I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The moment Nathan stepped into the arena, a wave of sound crashed over him.

The people of Minami Kyoto greeted the fighters with thunderous cheers that rolled through the stands like a living storm. Voices overlapped into one vast roar, full of excitement, hunger, and the crude delight of a crowd that had come to watch men break each other in the sand. The noise pressed in from every side, rising from tier after tier of spectators packed tightly into the surrounding seats.

Nathan walked forward with the others and let his gaze travel across the arena floor.

Under his feet, the ground was loose and sandy, already marked by the first trails of sandals dragging across it. The shape of the place felt familiar at once. For a brief moment, he was reminded of Rome, of the many times he had stepped into arenas there under the eyes of masses eager for violence. The memory came easily, but the comparison did not last long.

This was not Rome.

The scale was impressive by local standards, but Rome had always done everything with greater excess. Its arenas were grander, crueler, and built with a deeper understanding of spectacle. In Rome, even the air before a fight had carried its own sort of theater, sharpened by blood, ritual, and the certainty that the crowd had come not only to watch, but to own what happened below.

Still, this arena was far from small.

It had to be.

More and more fighters were pouring in from the other gates now, spreading across the sand in uneven clusters as officials directed them into position. Nathan had first assumed there were a little over two hundred participants, but as he watched the last groups enter, he revised that estimate without much effort.

There were probably closer to three hundred.

The number meant little to him.

Whether it was one hundred, two hundred, or three, the outcome did not change. Most of the men around him would fall quickly once the fighting began. Some were already glancing at each other with open hostility. Others turned in slow circles, trying to gauge threats before the first strike was even allowed. A few lifted their weapons for the crowd, feeding off the cheers and pretending confidence came naturally to them.

Nathan ignored them all.

Instead, he lifted his eyes toward the higher stands.

If Norihiro intended to watch the event from the beginning, he would be seated somewhere above, likely in a raised section reserved for nobles and officials. Nathan scanned the arena carefully, past the common seats and the bright banners hanging from carved beams, toward the more sheltered platforms set apart from the rest.

He saw guards.

He saw richly dressed attendants.

He saw figures seated beneath shaded coverings, too distant to make out clearly from where he stood.

But he did not see Norihiro.

Nathan narrowed his eyes for a moment, then looked away.

Either the man had not arrived yet, or he was hidden well enough not to be recognized from the floor. It changed nothing. There was no point wasting time searching before the match even began.

For now, he would fight.

If Norihiro was not here yet, then he would come when the victor was named. A spectacle like this existed for men of rank as much as for the common crowd. Someone would make sure he heard of whoever dominated the arena, especially if that victory came hard and fast enough to leave an impression no one could ignore.

Nathan rested the wooden sword lightly at his side and exhaled through his nose.

The fighters had barely spread across the sand when the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena.

It rang out unnaturally clear, amplified by whatever enchanted device he was using, and at once the crowd answered him with a roar of approval. Nathan lifted his eyes toward the central platform where the man stood dressed in bright ceremonial robes, one arm raised high as if he were conducting the noise itself.

”People of Minami Kyoto!” the announcer shouted, his voice swelling over the arena. ”Today, strength, courage, and fortune will be tested before your very eyes!”

The spectators erupted again.

Nathan stood still, the wooden sword resting low in his hand, and watched without interest as the man continued to inflame the crowd.

”From every corner they have come. Warriors, wanderers, ronin, brutes, fools, and hopeful champions! All of them have entered this arena for one reason only. To rise above the rest and claim victory!”

Cheers thundered from every side. A few fighters around Nathan raised their weapons in answer, feeding off the noise. Others shouted to make themselves look bolder than they felt. The sand shifted under restless feet as men adjusted their stances and cast sharp glances at one another.

The announcer paced slowly along the platform, savoring every second.

”But remember this well! Once the signal is given, there will be no allies here, no friendships, no mercy from the sand beneath your feet! Only one among you will stand above the fallen! Only one will seize glory before the eyes of Minami Kyoto!”

That line struck its mark.

The atmosphere changed.

What had been excitement hardened into tension. Nathan felt it ripple across the arena like a current moving through shallow water. Men who had been smirking a moment before now watched each other with open suspicion. Grips tightened around wooden blades and staffs. Some lowered their center of gravity, already preparing to spring forward the instant the signal came. Others began turning subtly, measuring who looked weak, who looked dangerous, and who might be easiest to put down first.

Nathan remained calm.

His breathing never changed. His shoulders stayed loose. The sword in his hand pointed toward the sand instead of rising toward any threat. He did not need to posture. He did not need to glare. Around him, men were bracing themselves for chaos, but he stood as if he had all the time in the world.

His gaze drifted across the arena.

That was when he found Shiina.

She stood some distance away, easily visible despite the crowd around her. Several men had ended up near her position, and more than one was staring at her with the same ugly mix of arrogance and anticipation Nathan had already seen before. Some looked amused, as if they had decided she would be easy prey once the match began. Others simply leered, too stupid to understand what they were looking at.

Shiina, for her part, seemed entirely unbothered.

She was standing with her wooden katana resting lightly on one shoulder, her posture almost lazy, her expression as relaxed as it had been in the waiting hall. For someone surrounded by fools hungry to test themselves against what they thought was a vulnerable target, she looked almost entertained.

Then her eyes found Nathan.

Even across the arena, he recognized the instant she noticed him.

A smile curved on her lips.

She gave the slightest lift of her chin, then casually raised her wooden sword and waved it once in his direction, as if greeting him across a quiet courtyard instead of moments before three hundred people tore into one another.

Nathan stared at her.

Of all the possible reactions she could have had, that one felt the most absurd.

And yet somehow it suited her perfectly.

A nearby brute turned to see what she was looking at, spotted Nathan in the distance, and frowned as if already irritated by some rivalry he barely understood. Nathan ignored him. His attention remained on Shiina for one moment longer.

She was smiling.

Not nervously. Not bravely.

Simply smiling, as though she had been waiting for this to become interesting.

Then the announcer’s voice rang out again, louder than before.

”Fighters!”

The arena fell into a taut stillness.

Even the crowd seemed to hold its breath.

The announcer drew the moment out with practiced cruelty, arm still raised high while hundreds of men stood on the edge of violence.

”Prepare yourselves!”

Around Nathan, the final traces of restraint vanished. Sand shifted under dozens of feet. Weapons rose. One man near him licked his lips. Another muttered something under his breath like a prayer. Somewhere farther away, someone gave a short laugh that sounded far too strained to be genuine.

Nathan bent his fingers slightly around the hilt of his sword.

His eyes moved once across the field.

No sign of Norihiro.

No matter.

First the arena.

Then the rest.

The announcer brought his arm down in a violent sweep.

”Begin!”

The explosion of movement was immediate.

The whole arena lurched into chaos at once.

Men surged forward with shouts and snarls, some charging the nearest target without thought, others hesitating just long enough to be rushed by someone quicker. Wooden weapons cracked together in sharp bursts as the first clashes erupted across the sand. A staff smashed into a shoulder. A sword glanced off a skull. One fighter stumbled before he had even taken three proper steps, dragged down by two others who had chosen him as the easiest start.

The crowd roared in savage delight.

Nathan did not rush.

While others threw themselves into the madness, he stepped once to the side and let a man sprint past him toward another target. A second fool came in too fast from the left, swinging wildly, and Nathan saw the strike coming long before it arrived.

So it had begun.

At the edge of his vision, he caught one last glimpse of Shiina moving at last, her smile never quite fading as the men around her closed in.

Nathan lifted his wooden sword.

The battle had started.