I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

“Now that your great enemy is dead,” Khione asked softly, her voice echoing through the endless expanse of her domain, “are you finally leaving?”

Nathan found himself, once again, standing within her dimension.

It was a place unlike any other—an isolated fragment of existence shaped by Khione’s will, suspended between reality and divinity. The air shimmered with cold brilliance, saturated with magic so dense it felt almost tangible against the skin. Every breath carried traces of divine power, subtle yet overwhelming, like standing too close to a raging blizzard frozen in time.

He hadn’t been able to visit often.

Part of it was his relentless schedule, the endless battles, schemes, and obligations that came with the Gladiator Tournament and his plans to overthrow Julius Caesar. But that wasn’t the true reason. The real reason was far more dangerous.

Nathan was being watched.

Ever since his astonishing rise during the tournament—his victories, his defiance, his impossible feats—he had drawn the attention of the gods. Too much attention. At Aphrodite’s insistence, he had stopped opening the door to Khione’s dimension altogether.

Because no matter how quick he was—no matter how carefully he slipped in and sealed the passage behind him—Khione was still a goddess. Her world was a divine construct, overflowing with sacred magic. And such magic was impossible to completely conceal.

The gods could feel it.

And the more powerful they were, the clearer it became.

Gods like Ishtar.

Gods like Isis.

Those names alone were enough to set his instincts on edge. Aphrodite and Amaterasu had warned him repeatedly—those two goddesses were observant, calculating, and dangerously perceptive. One careless visit, one lingering trace of divine fluctuation, and Khione’s existence—their existence—could be exposed.

Khione.

And Nivea.

His daughter.

The very thought of them being discovered, used as leverage, or worse… made him uneasy like never before.

So during the final days until the final of the Gladiator Tournament and after it—when the eyes of countless deities were fixed upon him—Nathan had made the painful decision to stay away. No matter how much he missed them. No matter how empty the days felt without Khione’s presence or Nivea’s laughter.

The risk, however slim, was unacceptable.

Yet today… after nearly two weeks of absence… he was finally here again.

There was still danger. There always was. But Aphrodite herself had intervened, weaving layers of deception and concealment over the opening of Khione’s world, masking its divine signature just enough.

Because Nathan had reached his limit.

He needed to see them.

“I didn’t think you were the joking type, Khione,” Nathan replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lowered himself on the bed.

“My greatest enemy,” he repeated lightly, though his eyes held warmth rather than mockery.

Khione did not smile back.

“You took your sweet time dealing with him,” she said, her tone sharp, restrained irritation slipping through her composed exterior. “A mere human. One with no power whatsoever.”

Nathan lifted his gaze to meet hers.

She was upset—genuinely so. Not angry, not furious, but displeased in that quiet, dangerous way only a goddess could be. Her blue eyes glimmered faintly, reflecting both concern and reproach.

And she wasn’t entirely wrong.

If Nathan had wanted to, Caesar would have died long ago. One strike. One night. One untraceable accident.

But killing him outright would have been a waste.

By waiting, by observing, by letting the rot reveal itself, Nathan had uncovered the full extent of Caesar’s influence—the hidden networks, the corrupted alliances, the poison spreading through the Roman Empire’s foundation. One death would have changed nothing.

Instead, Nathan had torn out the roots.

He dismantled everything Caesar had built, severed every connection, and ensured that when the man finally fell, there was nothing left to replace him. More than that, he had turned the new leaders of the Roman Empire into allies—people who owed their rise, and their future, to him.

A slow victory.

A complete one.

Khione, quite obviously, could not have cared less about the Roman Empire—or Nathan’s carefully orchestrated victory over it. Politics, empires, and mortal power struggles meant nothing to her. What mattered to her was far simpler, far more personal.

She wanted Nathan by their side.

Just as Nivea did.

“He may have been weak,” Nathan said calmly, his voice low as he gently stroked Nivea’s white hair, “but he had grown too deeply rooted within the Roman Empire. I needed time—to erase all of his influence.”

Nivea sat on his lap, clinging to him as though he might vanish again if she loosened her grip. Her small fists were tangled tightly in the fabric of his shirt, knuckles pale from how hard she held on, as if sheer will alone could keep him there. She pressed herself against him, warm and solid and real, and Nathan felt a quiet ache settle in his chest.

“I don’t care about the Roman Empire, Nathan,” Khione replied, her voice cold and distant, like ice forming over still water. “Nor does your daughter.”

The sharpness in her tone made Nathan sigh inwardly.

He lowered his gaze to the small figure in his arms, his expression softening instantly. “Is that true, Nivea?” he asked gently.

Nivea nodded without hesitation, her movements firm and resolute despite her young appearance. “I don’t,” she said plainly. Then, after a brief pause, her voice hardened in a way that felt disturbingly mature. “I hate them for taking father from us.”

Nathan’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile as he brushed his fingers through her hair again, slow and reassuring. “They didn’t take me from you,” he said softly. “I will always be with you, Nivea. No matter what.”

She looked up at him, her cold blue eyes glowing faintly, reflecting Khione’s divinity more clearly than ever. “But there are enemies outside,” Nathan continued. “Many of them.”

“Then kill them,” Nivea said casually.

The words were spoken without malice, fear, or hesitation—only simple certainty.

Nathan almost laughed.

A month ago, Nivea had undergone a sudden surge of divine growth. Her body now resembled that of a four-year-old child, but it was her mind that had changed the most. Her intelligence, her awareness, her personality—all of it had evolved rapidly, far beyond what a mortal child should possess.

There was no doubt about it.

She was undeniably their daughter.

“I will get rid of everyone who threatens us,” Nathan said, his voice firm but gentle as he stroked her cheek. “But it will take time.”

His gaze lifted toward Khione then, holding hers with quiet understanding. It was not an excuse—only a promise.

Khione did not respond.

She turned away, her white hair shifting like drifting frost, her expression unreadable. Nathan knew what she was thinking. If it were up to her, she would stay here forever—inside this divine domain, untouched by the outside world. She would shape the land, expand it, make it warmer, more alive. A sanctuary. A prison disguised as paradise.

Nathan did not want that for them.

“I want freedom for Nivea, Khione,” he said firmly, standing his ground. “For all of us.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Khione remained still for a long moment before finally speaking. “If you attack the Light Empire,” she said slowly, “there will be no going back.”

There was more meaning in her words than she allowed herself to express.

An empire was not merely a nation—it was an extension of divine will. And the Light Empire, above all others, stood under the protection and influence of powerful gods. To strike it was to declare war not just on mortals, but on the heavens themselves.

Nathan would gain enemies—many of them gods.

And once he crossed that line, there would be no quiet retreat, no peaceful end waiting for him unless he reached a level of power so overwhelming that no god would dare threaten him or his family again.

Even Khione knew how impossible that sounded.

Nathan was extraordinary—far beyond any mortal she had ever known. But she had lived for thousands of years. She had seen true monsters. Beings whose power eclipsed his by magnitudes beyond counting. Gods, primordials, and entities that ruled entire eras.

And compared to them…

Nathan was still growing.

Still vulnerable.

And that, more than anything, was what frightened her.

“You know I need to take down that Empire,” Nathan said quietly.

“No,” Khione snapped, rising to her feet in a single fluid motion, the temperature of the room seeming to drop with her mood. “You don’t. Is this vengeance speaking?”

Nathan shook his head slowly. “No. It’s not just that.” His gaze hardened, not with hatred, but with resolve. “I want my women to live there freely. Happily. And for that to happen, every Divine Knight must die, and the Light Gods must lose all control over that Empire.”

Khione turned sharply toward him, disbelief flashing across her face. “So instead of abandoning that cursed Empire and taking them to Tenebria, you’re still clinging to it?” she asked, her voice edged with frustration.

“I’m not clinging to it,” Nathan replied calmly. “But until we build our true home, I won’t move them all to Tenebria. The day I do move them, it will be to a place where they can finally live in peace.”

He paused, then added more quietly, “Even Tenebria is dangerous. And I don’t trust it completely.”

Khione crossed her arms, studying him with narrowed eyes. “Building a new home,” she said skeptically. “You certainly have ambitions beyond reason.”

Nathan chuckled softly. “I do. And I already have an idea of how to build it—and where to find it. But for that, I’ll need to speak with Athena.”

The moment Athena’s name left his lips, Khione’s expression darkened. Frost crept faintly along the edges of the bed and floor, betraying her emotions far more clearly than words ever could.

Nathan noticed immediately.

Before she could step away, he reached out, grasped her arm, and gently but firmly pulled her back toward him. She barely had time to react before he drew her down onto the bed, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other remained around Nivea, his fingers instinctively stroking the child’s hair.

Khione stiffened for only a second before his warmth settled around her.

“You and Nivea,” Nathan said softly, his voice low and earnest, “are the main reasons I’m doing all of this.” He lifted her chin slightly so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “I need you to believe me, Khione. More than anyone else.”

She looked into his eyes—those faintly glowing, demonic gold irises that so often unsettled gods and mortals alike.

But there was nothing frightening in them now.

Only love.

Clear, unwavering, overwhelming affection directed entirely at her.

In that moment, she felt it with absolute certainty—no matter how many women stood at his side, no matter how many gods challenged him, she and Nivea would always stand above all others in his heart.

A faint blush crept across her pale cheeks, softening her sharp features. Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I know,” she murmured quietly.