Nathan turned, walking away again with Logan slung over his shoulder.

“That’s why I told you to keep your mouths shut,” he muttered. “If you speak, I’ll have to tie you up here until I finish what I came to do.”

“Kill him?!” Freja gasped. “You mean Caesar? Are you insane?!”

Her voice was louder than she intended, disbelief dripping from every syllable.

“Samael… why do you want to kill Caesar?” Elin asked softly. The way she said his name—it wasn’t in fear, but with curiosity… and something bordering on concern.

Nathan didn’t stop walking.

“That doesn’t concern you,” he answered coldly.

But Elin stepped forward again, her voice suddenly louder.

“It does concern us!” she cried, then covered her mouth in shock at her own boldness. Her voice had echoed across the ruined clearing, drawing silence in its wake.

Nathan halted mid-step.

Slowly, he turned back toward her.

“Do you really want to return to Alexandria alive?” Nathan asked, his voice low, quiet… almost too calm.

The question hung in the air like smoke—curling around them, stinging at something unspoken.

Freja’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion flashing in her eyes. “Of course we do!” she answered instinctively, her voice firm. “It’s our home.”

Nathan tilted his head slightly, his unreadable gaze piercing right through her. “Even though Cleopatra is the Queen now?”

There was a sharp edge to his words. One that made the atmosphere feel suddenly colder.

Elin stepped in quickly, answering before Freja could snap back. “Queen Cleopatra asked for our return herself,” she said gently but confidently. “And… I don’t believe she’s the kind of person who would lie about that.”

Her voice softened even more. “Alexandria is the place we belong… in this world.”

Nathan’s eyes lingered on Elin for a long moment. Something unreadable flickered in them.

And then, just barely, the corner of his lips tugged upward.

A smile.

Faint.

Almost invisible.

But it was there.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Then I’ll give you a suggestion.”

Freja stiffened slightly. “What suggestion?” she asked cautiously.

Elin leaned forward, visibly eager to listen, hoping for something—anything—that could help them navigate this unfamiliar world.

“Accept Caesar’s offer,” Nathan said calmly. “And join him.”

The words dropped like a thunderclap.

Both women froze.

“…What?” Freja blinked, her voice cracking with disbelief. “W…Why would we ever do that?!”

Nathan didn’t sigh. He didn’t scowl. He just stared at her, as if the answer were painfully obvious.

“What a stupid question,” he replied flatly.

Freja’s face flushed with heat. Her hands clenched, but just as she was about to lash out—

She paused.

Her expression shifted.

Behind her fury… a spark of realization began to take shape.

“You mean… infiltrate him,” she muttered, her voice now lower, more cautious. “Get close to Caesar. Play along with whatever he’s planning. Gain his trust—then turn it against him.”

Nathan didn’t nod. He didn’t have to.

The silence was enough.

Freja’s eyes narrowed. “You want us to be spies.”

“Not spies,” Nathan said, walking past them. “Survivors.”

“You just want us to become your spies!”

“Call it however you want.”