I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Septimius? Is everything alright?”Servilia’s voice trembled slightly as she looked at Nathan, her eyes filled with unease. His expression had hardened — cold, distant, and calculating — the kind of look that warned everyone around him to hold their breath.

Nathan raised a hand in silence, his gaze sharpening as he focused inward, tuning out the sound of the crackling torches and the faint whisper of wind that slipped through the shutters. He extended his senses — a talent honed through countless battles and near-deaths — reaching beyond the walls of the estate.

There.

A dozen heartbeats pulsed faintly in the darkness.

Twelve figures, all moving with purpose, cloaked by concealment spells so crude they might as well have been wearing banners announcing their presence. To most, they would have been invisible. But to Nathan, whose awareness had once brushed against the divine, their stealth was laughable.

“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath.

He felt each presence like a drop of ink on a clear surface — twelve black stains surrounding the estate, cutting off every escape route. The ambush was deliberate, timed perfectly. Someone had wasted no time acting after learning the truth.

A faint smirk touched his lips, sharp and humorless.”So… he didn’t waste a moment.”

The moment he said it, he knew. Johanna. She hadn’t wasted time. Told him everything.

He understood now why Caesar tolerated a woman like her at his side — deceptive, useful, dangerous. A woman who played her part perfectly in the Emperor’s games.

His jaw tightened. He should have known better.He should have checked her, read her aura, sensed the skill hidden beneath her placid façade. It was a simple oversight — and one he would not forgive himself for.

“What an irritating ability,” he said bitterly, his eyes narrowing to slits. “To pry into my mind without even realizing it…”

All those careful plans — months of subtle maneuvering — undone in an instant by one cursed skill. A shame, truly. He almost laughed at the irony.

Still, there was no time for regret.

“We’re leaving,” he said at last, his voice calm but firm — the kind of command that allowed no discussion.

“W…what?” Servilia’s face blanched, her words barely forming as panic crept into her tone.

“Caesar knows everything now,” Nathan replied without looking at her. “We can’t stay here. If we do, we die.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Wait, Septimius—my son, he… he’s still in the city!”

Nathan turned toward her, his gaze softening. Without a word, he reached out and gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, the gesture unexpectedly tender.”Listen to me, Servilia,” he said, his voice lowering to a steady murmur that carried authority and warmth in equal measure. “Caesar needs your son alive. Killing him would destabilize your House, and he knows that. He’ll keep him safe until he gains full control. You running now only ensures he can’t use you as leverage. Do you understand?”

Tears shimmered in Servilia’s eyes, but she nodded, biting her trembling lip.

Nathan smiled faintly, his features softening under the golden glow of the lantern. The faint curve of his lips — magnified by the divine charm of Aphrodite that still lingered in his soul — radiated calm and confidence. In that moment, he looked almost unearthly; a being untouched by fear, promising safety amidst chaos.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said gently. “Even if I didn’t plan for this, it’s fine.”

Servilia nodded again, steadier this time.

Then Nathan turned his gaze toward the others — the four girls who stood nearby, their eyes reflecting confusion and fear.

“We’re moving,” he commanded. “Auria, help Ameriah stand.”

“Y…yes, Lord Commander!” Auria responded at once, her voice shaky but obedient. She rushed to Ameriah’s side, lifting the pale, dazed girl to her feet. Ameriah had only just regained consciousness so she was still lost between the memories of her abduction and the chaos now unfolding in Rome. She didn’t yet understand the danger, nor the reason she had been dragged into this tangled web.

Nathan glanced toward Freja and Elin next.”Watch over them. Keep close.”

“W-wait,” Freja stammered, her voice rising. “We’re… we’re coming with you?”

Nathan shot her a look, one that silenced arguments before they began. “What do you think? Johanna saw my memories — everything. That means she’s seen both of you. If you go back, they’ll seize you the moment you show your faces. And then they’ll tear through your minds until they find what they want.”

Freja froze, her breath catching. Elin’s face turned pale, her eyes wide with realization.

“W…what do we do now?” Elin asked, her voice trembling, her hands clutching the hem of her dress as though holding on to some last thread of security.

Nathan’s gaze swept across the group — fear, confusion, exhaustion. All of it was natural, but none of it could be allowed to control them. Not now. Not here.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe,” he said firmly, already striding toward the door. “For now, you’ll follow my lead.”

As he moved, the air seemed to sharpen around him — his presence, calm and deliberate, cutting through their panic like a blade through mist. He extended a hand into the void of his storage space and, with a faint shimmer of light, drew three swords from within. The sound of steel gliding into the open air echoed softly in the tense silence.

He handed one blade to Freja, another to Servilia, and the last to Auria.

Freja accepted it instinctively — the weight familiar, her grip steady despite the fear in her eyes. Servilia’s hand, however, trembled slightly as she grasped the hilt, while Auria held the sword awkwardly, unsure even how to position her fingers along the guard.

Nathan knew they were not warriors. He had no intention of letting them fight — or letting harm reach them at all — but steel, even in uncertain hands, could serve as a small comfort. A symbol of resistance, if nothing else.

“Hold them,” he said simply. Then he turned and led the way.

They followed him out of the room, their footsteps faint against the marble floor. Nathan walked at the front, his senses wide open, his gaze flicking across the shadows. Servilia stayed close behind, clutching the sword tight, while Freja hovered protectively at her flank. Ameriah, Auria, and Elin brought up the rear — three fragile figures trailing through a house that suddenly felt far too quiet.

When they reached the atrium, Nathan stopped.

A cold silence enveloped them — unnatural, oppressive. Even the soft chirping of night insects had ceased. No flutter of wings, no rustle of leaves. It was as though the very world was holding its breath.

Nathan’s eyes swept the courtyard, his expression unreadable.

Then, softly, he spoke.

“Come out.”

No reply.

He waited a heartbeat. Two. The air thickened. His patience thinned.

A faint smirk curved across his lips, though there was no humor in it — only the chill of disdain.

“I’ve felt your eyes on my back since the moment I set foot in Rome,” he said, his tone calm, but his words cutting. “Pathetic work. Even a blind man could have sensed you. Spare me the pretense — come out.”

The final words left his lips like shards of frost.

A ripple passed through the shadows.

Figures emerged — twelve soldiers, cloaked in muted armor, their insignias gleaming faintly under the torchlight. But these weren’t common guards. Their armor bore the crimson crest of Caesar’s personal legion — handpicked, fanatically loyal, bound by oath and fear.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed.

Smart. Caesar hadn’t sent mere city watchmen. He’d sent his own hounds.

“So that’s your play,” Nathan said softly, tilting his head. “Did Caesar really believe these dogs of his could stop me?”

A murmur of unease rippled through the men. Their grips tightened around their weapons.

“No,” Nathan continued, voice lowering to a dangerous calm. “He didn’t send you to kill me. He sent you to silence her—” he gestured toward Servilia, “—and drag those two back to his kennels.”

The way the soldiers stiffened told him everything. They hadn’t expected him to know their orders.

“Pathetic,” Nathan muttered, his gaze hardening.

He took a single step forward.

And in that instant, the air around them dropped — frigid, biting. A white mist coiled from Nathan’s boots, spreading across the marble like a living thing. The cold deepened, sharp as broken glass.

The soldiers hesitated. Their breaths began to show.

Then — crack.

The ground beneath them turned to ice.

A split second later, their feet were locked in place — encased in translucent frost that crept upward like hungry vines.

“What—?!” one of them gasped, struggling to move, only to find his legs already numb.Another fell to his knees, the frost biting through leather and flesh alike.

Panic rippled through the group.

Nathan watched them impassively, his eyes cold and unblinking. He could have ended it with a gesture — crushed their bodies in a storm of shards or impaled them upon frozen spears. His mana pulsed, ready, eager for blood.

But then he glanced back.

Ameriah and Auria stood close together — pale, trembling, their eyes wide with terror. They had never seen death up close, never watched life drain from a man’s eyes.

Nathan hesitated.

He exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.

The ice crept higher, sealing the soldiers’ bodies in place. Their screams grew muffled, then fell silent as frost consumed them entirely. Within moments, twelve lifeless statues stood in the atrium, each one frozen in a final expression of shock and despair.

Nathan turned away without another glance.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his tone carrying no emotion.

He walked forward, the frost crunching softly under his boots. Behind him, the others followed — silent, shaken, their eyes flickering between the frozen corpses and the unbothered figure leading them through the mist.

Once they stepped outside, the night air hit them — cool, still, and heavy with silence. The moon hung pale and distant above the rooftops of Rome, casting a silver sheen across the courtyard. For a heartbeat, all seemed calm.

Then — a ripple in the air.

Reality itself wavered, like heat rising from desert sand. A faint shimmer spread before them, and out of thin air, a figure emerged — tall, graceful, draped in deep violet robes that caught the moonlight with an almost liquid glow.

Medea.

Her sudden appearance made Servilia gasp, Freja’s hand instinctively darting to her sword, while Elin flinched backward, wide-eyed. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

But one voice broke through it — bright and warm.

“Medea!” Ameriah exclaimed, her face lighting up with genuine joy.

Of course — Ameriah had seen Medea before, many times within the halls of Tenebria. There, the witch and her twin monsters, Charybdis and Scylla, were familiar faces — guardians of the royal palace. To Ameriah, Medea was not a threat, but a friendly presence in a foreign world. Seeing her now must have felt like finding a piece of home in the chaos.

Medea’s eyes briefly narrowed as they met Ameriah’s before shifting toward Nathan. Her gaze sharpened, reading his expression instantly.

“What happened, Nate?” she asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and faint irritation. Being summoned at night wasn’t unusual — but seeing him surrounded by five women stirred something darker in her thoughts. She had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that his summons might have been for a hard night sex! But the hard look in his eyes killed that hope at once.

He wasn’t here for pleasure. He was here for war.

“Change of plan,” Nathan said, voice clipped and steady. “Caesar found out. Take all of them away — now.”

The seriousness in his tone left no room for questioning.

Medea blinked, her earlier thoughts vanishing as her demeanor turned cold and efficient. “Where do you want them taken?”

“Not the same place,” Nathan said immediately, cutting her off before she could suggest the safehouse. “Keep them separate from Crassus and his family. Somewhere else, but still within Rome. Hidden.”

He didn’t trust Caesar’s spies — not anymore. If the Emperor’s reach could extend this far, then even Crassus’s shelter might no longer be safe. He couldn’t risk losing everyone in one strike.

Medea nodded once, her expression unreadable. Then she lifted her hand, fingers weaving through the air with fluid precision. Symbols of light and shadow bloomed around her, spinning in intricate patterns like a circle of stars. As the runes flared, a soft hum filled the air — the unmistakable resonance of high-tier concealment magic.

The five women stood close together, their eyes wide, their bodies trembling slightly as threads of violet energy wrapped around them. Slowly, their forms began to blur, their outlines dissolving into the mist.

Nathan stepped back, watching silently. His expression didn’t waver but his mind was already elsewhere.

He turned his gaze toward the horizon.

There, rising in the distance under the pale moonlight, loomed the Senate Castle — the heart of Rome’s power, its spires glinting faintly in the night. It was visible even from here, a symbol of Caesar’s dominion and ambition.

Nathan’s lips curved slightly.

So, Caesar had made his move first. That was fine.

It only meant Nathan no longer needed to play the obedient servant.

The pretense was over.

From now on, the game would be played on his terms.