I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

"I've had enough of you," he said, voice low and steady, a razor pressed against her soul. The words cut sharper than any blade.

His sword lowered, its golden edge glinting dangerously. "Now… you'd better prove yourself useful to me."

Lilia's legs were locked to the ground, the biting chill of ice crawling up her skin until even the smallest twitch felt impossible. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, each inhale trembling, each exhale filled with disbelief. Her wide eyes, burning with humiliation and desperation, fixed themselves on Nathan.

"J…just who are you…?" she managed to breathe out, her voice tight with anger and shaken pride.

For someone like her—a Hero forged through nearly a decade of battles in this alien world, who had endured her second awakening and triumphed over foes most mortals could not even dream of—this defeat was inconceivable. To be brought down so swiftly, so effortlessly, by this stranger who called himself Septimius… it was unthinkable. If that was even his real name.

Nathan, however, remained indifferent to her disbelief. His expression was calm, detached, and edged with cruel mockery.

"You don't need to know who I am," he said, his tone cold and razor-sharp. "But I see it in your eyes—you have no intention of speaking. Logan had that same defiance when I captured him. He glared at me with the same righteous fire you're showing now… swore he would never betray anything, never yield. Yet in the end, after the torture began, he screamed. He cried. He begged me to stop." Nathan tilted his head, his lips curling into a scornful smile. "And then he spilled every secret he had. What a shame of a Hero he turned out to be."

His words cut deeper than the ice that bound her.

"Y...you…" Lilia's teeth ground together as fury and despair welled inside her. Her fists clenched with the intent to resist, to prove him wrong, to show that she was not as weak-willed as Logan.

But the instant she tried to move, her arms froze solid, locked in place by an invisible surge of magic that was faster than even her awakened reflexes could follow.

Her breath caught. Her eyes widened in horror.

How fast had he been? She hadn't even seen him raise a hand. And that cold—unnatural and merciless—what was it? Ice magic? No… something more refined, more precise.

"Don't attempt anything foolish," Nathan's voice dropped lower, dangerous and absolute. His sword, gleaming with a merciless chill, shifted until the tip pointed directly at one of her frozen legs. "Disobedience has a price. I'll take one of your legs as punishment."

Lilia clenched her eyes shut, bracing for the searing agony that was about to follow, a scream already threatening to rip itself from her throat—

Then an explosion shattered the air.

The desert sands erupted with force, smoke and dust spiraling into the sky. The impact thundered in Nathan's chest, and his instincts screamed danger. He leapt back instantly, sliding across the scorched sand, sword raised and body tense. His eyes narrowed as he peered into the rolling veil of smoke.

Figures began to emerge. Shadows first, then the outlines of bodies, until the haze peeled away to reveal them fully.

For a fleeting moment, Nathan thought it might be Aaron's group—yet no, these weren't them.

The first man who stepped forward bore a face Nathan remembered. Sharp features. Piercing blue eyes. Recognition flashed through his mind—he had seen this man before, in the gladiator arena, leading his companions.

"Ethan…" Lilia spat his name, her voice cutting through the air, her glare shifting from Nathan to the newcomer.

"Lilia." Ethan's response was quieter, his tone carrying a weight of conflict. His expression twisted between concern and disapproval, as though torn between emotions he couldn't quite reconcile.

Nathan, unshaken, raised his blade again and leveled it at Ethan. His mind was already racing, threads of suspicion pulling into something undeniable.

"What are you doing here?" His tone was accusatory, but his eyes already betrayed understanding.

Ethan didn't flinch. "I am her classmate. And also a Hero—summoned in the second wave by the Light Empire."

"I know who you are," Nathan said flatly. "Your group fought the Demon King… and that traitor's faction. That woman's faction." His blade tilted slightly toward Lilia, who returned the glare with venom in her eyes. "So tell me, would you object if I take her with me?"

Ethan's gaze hardened. "Why do you need her?"

"That doesn't concern you." Nathan's stance shifted, his weight evenly balanced, his voice neutral and cold. He had no intention of revealing his purpose—nor did he trust Ethan or his companions enough to consider it.

The tension spiked as more figures stepped from the smoke.

A blonde-haired woman stood at Ethan's side, her eyes narrowing at Nathan with visible annoyance. "Isn't he a little too cocky for a newly summoned Hero?" she muttered, her tone dripping with disdain.

Another voice cut across hers, firmer, edged with caution. "Don't underestimate him, Jane. Look at Lilia. If you're careless, you'll end up just like her."

The speaker was a woman with luminous green hair that shimmered faintly under the desert sun, her deep blue eyes sharp and watchful. She crossed her arms, her entire posture calm yet predatory, as though analyzing Nathan with a strategist's precision.

Olivia Kane.

Lastly, there was another man—quiet, unreadable, his black hair shadowing his expression. His silence said more than words, his watchful gaze taking everything in with unnerving calm.

Lan.

Nathan's attention, however, remained locked on two of them—Ethan and Olivia. The others were dangerous in their own rights, but those two radiated a presence beyond the ordinary. Their power wasn't just human—it brushed against divinity.

Demigods.

Nathan's grip on his sword tightened. His eyes narrowed to cold slits.

If battle broke out here, even with all his strength, he knew the truth. He could not face both of them at once and hope to walk away unscathed.

The air between the two groups thickened, heavy with suspicion, hostility, and the promise of blood.

Medea stood silently at Nathan's side, ready to strike at the faintest sign of hostility. Every line of her posture spoke of restrained violence, of a predator awaiting permission to pounce. Beside her, Freja remained frozen in bewilderment, her wide eyes darting between Nathan, Ethan, and the other Heroes. She was utterly lost, the weight of the situation pressing down on her until confusion and shock were all she could manage.

"Unfortunately," Ethan's voice broke the silence, steady but edged with steel, "I can't hand her over to you. Torturing her? Killing her? Is that truly what you intend?"

Nathan's cold gaze slid back toward him, his expression unreadable. "Does it matter?" His voice cut like a blade through the dry air. "She tried to kill me first."

"That may be true," Ethan admitted, his stance tightening, though his tone did not waver. "But we'll take responsibility for her now. If you have questions, direct them at me—I'll answer them." He paused deliberately, his blue eyes narrowing. "But first, there's something I want to know. What is your true goal, Septimius—" his lips curved faintly, the weight of revelation pressing down on the moment, "—or should I say, Nathan Parker?"

At that name, the world seemed to constrict.

Nathan's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his body coiling with instinctive tension. It wasn't just another alias stripped away. Not even Samael's shadowed persona, but Nathan Parker himself.

How much did they truly know?

"I think…" Ethan's tone shifted, calm but laced with cautious intent, "we can work together."

Nathan's blade tilted slightly toward him, suspicion radiating from his stance. "Work… together?"

Ethan nodded once. "You seek to bring down Caesar. We want to stop Aaron from releasing Pandora. Those two have aligned themselves, so by definition, our enemies are the same. Indirectly… that makes us allies, don't you think?"

Nathan's eyes hardened, his voice laced with bitter distrust. "I don't think so. I don't know anything about you, or what you truly want."

"What we want is simple," Ethan said evenly. "Peace. To stop Aaron. And, when it's all over… to find a way back to our world without more bloodshed." His words carried conviction, but Nathan searched for cracks, for the hidden rot beneath such lofty claims.

Nathan's silence lingered before he asked, abruptly and without warning, "What were you doing these last five years?"

Ethan's reply came immediately, almost too quickly. "Hiding. Recovering from what the Demon King did to us." His voice was steady, but Nathan's instincts gnawed at him, whispering of half-truths buried beneath the surface.

Still, Nathan's expression remained cold, unyielding. His skepticism only deepened.

"Do whatever you want," he said at last, each word deliberate, final. "But don't get in my way." His blade lowered, but only slightly, before his finger lifted to point directly at Lilia. His eyes gleamed with an icy promise. "And the next time I see her—whether she is with you or not—I will kill her."

The words struck the air like a sentence passed.

Without another glance, Nathan turned. He gave Medea a single nod, silent command in his eyes. At once, she began weaving the intricate symbols of a teleportation spell, the air trembling faintly with shifting power.

Behind them, Ethan's voice rang out one final time, calm but carrying the weight of a challenge. "Then let's see where we stand at the tournament, Nathan." He raised a hand in a half-wave, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

Nathan didn't answer. The light of the teleportation flared, and in the blink of an eye, he and his companions were gone—leaving only silence, smoke, and the unspoken war that hung heavy in the desert air.