I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan and Shiina remained hidden among the rocks above the shrine path, watching in silence as the procession drew closer.

The horses climbed at a measured pace, iron shoes striking stone in a slow, steady rhythm that echoed faintly through the cold mountain air. Mitsuhide rode at the front with the same calm authority as before, his posture straight, his expression unreadable. Behind him came his soldiers, his attendants, and Genzo, dragged along like little more than a burden.

Shiina rested one hand on the hilt of her sword, her impatience growing harder to hide with every passing second.

”Do we attack?” she asked at last.

”Not yet,” Nathan said, his eyes never leaving Mitsuhide.

”We cannot let them enter the shrine.”

”I know,” Nathan replied. ”And we will not.”

He waited a little longer, measuring the distance, the spacing between the guards, the pace of the horses, the way Mitsuhide carried himself. There was no tension in the daimyo’s movements. No hesitation. No visible concern. That alone made Nathan more cautious.

Then, when the procession finally reached the last stretch beneath them, Nathan rose.

Kyomei appeared in his hand at once, black as night, its presence cold and familiar. The blade seemed to drink in the dim morning light rather than reflect it.

He glanced at Shiina. ”Ready?”

Her lips curved into a small smirk. ”Always.”

”Do not underestimate him.”

”I would not.”

She lifted her hand, and a blue glow flared around her fingers like summoned moonlight. A moment later, a katana appeared in her grasp, beautiful and dangerous, its hilt a deep dark blue. It was no ordinary blade. Nathan felt that much immediately.

Just like Kyomei, it carried weight beyond steel.

And just as quickly, he was reminded that whatever understanding existed between them now, Shiina was still dangerous. Very dangerous.

Then he turned back toward the path, took one step forward, and vanished.

Shiina disappeared with him.

A breath later, they stood on the road before the procession, barring the way.

Mitsuhide pulled on the reins at once, and his black horse stopped sharply with a harsh snort. The soldiers surrounding him reacted instantly, weapons drawn, steel flashing as they stepped forward to shield their lord.

Genzo, battered and half dragged behind them, lifted his head with effort.

The moment his weary eyes landed on Nathan, they widened in shock.

”You...” His voice was rough and strained. ”You should not have come, brat...”

Nathan did not take his eyes off Mitsuhide. ”You owe me, old man. I am not letting you die here and break the promise you made me.”

Only then did he truly study the daimyo up close.

Mitsuhide was tall and lean, his face pale and composed, framed by dark hair that moved lightly in the mountain breeze. His gaze held no visible anger, no surprise, no fear. It was too calm. Too empty.

”Did Norihiro send you to kill me?” he asked, his voice cool and unhurried.

Nathan’s grip tightened around Kyomei. ”It does not matter. You are dying here.”

For a moment, Mitsuhide simply looked at him.

Then he raised one hand.

That was all it took.

His armored knights rushed forward at once.

Nathan and Shiina both met the charge head on, but the instant steel clashed, Nathan felt it. The force behind the strikes was far greater than expected. These were not ordinary guards. Their speed was unnatural, their movements eerily precise, and their faces remained disturbingly blank even as they attacked.

Nathan parried one sword and twisted aside from another, only to feel a third blow crash against his blade with enough weight to jar his entire arm.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mitsuhide urge his horse forward, dragging Genzo behind him by the rope tied around his wrists.

Nathan’s expression hardened.

He drove his foot into the chest of the knight before him, the impact slamming through armor and sending the man flying backward. Nathan moved to rush after Mitsuhide at once, but two more soldiers cut into his path.

”Get the hell out of my way.”

Dark power surged through Kyomei as Nathan swung.

A black wave erupted from the blade and tore through the air with violent force. The soldiers were blown aside like leaves before a storm, their bodies hurled off the path and into stone.

Nathan looked ahead again.

Mitsuhide was already dragging Genzo up the shrine steps.

Nathan narrowed his eyes and moved, but more armored knights flooded toward him from both sides, forcing him to stop again.

Then a flash of blue tore across his vision.

Shiina appeared like a streak of light.

Her katana moved once.

The knight standing before Nathan was cut cleanly in half so fast that for a brief instant his body remained upright before splitting apart. Blood sprayed across the stone.

Shiina landed lightly between Nathan and the next wave of soldiers, smiling as if this were all no more than a game.

”They really do feel like puppets,” she said.

Nathan wasted no time. ”I am leaving them to you.”

Shiina did not even look back. ”Go.”

He rushed past her and up the steps.

Ahead, Mitsuhide had reached the upper part of the shrine path and was still pulling Genzo by the rope. The old man was too weak and battered to resist. He stumbled more than ran, nearly collapsing with every step.

Nathan’s gaze flicked downward.

One of the dead knights had dropped his sword near the path.

Without slowing, Nathan snatched it from the ground and threw it.

The blade cut through the air with vicious precision.

A heartbeat later, the rope binding Genzo’s wrists snapped cleanly.

Mitsuhide gave another pull and met no resistance.

Genzo fell backward at once, tumbling down the steps before crashing into the dirt with a rough grunt of pain.

Mitsuhide stopped.

For the first time, he looked at the severed rope in his hand.

Then, slowly, he turned his head toward the attendants carrying the lacquered boxes and the long wrapped objects.

He did not need to speak.

They understood immediately.

As one, they rushed into the shrine.

Mitsuhide followed them in silence.

Nathan slowed for only a fraction of a second, watching him disappear into the dark interior.

What is he planning?

The thought flashed through his mind, but there was no time to chase it yet.

Genzo came first.

Nathan sprinted down to him and knelt beside him at once. The old man was breathing hard, his body trembling with exhaustion, his wrists still raw from the rope.

Nathan cut the remaining bindings and hauled him upright.

”Get up. Can you move?”

Genzo looked at him through pain clouded eyes. ”You need to run, brat. That man is dangerous.”

Nathan’s voice turned hard. ”Can you run or not?”

Genzo clenched his jaw, then nodded.

”Then run,” Nathan said. ”Get as far away from here as you can. I will find you later.”

For a moment, Genzo looked as if he wanted to argue.

Then he understood from Nathan’s face that there was no use wasting breath on it.

He nodded again and forced himself into motion, staggering at first before pushing into a rough, desperate run down the path.

One of the dark armored knights broke past the fighting below and lunged toward him.

Nathan stepped forward instantly, placing himself between the soldier and the fleeing old man. Kyomei rose in his hand, ready to cut the man down where he stood.

Then a sudden chill swept across the shrine grounds.

It came like a breath from winter itself.

The air dropped sharply. Frost spread over the stone. A pale wind passed over Nathan’s shoulder, and in the next instant the charging knight froze solid where he stood, his armor whitening beneath a layer of ice as snow began to drift through the air.

Nathan paused.

Then he smiled and turned to the side.

She stood there in the cold morning light, as beautiful as ever, silver hair stirring softly around her, the air itself seeming to bend into winter around her presence.

”My apologies for being late, Nathan sama,” Yukihime said.

”No. Your timing is perfect,” Nathan said, his eyes already turning back toward the shrine. ”Let us finish this.”

Yukihime’s expression softened for only a moment.

”Please,” she said, her voice calm and clear despite the blood and chaos around them. ”Leave this to me.”

She raised one hand.

At once, light gathered around her fingers in a pale silver glow, cold and pure, and from that radiance a lance appeared in her grasp. It was beautiful in a way that made it hard to look away from, long and elegant, its shaft smooth as polished moonstone, its blade bright as winter frost beneath the morning sky. Fine patterns ran along its surface, ancient and intricate, like old sacred carvings hidden beneath ice.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She had not carried that weapon before.

So she had recovered something important.

And judging from the presence coming from it, this was no ordinary weapon. It was an artifact, or something very close to one.

Yukihime smiled faintly, and then she moved.

The soldiers rushing toward Nathan barely had time to react.

A streak of white crossed the path, swift and graceful as a gust of snow through bare branches. Her lance swept in a clean arc, and the air itself seemed to freeze in its wake. Frost exploded outward in a glittering wave. The first line of dark armored knights was caught in it at once, their bodies locking in place mid step, their armor covered in ice before the shock had even reached their faces.

Then the frozen shells cracked.

They shattered apart in a spray of red and white.

More soldiers came from behind, charging without hesitation, their eerie calm untouched even by what they had just seen. Yukihime turned toward them in a blur of silver hair and swirling snow. She spun her lance with a dancer’s precision, each movement smooth, light, and devastating. The blade flashed once, twice, three times.

Bodies fell.

One knight lost his arm before he even understood he had been struck. Another had his chest torn open by a thrust so fast Nathan almost missed it. A third was frozen from the waist up and collapsed into a mound of bloody frost the next instant.

Snow whirled around her feet as if the mountain itself had bowed to her presence.

She was stronger than before.

Not by a little.