I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 476: The World of Olympus

Once Nathan stepped beyond the threshold of the blinding white room, he felt as though the world itself had shifted. His feet touched the polished marble ground of a realm unlike any he had ever seen—the domain of the Olympian Gods, where every legend, every whispered tale of Greek myth, had its origin.

For a moment, he could do nothing but stare in awe.

The sight before him resembled a city torn straight from the pages of a grand fantasy epic, yet it was more vivid, more alive, more impossibly beautiful than any human imagination could ever conjure. Towers of flawless white marble rose high into the heavens, their surfaces gleaming under the brilliance of an eternal sun that never seemed to fade. Intricate carvings of battles, gods, and heroes adorned the stone, each detail so perfect it seemed sculpted by divinity itself.

The streets were broad and immaculate, paved with polished marble tiles that shimmered faintly with a golden hue, as though touched by starlight. Every building stood with an elegance that defied human architecture—pillars soared with impossible symmetry, bridges spanned between towers with effortless grace, and fountains spilled crystalline water that sang like music as it fell.

But it was not only the city that held Nathan’s breath—it was its people.

The residents of Olympus—the Gods themselves—moved through the streets like any city-dwellers, laughing, conversing, or strolling leisurely. Yet there was no mistaking their divine nature. They radiated an aura, an invisible current of power that pressed faintly against Nathan’s chest. Their skin was pale and luminous, their movements graceful in ways mortals could never mimic, and their garments were woven from fabrics of deep blues, golds, reds, and whites, each robe shimmering faintly like liquid silk.

And tall—all of them were tall. Even the women, statuesque and commanding, carried themselves like sovereigns.

Athena, who walked beside him, was no exception. Her frame towered over most mortal men at well over five foot eleven. Nathan, standing at six foot one, should have been taller, yet when he glanced at her, there was an undeniable impression that she looked down on him. Perhaps it was the gleaming golden helmet resting upon her brow, or the long, radiant spear she carried that stretched higher than his own height, but her presence made her seem larger than life—an illusion that Nathan could not quite dispel.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Athena’s voice, calm yet filled with pride, broke the silence.

Nathan exhaled, finally remembering to breathe, and nodded. “It is.”

Her lips curled into a proud smile, though her blue eyes shimmered with something deeper. “You should feel grateful, Septimius. Few mortals have ever set foot here. In truth… no one has been granted passage for millennia upon millennia.”

Nathan inclined his head respectfully. “I am.”

She gave a small nod of approval, but the brightness of her smile faltered for a heartbeat, giving way to a shadow of sorrow. Her gaze swept over the gleaming city, and she murmured, almost too quietly for him to catch:

“I must protect this place… no matter the cost.”

Nathan noticed the sadness in her tone, but he chose not to press her. Instead, he simply walked at her side, allowing her silence to remain untouched.

Suddenly, a chorus of voices erupted from the streets.

“Oh look—it’s Athena!”

“Athena! Goddess of Wisdom!”

“How are you?”

Dozens of Gods, radiant and tall, waved and called to her with warm familiarity. Their smiles were bright, their respect evident. Athena, ever composed, returned their greetings with polite nods and faint smiles, acknowledging them as though she had done this countless times before.

Nathan, however, was a stranger among them. He felt their eyes—curious, probing, assessing—though none dared approach him directly. Their whispers, though restrained, lingered faintly in the air, a reminder that he was a mortal intruder in the very heart of divinity.

His attention, however, drifted past them, to the skyline.

And then he saw it.

Among the towering spires of Olympus, one structure dwarfed them all. A colossal castle of white marble stood perched upon the slope of an impossibly tall mountain. Its walls glistened like ivory under the eternal sunlight, its towers piercing the heavens themselves. From its height, it seemed less a fortress and more a palace of gods—a seat of sovereignty, a throne carved for one who ruled above all others.

It was so far away, yet so vast that Nathan could see every detail even from this distance. Its immensity alone made his chest tighten.

“That place…” he whispered.

“Not there.” Athena’s voice cut in, firm, drawing his attention back. Her expression turned solemn. “That mountain is forbidden. Even among the Gods, only a chosen few may tread its halls.”

Her gaze lingered on the palace as her voice grew quieter. “It is the seat of my father. Zeus’s castle.”

Nathan did not need further explanation. Only the Twelve Olympians—the highest of the divine hierarchy—would ever be allowed within those walls.

“Then where are we going?” Nathan asked.

Athena turned her sharp eyes upon him, then raised her hand to point toward another mountain in the distance.

Not as tall as the one crowned by Zeus’s palace, but still majestic, this mountain gleamed white beneath the light. And upon its summit, if Nathan squinted, he could see a different structure: a sprawling bronze fortress. Its walls shimmered like firelit metal, its shape less elegant and more raw, as though forged by hand and hammer.

“That,” Athena said, her lips curling with a small smile, “is our destination. Hephaestus’s workshop.”

Her gaze swept back to Nathan, assessing him with quiet intensity. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Nathan replied, his voice steady.

Athena gave a faint nod before lifting her hand and resting it firmly on his shoulder. At once, the world around him began to ripple, space folding inward as though reality itself bent to her command. His vision blurred, and a sensation like being pulled through rushing currents filled his chest. For an instant, dizziness overtook him, and then—

—silence.

When the haze cleared, Nathan found himself standing upon solid ground once more. The air was warmer here, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of fire and smoke. His eyes lifted, and his breath caught in his throat.

The bronze palace towered above them.

From afar, it had looked impressive—vast, gleaming, and formidable. But up close, its scale was staggering. Its walls shimmered with the sheen of molten metal, as though it had only just cooled from the forge. Vast bronze doors loomed overhead, engraved with intricate designs of fire, gears, and weapons of unimaginable shape. Unlike the ethereal elegance of Olympus’s marble towers, this fortress exuded raw strength, as if it had been hammered into being by the very heart of a volcano.

Yet despite its grand presence, the place felt strangely quiet, even deserted. The silence pressed down heavily, broken only by the occasional distant clang of hammer against steel echoing from deep within.

Athena stepped forward without hesitation, her golden spear glinting faintly in the fiery light. Nathan followed, his footsteps echoing on the bronze floor as they entered through the colossal gates.

The interior was unlike anything he had seen before.

Weapons and artifacts lined the halls as though it were a museum. Blades longer than a man gleamed faintly with runes; shields pulsed with hidden energy; spears of impossible craftsmanship were suspended upon racks of obsidian-black metal. Each piece radiated power—an aura that made Nathan’s skin tingle.

For a fleeting moment, temptation stirred in him. What if I took one? Just one weapon forged by the God of the Forge himself… But the thought dissolved quickly, crushed by reason. Stealing from Hephaestus’s hall was no different from signing one’s death sentence.

They pressed on, their path winding deeper into the bronze halls until the rhythmic thunder of hammering grew louder. The sound reverberated through the air like the heartbeat of the palace itself. Sparks seemed to flash in the distance, illuminating shadows against the walls.

But before they could reach the workshop, Athena slowed and came to a halt. Nathan followed her gaze.

Two figures had just emerged from within the forge. Their voices carried clearly through the air, soft yet commanding, as though the palace itself was eager to amplify them.

“I do believe you should try to step out a little more, Hestia,” one said. “Remaining within your hearth and tending to the children is admirable, but you should not confine yourself to it forever.”

The voice was warm, maternal, yet tinged with a note of insistence.

“What I do pleases me, Demeter,” the other answered calmly. Her tone was gentle, serene. “What about you? Do you not find joy in your gardens with your daughter?”

“Of course I do,” Demeter replied, her smile audible in her words. “But it is not only the garden—I must care for the whole world.”

Nathan’s eyes widened as the two Goddesses stepped into full view.

Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth, bore medium-length white hair that fell softly around her shoulders. Her light brown eyes radiated warmth, a calm steadiness that reminded Nathan of flickering firelight on a quiet evening. She exuded an aura of peace, comforting yet undeniably divine.

Beside her walked Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest, with hair long and white as winter snow, cascading down her back in silken waves. Her golden eyes shimmered like autumn fields under the sun, filled with both life and authority. Their beauty was breathtaking, but it was more than physical—each carried the weight of their divine domains effortlessly, embodying them in every step.

Both women paused as they spotted Athena.

“Oh, Athena!” Demeter called, her voice bright with recognition. Hestia’s eyes softened in greeting, though her smile was faint.

“What are the two of you doing here?” Athena asked as she stepped closer.

“We were ordering tools from Hephaestus,” Demeter answered smoothly. “And you, Athena?”

Athena’s expression turned serious. “It concerns the artifact Hephaestus is forging for us—to aid mortals in the fight against Pandora.”

At the name, Demeter’s golden eyes dimmed, her smile fading. “Ah… yes. That.” A faint shadow passed over her face, sorrow and worry woven into the lines of her expression.

Hestia’s gaze shifted, falling directly upon Nathan for the first time. Her eyes studied him quietly, her expression unreadable.

“And who is this human?” she asked.

Athena’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “The one who will be tested against Pandora first. Tell me, Hestia, what do you think of him?”

Nathan’s pulse quickened under her scrutiny. He felt a bead of sweat trail down his temple as Hestia’s calm, unwavering stare lingered on him.

“I think…” Hestia said softly, “he is strange.”

“Strange?” Demeter’s tone rose with curiosity. She stepped forward suddenly, closing the distance until her face hovered just an inch from Nathan’s.

Her golden eyes locked with his, sharp and penetrating. Nathan held her gaze, refusing to flinch, though he felt the weight of her divine presence pressing into him.

Then, to his surprise, Demeter’s lips curved into a smile.

“As expected of you, Athena,” she said with a light laugh. “You’ve found quite a specimen.”

Athena ignored the remark, her focus shifting back to the forge. “Is Hephaestus occupied?” she asked.

Demeter chuckled, shaking her head. “Hephaestus will never be too occupied when it is you who comes to visit, Athena.”

Athena’s brows furrowed faintly, but she gave a short nod and began to move past them. Yet before she could continue, Demeter’s voice called out once more.

“Athena, dear.”

Athena paused, turning back.

Demeter’s expression had changed, her golden eyes serious now, her smile gone.

“Be careful with Hephaestus. Do not give him false hope.”

Athena blinked, caught off guard. The words seemed cryptic, veiled with meaning she did not yet understand. Still, she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment, though her eyes betrayed her confusion.

Without another word, she turned and continued on, leading Nathan into the heart of the forge.