I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 526: Isis’s Anger

The night stretched endlessly over Rome, heavy with silence and the faint glow of the moon. After Medea had safely hidden Servilia, Ameriah, Auria, Freja, and Elin within the protective barrier she’d woven around a secluded home, Nathan had chosen not to rest. Instead, he remained above the roof, keeping watch from the shadows like a sentinel carved from the night itself. His gaze swept over the dark streets below, sharp and unyielding, while the faint rustle of distant leaves whispered in the wind.

Medea had obeyed his second command — to stay close to the house where Crassus and the others were confined. It was a necessary precaution. Now that Julius Caesar knew he had been deceived, now that the illusion Nathan had so carefully spun had been torn apart, the consequences would be far-reaching.

Nathan could imagine Caesar’s fury even now — the great Roman Emperor pacing back and forth, his proud composure shattered, hands tugging at his hair as he tried to unravel every thread of Nathan’s deception. From the very first meeting between them at Alexandria, Caesar had believed he was the one in control. But Nathan knew better. The realization that he had been outplayed, that he had been nothing more than a pawn in Nathan’s grand design, would torment the man until dawn.

And yet, none of that mattered now.

Throughout the long night, Roman soldiers swept through the city in restless waves — armored men with torches and suspicion in their eyes, breaking into homes, searching every corner for signs of treachery. But not one of them came close to discovering Crassus’s hidden refuge. Medea’s enchantments wrapped the place in veils of illusion, cloaking it from mortal sight. Even the gods themselves would have struggled to pierce her spell.

She was truly remarkable, Nathan thought — a sorceress capable of bending reality to her will.A witch who could do anything… and everything. And she had yet to have awakened her true potential and reached her peak.

Nathan hadn’t slept, not even for a moment. His body longed for rest, but his mind refused. He lay stretched across the rooftop, staring into the silver glow of the moon, deep in thought. His breathing was calm, his heartbeat steady — but his mind was a storm.

Then, without warning, a soft tremor rippled through the air behind him. The faint sound of feet landing on stone broke the stillness.

He didn’t move immediately.Instead, Nathan turned his head lazily, his pale hair catching the moonlight, and looked at the figure now standing beside him.

It was her.

Isis — the Goddess of Magic and Sovereignty.

“You’ve been quite silent all this time,” Nathan said, his tone calm but carrying a hint of amusement, as though her sudden appearance were no surprise at all.

The goddess crossed her arms, her silver eyes cold as starlight.”And what about you?” she countered sharply. “You’ve been exposed by Caesar, your schemes laid bare — and now, you hide like a coward in the dark.”

Nathan let out a faint chuckle, though his eyes were glacial.”Is that how you speak to me? After everything I’ve done to Caesar?”

Isis’s expression hardened, her gaze narrowing dangerously. A faint shimmer of divine energy rippled around her, distorting the air.

“I told you to bring down Caesar,” she said, her voice edged with steel. “To weaken Rome — to ensure that it would never again rise against Amun-Ra’s dominion. But instead, because of your meddling, Caesar will come to despise Amun-Ra even more. And Cleopatra—” her voice grew bitter, “—she will believe herself betrayed, convinced that she was part of your deceit. You’ve turned allies into enemies. And the Heroes I summoned — they are lost because of you!”

Her contempt was palpable now, colder and sharper than the tone she had used before. There was no trace of the divine grace she’d once shown; only disappointment and fury.

But Nathan didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled — not mockingly, but with the quiet confidence of someone who had long since learned that gods bled like mortals.

“You lost those Heroes,” Nathan said, his voice steady, his words biting, “because you failed. You were too busy playing your petty divine politics to put Cleopatra where she belonged — on the throne, not beneath her idiot brother. You chained yourself with your own laws, Isis. The same laws that stop you from truly acting in the mortal world.”

Her eyes flared with cold silver light.”Where does that arrogance come from?” She asked softly — dangerously.

It was almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of eternity.

For a fleeting moment, she studied him, her divine gaze searching his soul. He stood before her — a mortal, a mere man — and yet he spoke without reverence. Without fear. It was unnatural. He addressed her not as a worshiper, but as an equal — or worse, as if she were beneath him.

“As expected of Aphrodite’s Hero,” Isis said at last, her voice dripping with disdain. “You carry her arrogance well. But remember this, mortal — I am not Aphrodite. I am Isis, and I do not tolerate failure.”

Her divine aura expanded like a storm, shaking the air around them. The roof trembled under her presence; the very night seemed to recoil. Her power pressed down on Nathan, testing, threatening — daring him to show weakness.

But Nathan did not move. His white hair fluttered softly in the wind as he stared back at her, eyes calm, lips curved faintly upward.

If the goddess sought fear, she would find none here.

“First of all,” Nathan began, his voice calm, dangerously so, “I haven’t failed. I will bring down Caesar, and Rome itself will kneel beneath my will. The Heroes you think you’ve lost — they will return to Alexandria, just as I intended. Every move, every word, every whisper I’ve placed has already set the stage for it.”

There was no trace of hesitation in his tone. His confidence was absolute — the kind that came not from arrogance, but from a mind that saw farther than gods or kings could dream.

He had not toyed with Freja and Elin merely for pleasure or conquest, though none could deny their beauty — radiant, strong, and worthy of admiration and he indeed liked these women but.

No, Nathan had chosen them for a far greater purpose. In them, he saw potential — the makings of leaders, warriors who could rise above the naïve and self-serving fools like Johanna, Axel, and Isak. Those three were tools, disposable pawns. Freja and Elin, however, were pieces worth keeping on the board.

Once Freja regained her leadership status over Axel she would guide the remnants of her class back to Alexandria. There, under Nathan’s subtle direction, they would rally behind Cleopatra and strengthen her reign.

“Secondly,” Nathan continued, and as he spoke, a sharp gleam flashed in his eyes, “you are mistaken about something far more important.”

The wind stirred around him. His crimson eyes shifted, darkening and deepening into a molten gold — a shade that burned with something otherworldly, demonic. His original true eyes.

“Cleopatra,” he said slowly, his voice ice cold, “is my woman.”

Each word rang with quiet finality.

“She already knows what I’m doing,” he went on. “She trusts me — not you. You’d have to be a fool to believe she would ever take your word over mine. And if, by some miracle, she does…” His voice dropped, low and dangerous, a faint smile ghosting his lips, “I will remind her who she belongs to. I’ll show her again and again that her throne, her power, her destiny — all of it — flows from me. You didn’t lift a finger to crown her, Goddess. I did. I gave her the throne, and I will be the one to bring Rome itself to its knees.”

His words cut through the air like tempered steel. There was no reverence, no humility — only conviction, sharpness. Something beyond mere arrogance emanated from him now, something raw and terrifying.

This was Nathan stripped bare — not the man who had softened within Rome’s marble halls, but the ruthless being who stood before gods and defied them without flinching.

When he was pushed, when the threat became real, his mask fell away. What remained was the original Nathan — cold, calculating, and merciless. He had thrown away his vision of seeing women as disposable tools but everything else he had learnt through his father was there and sharpened through death and sufferings even Gods could withstand.

No god could sway him. No divinity could frighten him.

He had faced far worse than Isis before, and he had survived them all.

The goddess’s expression did not change. Her face was a perfect mask — serene, cold, and unreadable.

How dare he speak to her this way? She was a goddess, ancient and vast. A single thought from her could snuff out a mortal life like a candle’s flame. And yet… she couldn’t move against him.

Not because of weakness, but because something in his words — in his gaze — rang true.

He was not boasting. He was declaring fate.

And she, for all her power, could do nothing to stop it.

If he really meant it and seemed so confident, she should just let him do it then…

Nathan’s eyes gleamed as he straightened, his tone turning icy.

“Stay back,” he said. “Do what you’ve always done, Isis.”

Each syllable dripped with scorn.

“Watch.”

Isis’s jaw tightened. Her fists clenched at her sides, divine light flickering faintly between her fingers. But no word came. No curse. No command.

Only silence.

Then, with a final glare that betrayed her wounded pride, she vanished — dissolving into the ether with a shimmer of silver light.

Nathan’s golden gaze lingered upon the space where she had stood, unblinking. Then, slowly, he turned his eyes toward the horizon.

Dawn was breaking. The first threads of sunlight crept across the rooftops, painting the city in hues of amber and gold. Rome, still restless beneath the weight of night’s confusion, was stirring once again.

Nathan exhaled softly, letting the last trace of his demonic aura fade. His golden eyes dimmed, shifting back to a calmer crimson — the mask of the man Rome believed him to be.