I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

A jagged rift, dark and pulsating with an eerie energy, tore across the boundless expanse of a desert that defied reality. The sky above was a void, colorless and endless, with no sun to light the golden sands stretching infinitely in every direction. This was no place on Earth—no familiar wind, no scent of life, only the hollow whisper of a foreign dimension that seemed suspended in time.

Nathan stood still, his boots half-sunk into the sand, the warm grains clinging to his feet as if trying to pull him down. Moments ago, he had been engulfed by a blinding light—drawn alongside Sekhmet, the fierce Egyptian war goddess—and now found himself face-to-face with another divine being. The oppressive silence was broken only by the soft hum of power emanating from the figure standing ahead.

She was a vision of divine regality.

The woman before him had hair as black as obsidian, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall, reaching all the way to her waist. Her eyes, shining like polished silver mirrors, held an ancient knowledge and an otherworldly calm. Every movement she made was fluid and deliberate, as though gravity and time deferred to her presence.

She wore a flowing gown of pure white linen, woven with golden threads that shimmered faintly with every motion, hugging her graceful frame like a divine tapestry. Around her neck and arms were delicate yet resplendent jewels—lapis lazuli, emeralds, and rubies—each piece carefully chosen, not for ornamentation alone, but to symbolize her status and power. A golden circlet adorned her brow, nestled above her ethereal eyes.

Nathan's breath caught for a moment. She was not just beautiful—she was divine. Every fiber of her presence screamed deity. He had encountered many gods by now, each more incredible than the last, but this woman radiated a serenity and authority that felt far older, deeper. Her mere presence weighed heavily on the soul, and Nathan instinctively knew he stood before one of the highest beings among the gods.

And yet—he didn't recognize her.

Not immediately.

His mind scrambled to place her—through his experiences, he had learned to distinguish gods by their aura, by their bearing, by the essence they exuded. And this woman, judging by her attire, her jewels, and the divine stillness surrounding her, clearly hailed from the Egyptian pantheon. But which one?

His silent question was answered when Sekhmet's voice rang out beside him, sharp and accusatory.

"Why did you bring us here, Isis?"

Nathan narrowed his eyes.

Isis.

Of course. One of the most renowned and revered goddesses in all of Egyptian mythology. A name etched in every pantheon scholar's mind. She wasn't just a goddess—she was the goddess of magic, motherhood, and royalty. A figure of supreme importance, second to none in influence and reverence. In many texts, her power even surpassed that of Hera or Athena, making her one of the highest in any divine hierarchy.

"That should be my question, Sekhmet," Isis replied, her voice smooth like flowing water, yet sharp enough to cut steel. "What exactly were you doing there?"

Sekhmet's stance stiffened, her golden eyes narrowing.

"You dare ask me that, Isis, despite knowing perfectly well why I intervened?" she said, her tone simmering with restrained fury. "You were one of the gods who promised to safeguard Alexander's city and his legacy. Yet here you are—questioning me—while you stand silently by those who intend to tear it apart."

"We're not here to destroy anything," Nathan said, his eyes locked on Isis. "We're here to restore what was stolen. To give the throne back to its rightful heir—the true ruler of the Amun-Ra Empire: Cleopatra."

Isis tilted her head slightly, studying him, but said nothing. It was Sekhmet who answered instead.

"The boy on the throne now is just as legitimate," she said calmly. "He was chosen by his people, Nathan. Chosen by those who remained."

Nathan scoffed, unable to hold back his contempt.

"Chosen by his people?" he echoed, a smirk playing on his lips. "He was handpicked by a pack of greedy nobles—leeches desperate to cling to their power after the Pharaoh's death. Don't twist the truth to make it convenient. The former Pharaoh named Cleopatra as his heir. She was his daughter, his blood, and he trusted her to lead. But the nobles feared her—feared her strength, her cunning, her independence. She wouldn't be their puppet. So they cast her aside using mercenaries and political sabotage. She's not the usurper here. She's the victim. The one who was betrayed by those who should have protected her. And you… You're defending the ones who spat on their own oaths and laws for the sake of their selfish gain."

"It doesn't matter," Sekhmet said sharply, her eyes flashing with restrained fury. "The city of Alexandria is under attack."

"We swore an oath to protect Alexander's legacy from external threats," Isis replied coolly, her silver gaze remaining fixed on Sekhmet. "But this isn't an external threat."

Sekhmet scoffed, her lips curling in disdain. "Isn't it, you say? Then perhaps your definition of 'external' is as twisted as your loyalties. The flags those invaders carry don't belong to that Cleopatra alone."

She couldn't identify them precisely, but Nathan could.

He knew exactly who she referred to.

The Roman banners. The unmistakable crimson standards of Caesar's legions. Warriors from across the sea, now marching through the streets of Alexandria. Nathan clenched his fists, the image of Caesar at the head of the Roman advance burning in his mind. It was no longer just a war for succession—it had become a conquest under the guise of alliance. And maybe, just maybe, Caesar was beginning to overstep his role.

Still, Nathan didn't waver in his stance.

"He's helping Cleopatra reclaim what's rightfully hers," Nathan said firmly, his tone laced with defiance. "She's far more worthy than that pathetic little brother of hers."

Sekhmet's head snapped toward him.

A divine chill swept over the sands.

"How dare you interrupt me, human?" she hissed, her voice a low snarl beneath the grandeur of her form. Her eyes narrowed into glowing slits, and for a moment, the air around Nathan grew heavy—oppressive. A dull pressure began to mount in his chest, as if the goddess's fury could crush the life from him with mere intent.

But Nathan met her gaze without flinching.

"I corrected your misunderstanding," he said flatly, his voice unshaken, devoid of fear. "That's all."

The weight of her wrath bore down on him like the heat of a hundred suns. For a moment, he truly thought she might strike—end his life right there, in the middle of this divine limbo. But before Sekhmet could act, a quiet but commanding voice cut through the mounting storm.

"He is the Hero of Darkness."

Isis's words fell like a drop of ink in still water—small, but deeply rippling.

Sekhmet's fury faltered, her expression tightening as she turned back toward Isis.

"What?" she muttered.

"You must have heard the rumors, Sekhmet," Isis said softly, though her words carried weight. "His appearance has caused no small stir in the celestial realms. He's not just some mortal meddling in divine affairs—he inherited that power. The Dark Magic of the Demon King."

Sekhmet's gaze returned to Nathan, but this time, it was laced with caution rather than contempt. Her eyes studied him more carefully now, as if she were looking through him—examining not just his flesh, but the chaos that pulsed inside.

"That… might explain a few things," she muttered. "But it's not just that. I can feel traces of other divine signatures on him—blessings. Two… no, three… perhaps even more."

She sounded almost bewildered, even disturbed.

Sekhmet, a goddess of war and fire, was not easily rattled. And yet the presence that surrounded Nathan—the strange amalgamation of conflicting divine energies—was too bizarre even for her.

What she sensed, she couldn't fully name. One of the blessings, in particular, sent a chill through her. A cold, sinister whisper that brushed the edges of her consciousness like a shadow lurking just out of sight.

Nathan knew exactly what she was feeling.

Khione.

Amaterasu.

Aphrodite.

And most unnerving of all—Thana.

Four goddesses, each powerful in their own right. Each with their own reasons for entwining their power with his. But Nathan had no intention of unveiling any of that—not here, not now. The less they knew, the better.

Then Isis said something that caught even him off guard.

"Aphrodite summoned him," she said calmly, as if stating a well-known fact.

Nathan's eyes snapped toward her, narrowing.

What?

That wasn't public knowledge. Not even Sekhmet should have known. Aphrodite herself had been meticulous—almost paranoid—in how she concealed her connection to him. She had gone to great lengths to keep their involvement hidden from the rest of the divine pantheons. There was no way Isis should have known.

He looked at her suspiciously, his mind racing. Had Aphrodite slipped up? Or… was Isis simply far more well-informed than he'd realized?

Either possibility made his skin crawl.

There was something unsettling about Isis—something beneath the calm exterior and quiet wisdom. Her knowledge ran too deep, too far. And Nathan, despite all his bravado, didn't like how easily she could read him.

He knew almost nothing about her.

And that was what made her dangerous.

"Aphrodite?" Sekhmet's tone shifted, her voice edged with disbelief. "She did?"

Her expression betrayed a flicker of genuine surprise—something rare for a goddess whose wrath usually eclipsed every other emotion.

Isis, still calm and poised, nodded once. "Yes. But there is something else as well."

Her silver eyes turned slowly toward Nathan, glimmering like starlight against the shadowy expanse of the desert dimension. And then—she smiled.

It was a faint smile, barely noticeable, but in that moment it struck Nathan harder than any divine proclamation.

A quiet chill spread through his spine.

That look… it wasn't curiosity, nor judgment.

It was recognition.

She knew.

Suddenly, Nathan could feel it—like a thousand puzzle pieces clicking into place. Isis didn't just know who he was. She knew everything.

That he had been summoned by Khione first, not Aphrodite.

That he was that Nathan.

She knew he wasn't merely a Hero of Darkness, but the an anomaly summoned by the Light Empire.

Nathan's expression tightened. His gaze remained locked with Isis's as questions surged inside him like a storm.

Why?

Why was she holding back this truth from Sekhmet?

She could have easily turned and said it outright: that he was one of the so-called "Heroes" summoned by the Light Empire.

But she didn't.

Instead she said he was summoned by Aphrodite keeping secret his true identity.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at her, heart thudding with suspicion.

What does she want from me?