I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The third floor of the Senate Castle had become a warzone.

Stone pillars were cracked open, marble tiles shattered like broken glass beneath countless shockwaves, and the once-majestic hallway was now drowned in fire, steel, and the roar of colliding powers. The battle had expanded far beyond what any strategist could have predicted; it was chaos in its purest, most violent form.

Here, the very heart of the Empire shook as two groups of Heroes—once classmates, comrades, and friends—now clashed with the fury of demigods.Those who still swore loyalty to the Amun Ra Empire fought tooth and nail against the Heroes who had turned their backs on Alexandria and defected to Rome and Julius Caesar, the latter standing behind his elite soldiers in full battle regalia.

“Protect Elin at all costs!”

“Make sure no one lays a finger on her!”

“As always, we protect our little princess!”

Elin nearly shrank into herself as she heard her classmates shouting, forming a protective circle around her.

“G-Guys…” she mumbled, cheeks flushing a soft crimson. She wasn’t new to this treatment—far from it. Ever since their summoning, her classmates had doted on her endlessly, treating her like some cherished treasure.

And to be fair, in their eyes, she was.

Elin radiated innocence, purity, and kindness so effortlessly that every student in their class had grown attached to her. But once her SSS-Rank Healing Skill awakened—an ability so powerful it bordered on divine—their affection hardened into loyalty bordering on fanatic devotion. She had saved their lives countless times already, knitted their wounds, soothed their pain, and kept death at bay more than once.

So for them, protecting her wasn’t a duty.

It was instinct.

Even still, the whole thing embarrassed her to no end.

But Elin pushed those feelings aside. She had a role here, and as always, she would fulfill it.

Her staff shimmered with pure white and golden light, a warm glow pulsing outward and enveloping her allies.

A soldier sliced across the shoulder? Healed instantly.

A spear nearly pierced someone’s ribs? Closed before blood even had time to spill.

Burned? Bruised? Poisoned?

Elin purged it all the moment it appeared.

With her behind them, her classmates fought fearlessly, recklessly even. After all, who wouldn’t feel bold when an SSS-Rank healer had your back? They were practically invincible so long as Elin remained standing.

Still, her concentration wasn’t absolute. Her gaze kept drifting across the battlefield—drawn again and again to the brutal duel unfolding only meters away.

Freja vs. Axel

Their blades collided with such intensity that the air shook with each clash.Sparks burst like tiny stars, and arcs of stray mana carved jagged lines along the walls and ceiling. Every strike they exchanged sent ripples of pressure that cracked the stone under their feet.

They were evenly matched.

Equal in strength.

Equal in speed.

Equal in raw talent.

But Axel’s smirk revealed how much he was enjoying this.

“Trying so hard to push me back from your precious little classmates, huh?” he taunted, easily reading her strategy. “You’re terrified I’ll carve through them the moment I get the chance.”

Freja didn’t answer. Her bright eyes were sharp, focused solely on him. Determined.

She would not—could not—allow Axel anywhere near her friends. These were the classmates who had stayed true. The ones who remained loyal. The ones who refused to betray their homeland.

She would protect them with her life if she had to.

Axel chuckled darkly. “Maybe you really did deserve to be class president, Freja. His grin widened. “But you’ve always been beneath me!”

He roared as he swung downward with earth-splitting force. Freja parried, but the impact rattled her arm, pain shooting up her wrist. The ground beneath her heel fractured, leaving a deep crater from the collision.

And then Axel’s entire body began to glow.

The temperature spiked. Magic crackled around him, distorting the air like heat rising from molten metal.

Freja’s breath hitched—she recognized this.

Scales began spreading across his arms, gleaming like crimson armor. His muscles bulged unnaturally, his presence swelling as if something ancient and monstrous was awakening inside him.

Axel activated his SSS-Rank Skill.

Dragonic Force.

A thunderous shockwave ripped outward as the transformation completed.

BADAM!!

Freja’s expression didn’t waver. She kept her posture steady, her breathing controlled, her gaze sharp as she studied Axel’s transformation with the same calm focus she brought to every battlefield.

This wasn’t her first time seeing that form.

Axel’s Dragonic Force—his SSS-Rank Skill—was infamous among their class. When activated, his strength skyrocketed to monstrous levels, and his speed became so blinding that even trained eyes lost track of him. Two years ago, when they were first summoned and received their abilities, the title of Strongest Hero had been practically carved into Axel’s throne.

Freja had sparred with him several times since then. They pushed each other, measured each other, tested limits and talent.

But she had never fought Axel while he was in this form.

Never fully.

Never seriously.

She had always doubted whether she could match him like this.

But not anymore.

Not after everything that had happened.

Not after how far she—and her classmates—had come.

Axel noticed her calmness immediately. His lips curled downward, displeased, before he suddenly—violently—vanished.

He stomped once, and the floor cratered beneath him. The next moment, he blurred into existence in front of her.

BADOOOM!

Freja barely brought her blade up in time. Axel’s sword struck with the force of a battering ram. The blow lifted her clean off her feet and hurled her backward like a rag doll. She slammed into the already fractured stone wall, and the impact shattered it entirely. The wall behind her exploded outward, sending shards of marble into the open air as daylight flooded in from the third-floor height.

Through the gaping hole she was just blasted through, she could see the battlefield below—chaos everywhere.

To her left, a bit farther down the courtyard, Remus was pinned hard to the ground beneath the overwhelming might of Athena, her golden aura dominating the field.

Romulus was nowhere in sight.

Freja didn’t need to guess.

The Coliseum.

That was where he would be.

And if Romulus was there…

Then Nathan was the one fighting him.

Freja’s teeth grit. She couldn’t fall now—not when Nathan was facing a monster on his own. Not when he was pushing himself to such terrifying extremes again.

Determination flared inside her like wildfire.

Axel swung again, intending to knock her clean out of the castle, but Freja slammed magic power through her sword, bracing her stance mid-air. Her feet dug into the fractured floor, stopping her flight and locking her blade against his.

With a burst of strength, she countered.

BADAM!

Axel’s eyes widened as he stumbled backward. A thin line of crimson trickled down his scaled arm—Freja had cut him.

Him.

In Dragonic Force.

His expression twisted into anger, but Freja didn’t waste a heartbeat.

“Ida! Find Brutus! Now!”

Ida nodded sharply and sprinted off.

Axel snarled, immediately turning his head toward another classmate.”Kill him before she finds him!”

The man nodded, activating his speed Skill and bolting ahead of Ida.

“I’ll catch him!” Ida shouted, refusing to back down as she pushed herself faster.

Axel clicked his tongue, annoyed, then looked back at Freja with a cruel smirk.”So that’s it? Betraying your own classmate for some random Roman kid? You really are a hypocrite, Freja.”

Freja said nothing.

She wasn’t doing this for Brutus.

She was doing it for Servilia—Brutus’s mother.

In the short time she had spent with Servilia, Freja had grown to respect her. The woman was gentle, intelligent, and treated Freja with warmth and sincerity—something far more valuable to her than the empty arrogance Axel spewed every time he opened his mouth.

So if helping Servilia meant saving Brutus… then Freja would do it without hesitation.

She launched forward, sword flashing. Axel met her strike instantly, their blades clashing like roaring thunder. Sparks burst around them with each impact, lighting the ruined corridor with strobing flashes of steel and mana.

But Axel’s strength—boosted by his monstrous transformation—was overwhelming. Every time his blade met hers, a jolt of numbness shot up Freja’s arms.

Axel’s laughter echoed across the broken stone.

“You can’t beat me, Freja! You really thought you could!?” he taunted, reveling in her strain.

More power surged through him, his aura rising like a violent storm. His speed sharpened. His strength spiked again.

“Gahahah! You are dead!”

Axel’s manic laughter tore through the ruined hallway as he raised his sword high, pouring even more strength into his swing. The pressure alone cracked the floor beneath him.

Freja instantly understood.

If she took that hit, she wouldn’t just be injured—she would be broken. Axel’s Dragonic Force wasn’t something any normal Hero could withstand directly.

But she had no intention of taking that attack.

Her fingers tightened around her sword as she whispered—

“SSS Skill—Time Slow.”

The world shifted.

A muffled silence washed over the battlefield, and the colors around her dulled. Axel’s once-blinding strike, lethal and impossibly fast, suddenly dragged through the air like it was moving through thick syrup.

When she had first awakened this Skill, it barely slowed anything—just a fraction of time, enough to dodge a fatal blow or reposition herself. Even that small effect had saved her life more than once.

But after two years of relentless training, discipline, and refinement, her mastery had grown. She couldn’t overpower Axel.

So she would surpass him in speed.

Freja exhaled, steadied her core, and stepped forward. Even slowed, the world pressed down on her like she was wading through a storm. The burden of pushing her Skill to its maximum output felt like chains dragging against her limbs.

But she moved anyway.

She ducked low, letting Axel’s massive blade whistle over her head in agonizingly slow motion. His eyes widened—slowly at first, then with growing horror—as he realized what she was doing.

He never expected her Skill to grow this powerful.

He believed his overwhelming speed would neutralize her Time Slow.

He was wrong.

Freja tightened her grip on her sword, feeling every heartbeat vibrating in her fingers. Then—

She struck.

SPATTER!

Her blade pierced Axel’s chest with a sickening sound.

Time snapped back.

Axel’s sword slammed harmlessly into the wall behind them, pulverizing stone—but missing her entirely.

BADAM!

Freja didn’t hesitate. She thrust harder, using all her weight and momentum to drive the blade deeper. The force of the push launched Axel backward like a broken doll. He hit the wall with bone-crushing force, cracking it like thin ice.

“Ghargh!!”

Blood splattered the shattered floor as he coughed violently, collapsing into the debris.

For a moment, silence fell.

Then their classmates realized what happened—and chaos erupted.

Freja’s allies cheered, shouting in astonishment and relief. Meanwhile, the three remaining traitors who had followed Axel stared in horror, their faces drained of color.

Axel—the strongest among them—was beaten.

By Freja.

In his strongest form.

They dropped to their knees instantly, trembling.

“P-Please don’t kill us!”

“We—we surrender!”

“Axel said he would give us a good life! That—we just—please!”

Their voices cracked with fear. Tears streamed down their cheeks as they bowed their heads pathetically.

Edit exhaled deeply, arms crossed. “You guys are seriously pathetic.”

But Freja barely heard them. Her focus was already on Axel.

She approached him slowly, her boots tapping against broken stone. Axel clutched his chest, blood pouring between his fingers. Her blade had missed his heart—he wasn’t dead. Not yet. With Elin’s SSS healing, he could survive easily.

He looked up, coughing, but forced a strained smile.

“I… I get it…”

Another cough, more blood.

“Y-you won, Freja. I… I accept. I’ll go back with you to Alexandria… Okay? Let’s just… end this.”

No reply.

Only the cold, unreadable stare in Freja’s eyes.

Axel froze.

“W-Wait…” His breathing hitched. “You’re not going to kill me… right?”

He turned to the others—his classmates—the ones who followed him, trusted him, fought with him.

None of them answered.

Some looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

Others glared, judging him in bitter silence.

Axel’s heart pounded with raw fear.

No.

No, no, no.

He whipped his head toward the one person he believed would never abandon him.

“Elin!” His voice cracked with desperation. “E…Elin, please! You’re my classmate! You won’t let her kill me, right?!”

He stumbled forward, coughing blood.

“You can heal me, right? I—I’m losing so much blood, s-so… please—”

Elin stared at Axel as he begged her—begged her—to heal him. His voice trembled, and for a moment her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Her eyes grew glossy, a thin veil of tears forming as she watched her classmate crawl and plead for his life.

If this had been before…

If this were the Elin from before….before Rome.

She would have rushed forward without hesitation. She would have healed him instantly and thrown herself between him and Freja, begging her to show mercy.

But things weren’t the same anymore.

Not after everything Axel had done.

Not after he sold Freja’s life away like a bargaining chip to someone who would have killed her without even blinking.

Not after he repeatedly chose betrayal, selfishness, and cruelty—no matter how many times they forgave him.

And Elin remembered him.

Septimius.

His stern voice echoed in her mind as clearly as if he were standing beside her now:

“How far are you willing to go to protect your classmates?”

The first time he captured them, when he revealed his plan to overthrow Caesar,

he made something painfully clear:

If they wanted peace…

If they wanted safety…

If they wanted their class back…

Axel needed to die.

Not by Caesar’s hand.

Not by Nathan’s hand.

Not by fate.

By theirs.

By Freja’s.

Because Freja needed to learn ruthlessness—the kind necessary to survive in this brutal world and remain a strong ally to Cleopatra. Septimius had warned them again and again: kindness was beautiful, but naive kindness toward monsters was fatal.

Especially to Elin.

He had repeated it to her more than anyone else.

And now, as she looked at Axel—the same Axel who had endangered them countless times, who had ignored every chance to change—Elin felt something inside her break.

Her fingers tightened on her staff until her knuckles whitened.

She looked away.

She couldn’t save him.

She wouldn’t.

Axel froze, his voice dying in his throat as realization set in.

“E..Elin…?” he whispered, horrified. “E…Elin? No… you—y-you can’t—”

SPATTER.

Freja’s sword pierced straight through him.

Axel’s words cut off. He looked down in disbelief at the blade protruding from his torso. His mouth opened, but no sound came out—only blood.

His eyes, wide with fear, slowly dimmed.

Then… closed.

Silence.

A heavy, unnatural silence fell over the entire floor. Even though they all knew Axel deserved it—even though they knew this moment would come—he had still been their classmate for two years. They had laughed together once, eaten together, trained together.

The weight of his death pressed heavily on them all.

“…Let’s hurry,” Freja finally said softly, her voice steady but distant. She pulled her sword free and rushed ahead.

The others snapped out of their daze and followed quickly.

On the fourth floor, Ida sprinted down the corridor, boots slamming against stone.

“Mathen! STOP!” she shouted desperately.

Mathen, her classmate, didn’t look back.

“Shut up!” he barked, pumping more mana into his legs as he darted toward the room where Brutus was held.

He reached the door first, smirked triumphantly, and kicked it open.

Inside, Brutus was seated on his bed, immediately standing when Mathen burst in.

“Sorry for you!” Mathen sneered, raising his sword and rushing forward.

But he didn’t even get the chance to bring his blade down.

A sharp sound cut through the air.

STAB!

Mathen’s eyes widened in shock as cold steel erupted from his back. Blood trickled from his lips as he turned slowly.

Standing behind him was a trembling girl with her sword buried in his spine.

“Karine…” he gasped.

Karine’s lips quivered. Her hands shook uncontrollably.

“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice breaking.

This was her redemption—her way of atoning for betraying Freja and the others alongside Johanna. She had known about Axel’s plan, known what he intended to do to Brutus, so she came here ahead of time… just in case.

And she had been right to.

“You… you bitch!!” Mathen roared, raising his sword to strike her—

STAB!

Another blade pierced his chest.

This time, it was Ida.

Her expression was stony, but her arm trembled from the effort. She didn’t hesitate, even for a heartbeat.

Mathen’s strength faded instantly. His sword clattered to the floor. His body soon followed.

Ida exhaled shakily, then turned to Karine.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently.

Karine’s face crumpled. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she let her sword fall from her hands.

“I… I…” She couldn’t speak—only sob.

Ida stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.”It’s fine,” she whispered. “You did the right thing.”

Brutus watched the scene, uncertain of what to say, but gratitude filled his expression.

A moment later, Freja rushed in with the others.

“Are you all okay?” she demanded, eyes immediately scanning for threats.

Then her gaze landed on Brutus. She released a long breath, relief washing over her features.

“Thank God…”

Brutus swallowed nervously.

“S-So… does that mean… I’m free?” He asked hesitantly.

Freja gave him a warm, confident smile.

“You are.”