I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

After the Second Round concluded, Nathan wasted no time in leaving the arena. His brief but sharp exchange with Ethan, Olivia, and Jane had left him on edge, but more than that, the stifling weight of countless divine gazes pressing down upon him was unbearable. Though the mortal spectators cheered in ignorance, Nathan alone could see the truth—the towering presence of gods seated high above, their eyes glimmering with curiosity, judgment, and something far more dangerous.

Every single deity had fixed their gaze upon him. Their interest burned hotter than a midday sun, and Nathan knew in his heart that such attention would never fade. From this moment forward, Rome’s streets would never again offer him peace. The anonymity he once cherished was gone, stolen by his own display of power.

Without hesitation, he used magic and shot into the sky, cutting through the clouds where no mortal eyes could follow. The wind tore against his face, yet his thoughts lingered not on his speed but on his right arm. He turned it slowly, and what he saw made his breath hitch.

His flesh was scorched, marred by a deep, glowing crimson that pulsed with a heat far beyond natural fire. The burns shimmered faintly, alive, as though the flames of a god still licked his skin from within. It was not an ordinary wound—it was the price of awakening.

The sword of Alexander the Great.The light of Amun-Ra.

That sacred weapon had revealed its true nature, and Nathan had dared to call forth its dormant radiance. But the light of Amun-Ra was unlike Apollo’s gentle brilliance, which lent him speed and grace. No—this was pure destruction incarnate, an all-consuming light meant to burn away empires.

He found it difficult to comprehend how Alexander himself, a demigod like Nathan, could have wielded such overwhelming force with ease. To command this weapon as though it were an extension of his body, to conquer nations and carve an empire into history—it was unfathomable. Nathan felt humbled just hearing about it. For all his victories, for all the blood and sweat that had carried him this far, he was still leagues behind that legendary figure. At least for now…

How he longed to have met him. To look Alexander in the eyes, to exchange words with a man who bent the world to his will. But history had already claimed him, and the dead did not return.

Nathan clenched his fist and forced his wings to beat harder. He had no time to dwell on impossible wishes. The gods were watching, and he needed to vanish before their interest turned into action. Yet just as he sought to break free into the horizon, a sound made him falter.

A soft giggle.

Nathan froze midair, his body rigid. The sound had no place in the sky, no mortal lips could have uttered it from such heights. His eyes darted across the air, and then—there she was.

“As expected, you can sense us, can’t you?”

The voice was honeyed, playful, dangerous.

From the shimmer of the void stepped a woman, a vision of beauty so potent that even the air seemed to bend around her form. She moved with the effortless grace of a goddess, because that was exactly what she was.

Nathan’s gaze hardened, though even he could not deny her allure. Her beauty rivaled, perhaps even surpassed, Aphrodite herself—if not in purity of charm, then certainly in raw, unrestrained sensuality. Her body was a weapon as much as her divinity, every curve sculpted to perfection, her figure so daring that her sleeveless gown seemed an insult to modesty. Fabric clung to her, threatening to surrender under the weight of her heavy breasts that strained against its confines. She did not hide herself; she reveled in being seen.

She was the kind of beauty that could shatter reason, the kind that lured mortals to madness, compelled demigods to ruin, and even turned the heads of gods. But Nathan had walked too long among Aphrodite, Khione, and others of their kind. He had learned to look upon beauty without faltering. The fire of his desire was tempered now, forged into something sharper than blind lust.

Still, recognition struck him like a blade. White hair that cascaded like silver silk, pink eyes glowing with both promise and peril, skin kissed with the faintest tan of desert suns.

Ishtar.

The Mesopotamian goddess of love, fertility, and war.

Aphrodite had warned him about her more than once, her voice tinged with suspicion—was it jealousy, or was it genuine caution? Perhaps it was both. Aphrodite herself was dangerous, but Ishtar… Ishtar was something else entirely.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening like drawn steel as he studied the smiling goddess before him. Every muscle in his body remained taut, ready to spring at the slightest provocation, though in truth he doubted any attempt at escape would succeed. To flee from a goddess was to flee from inevitability itself. The heavens bent to their will; the air, the clouds, even the space around them belonged to her now. Still, his instincts screamed to calculate, to measure paths of retreat, to plan—even if those plans were futile.

Ishtar’s lips curved, a faint chuckle spilling from them like wine poured into a golden goblet. “So sharp… so wary. Tell me, then—were you also able to see us during the previous round?” Her voice carried a lazy amusement, though her eyes glittered with something keener. “Impressive for a demigod. Then again… Gilgamesh himself could see us as a child. You are quite the specimen.”

The name struck Nathan like a pebble against the still surface of his thoughts.Gilgamesh.

The emperor who rules the Babylonian Empire, the man enshrined as the greatest of kings. His reign still stood as the most formidable empire the world had ever known. And far away, across deserts and mountains, Phoebe too resided within that same land.

Nathan’s expression, however, betrayed nothing. He had no interest in that distant Empire in the other side of the world.

“I am surprised,” Ishtar continued, her head tilting with feline curiosity, “that you remain as calm as water even while standing before me.”

Her words rang with genuine surprise. Most mortals, most demigods—even many gods—would have already drowned in her allure. Her beauty was a weapon sharper than spears, her sex appeal crafted to break resistance. But Nathan stood unmoved, unblinking, his calm gaze reflecting none of the fire she sought to kindle in him.

And that calm, that resistance—it ignited something far more dangerous within her.

Ishtar’s hunger deepened. Not the hunger of love, nor even the hunger of possession. This was a hunger to consume him utterly, to taste his defiance and break it, to take him into herself in the most intimate and carnal way possible. The harder he resisted, the more she desired him.

“Who could you be, truly?” Nathan asked, his voice even, controlled.

She arched a pale brow. “Hm? You mean to say you don’t already know me?” A playful smirk unfurled on her lips. “Very well. I am Ishtar.”

“I have heard of a goddess by that name,” Nathan said coolly. His tone was flat, almost indifferent, though every word was chosen like the placement of stones upon a path. “I see. Then how can I help you?”

It was an act—calmness as armor. The best option when faced with such a predator was to show neither fear nor desire.

Ishtar’s smirk widened, and in the blink of an eye she was gone—only to reappear a breath away from him, so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. Her perfume, sweet and heavy, wrapped around him like a velvet noose.

“You carry such a body,” she whispered, her lips curling as her eyes roamed him with unashamed hunger, “and such a dangerous aura. Rarely have I seen one like you.” Her tongue flicked across her lips, slow and deliberate.

Nathan’s jaw tightened. “…I am honored.” It was all he could muster, though the words tasted hollow on his tongue.

But inside, he recognized the truth: she was more dangerous than Aphrodite. Aphrodite played with love, with beauty, with affection woven into temptation. But Ishtar—Ishtar was raw appetite. Standing before her felt as though she wanted not merely to seduce him, but to devour him whole.

Her hand rose, reaching slowly toward his chest.

The moment her fingertips brushed his sternum, Nathan’s body went rigid. His breath caught. Something invaded him—not charm, not love, nothing familiar. It was as if she reached directly into the furnace of his desire and stoked it, fanning the embers until they threatened to erupt into wildfire.

It wasn’t affection. It wasn’t seduction. It was lust, raw and primal, stripped bare of tenderness.

His blood heated, his pulse thundered in his ears. He gritted his teeth, resisting, forcing the storm back into its cage.

Ishtar’s pink eyes widened, delighted, her smile curling with wicked fascination. Despite her power, despite the wave of lust she pushed into him, Nathan resisted. His will held fast against her touch. And that resistance… oh, it thrilled her beyond measure.

She wanted more. She wanted to see him bend, to break, to taste every ounce of his defiance until nothing remained.

“Ishtar.”

The single word cut through the air like a blade.

In an instant, the goddess flinched. Danger prickled against her skin. She vanished, reappearing several meters away, her eyes narrowing.

The newcomer had arrived.

Athena.

The goddess of wisdom stood before them, her presence sharp and unyielding, a storm contained within mortal guise. Her gaze locked on Ishtar with cold disdain, and the air itself seemed to harden between them.

Ishtar clicked her tongue, her smile faltering, her appetite interrupted.

“You are far from home, Ishtar,” Athena’s voice cut through the air, cold as tempered steel. “Rome lies beneath the dominion of Olympus. This is not your hunting ground.”

The Babylonian goddess turned, her pink eyes glinting with amusement. “Hunting ground, is it?” she purred, her lips curling. “Tell me, Athena—since when has there ever been a rule forbidding gods from treading beyond their pantheon’s borders? Has your great Zeus rewritten the laws of the divine while I was away?” Her tone was deliberately mocking, each syllable laced with irreverence.

For a moment, Athena said nothing. Her silence was not concession but calculation, weighing the cost of a retort. Ishtar was not wrong. The boundaries of pantheons were more custom than law, a web of respect and balance, not iron chains. Still, Athena’s voice rang out at last, firm and unyielding.

“Perhaps not. But Septimius is under my guard. My protection.” Her blue eyes glowed with an icy radiance, her stare sharp enough to pierce armor. “He is no pawn for your amusement. He carries a role to play in the shadow of Pandora. I will not permit you to meddle.”

Ishtar’s laughter was soft, sweet, but in it lingered a bite. “Oh? And what if I said I wanted to help? Surely one more hand against Pandora would be welcome?”

“No.” Athena’s reply was instant, decisive. The word cracked like thunder.

Ishtar froze for half a heartbeat, her amusement flickering. Even she, who delighted in taunting, in bending others to her rhythm, felt the iron in Athena’s tone. A chill slithered down her spine, for this was not the calm strategist of Olympus she was used to. This was Athena pushed to anger, and such a sight was rare indeed.

Clicking her tongue, Ishtar lifted her hands in mock surrender. “Very well, very well. I won’t trespass further upon your claim. Consider me gone.” She spread her wings, preparing to vanish into the night sky. But before departing, she paused, turning her gaze one last time upon Nathan.

Her lips curled into a sultry smile. “But remember, Septimius… if ever you tire of this cold woman who knows nothing of love, come to me. I’ll teach you pleasures even Olympus dares not whisper of.” Her tongue slipped across her lips, slow and deliberate, before she disappeared into the ether.

Nathan glanced after her, his face blank though his thoughts burned. He did not answer.

“Septimius.”

Athena’s voice snapped him back. She floated closer, her arms folded, her gaze sharp as a hawk’s. “Ishtar is volatile—dangerous. You must not linger near her. Do you understand?” Her tone was edged with authority, almost scolding, like a general correcting a reckless soldier.

Nathan gave a short nod. “I didn’t know how to escape her,” he admitted, his hand rising instinctively to his chest where her fingers had touched. Even now, the phantom heat lingered, smoldering in his flesh and blood. His heart thudded faster than he liked, and beneath the surface, desire twisted unbidden. He clenched his jaw. What a dangerous goddess.

Then warmth pressed against him. Athena’s hand.

He blinked, startled, looking down at her fingers resting lightly upon his chest. His mind scrambled to make sense of it. But Athena’s expression softened, her lips lifting into the faintest of smiles.

“You’ve endured much,” she said, her voice gentler now, devoid of the earlier steel. “But I see it clearly—your heart is still pure, despite the burdens you carry. Do not let her poison convince you otherwise.”

Nathan’s thoughts faltered. He had seen Athena many times, witnessed her wrath, her brilliance, her cold judgment. But this… this smile—gentle, luminous, utterly human—struck him harder than any blade. For a moment, the goddess of wisdom looked breathtakingly beautiful in a way he had never known. The rıghtful source is NoveIꜰire.net

He found himself entranced. Rarely had he been moved so deeply by a mere smile. And the fact that it came from Athena, so often stern and untouchable, only carved it deeper into him.

“You should rest,” she continued, her hand slipping away. “You’ve worked hard today. Tomorrow, we will meet with Pandora in Demeter’s garden. I will come to fetch you.”

Nathan nodded slowly, still caught in the afterglow of her smile. Athena turned, preparing to vanish. But before she could, his voice stopped her.

“…Thank you, Goddess Athena.” His words were genuine, carrying weight. He could not imagine how far Ishtar would have gone, how dangerous the encounter might have become, if Athena had not intervened.

Athena’s lips curved once more, gifting him another radiant smile. “Have a good night, Septimius.”

And then she was gone.