I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC322: Poseidon and Hera's plan
Chapter 322: Poseidon and Hera's plan
Hera was livid. Her divine essence seethed with an incandescent fury that threatened to shake the very foundations of Olympus itself. The unthinkable had happened—the Greeks had lost the Trojan War.
It felt like a waking nightmare, a cruel jest woven by the Fates themselves. How could such a thing be possible? The Greeks had been the stronger force, their army vast and composed of the finest warriors to ever walk the earth. More than that, they had been led by the greatest of their kind—mighty kings and warriors who had carved their names into history with blood and steel.
Agamemnon, the High King, had been slain. Menelaus, who had sought vengeance for his stolen wife, lay dead. Ajax, the indomitable warrior, had fallen. Even Heracles, the son of Zeus himself, had perished. It was inconceivable.
By all logic, by all divine decree, the Greeks should have triumphed. Their superiority was undeniable. Even the gods themselves had tipped the scales in their favor. Hera herself, alongside Athena—the goddess of wisdom and victory—had stood unwaveringly behind the Greeks. And yet, it had not been enough. Despite their backing, despite their meticulous interference, the Greeks had been utterly and irrevocably defeated.
The final blow to her expectations, the ultimate betrayal of fate, had come from Achilles. He had been her trump card, the lynchpin of her grand design. Yet, in a turn of events that defied all reason, he had changed sides. The mighty Achilles had abandoned the Greeks, lured away by love, and had even fathered a child. It was incomprehensible. It was infuriating.
Everything had been set in place for a Greek victory. The Trojans had been vastly outmatched—only Hector, their noble prince, and the Amazonian queen Penthesilea had been worth mentioning. And yet, against all odds, against every law of destiny, Troy had emerged victorious. Both Hector and Penthesilea still lived, standing triumphant amidst the ruins of what should have been their downfall.
But Hera knew—this unnatural shift in fate had a cause. A single man had tipped the balance of history, reshaping the very fabric of the war itself.
His name was Heiron, but he was known as the Hero of Darkness.
Or, as Hera now understood with bitter clarity, his true name—Nathan Parker.
A man who should not exist.
He had once been summoned by the Light Emperor, a chosen hero, only to be struck down and slaughtered by the accursed Liphiel. He should have remained dead. And yet, defying death itself, he had returned. Not once, but twice.
And this time, he had turned the tide of war.
Nathan Parker—Heiron, Samael, the accursed Hero of Darkness—had slain Ajax. He had slain Heracles. And in the final, crushing moment of victory, he had cut down Agamemnon himself.
The Greeks had never stood a chance.
Hera trembled with rage. She had tried—oh, how she had tried—to rid the world of him. Time and time again, she had reached out with her divine might to end him before he could reshape destiny. She had sent assassins, conjured plagues, whispered omens of doom to those who could act against him. And yet, every time, her efforts had been thwarted.
Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Ares—those meddling gods—had shielded him at every turn, countering her every move, ensuring his survival.
And now, it was too late.
Nathan Parker had won.
And the last look he had given her before vanishing from the battlefield… it had been a promise. A silent, chilling promise.
A promise of vengeance.
Hera clenched her fists, her divine nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw golden ichor.
Nathan Parker was dangerous.
And he was coming for her.
Hera did not know when, nor did she know how. But she was certain of one thing—he would come. The look he had given her after Troy's fall had been more than enough to make her uneasy. It was not the glare of a mere mortal who despised a goddess. No, it was something far worse. It was the look of a man who had already decided her fate.
She had witnessed ambition, hatred, and revenge countless times over the centuries, but never before had she felt such an ominous foreboding. Nathan was progressing at an alarming rate, far faster than anyone should. His strength, his influence, his very existence were growing into something monstrous, something unnatural.
At the rate he was advancing, there would come a time when even she—Hera, Queen of the Gods—would not be able to touch him. And that was unacceptable.
That was why she had made up her mind.
He had to die.
The Trojan War was over, which meant Apollo, Artemis, and the others who had protected him would no longer interfere. Their interests had been tied to the war, but now that it was settled, Nathan was nothing more than a loose end—a powerful, unpredictable anomaly that needed to be erased before he became untouchable.
And now, she had her chance.
Hera's opportunity came the moment Hermes informed her that Nathan had left Troy and was traveling to Lyrnessus. She did not hesitate. Summoning the mighty sea god, she called upon Poseidon himself.
She needed no elaborate persuasion—Poseidon was already eager to act.
Nathan had used Khione's power during the war, unleashing its full force on the battlefield. That had not gone unnoticed. The moment he had done so, Poseidon had sensed her presence. Had it not been for Zeus's command forbidding him from interfering in the war, Poseidon would have struck Nathan down then and there.
But now, Zeus was no longer holding him back.
Now, Poseidon was free.
And he had no intention of letting this insult go unanswered.
Nathan Parker, a mere mortal—a man—had a connection to his Khione. The very thought of it was enough to make Poseidon seethe with rage. A mortal wielding the power of the goddess of snow and frost? It was an affront. An impossibility. Something that should not exist.
If not for Zeus's decree, he would have drowned all of Troy in a towering wave of divine fury. But now, patience had rewarded him. The opportunity had come.
Hera and Poseidon descended from the heavens, their divine forms shimmering as they stepped onto the mortal plane. They hovered above the city of Lyrnessus, looking down at their prey.
Poseidon turned his gaze to Hera, his deep blue eyes filled with anticipation. "Zeus… what of him?" he asked, wary of his brother's watchful gaze.
Hera's expression darkened, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Do not concern yourself with him," she said coldly.
With a snap of her fingers, a shimmering veil of divine energy rippled outward, engulfing the entire city below. A barrier—one crafted from her own divine authority.
"He will not see anything that happens here," she continued, her voice dripping with confidence.
Poseidon grinned. "Good. Just to be sure…"
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers as well, layering his own divine barrier over hers. The twin divine seals pulsed, entwining and solidifying into an impenetrable shroud.
Even Zeus himself would not be able to see through it—not unless he came down to Lyrnessus in person. And why would he? The city was insignificant. There was no reason for him to interfere.
They were free to do as they pleased.
Poseidon crossed his arms and looked at Hera expectantly. "Are you certain he's here?"
Hera smirked.
"Yes," she said, her eyes gleaming with malice.
"Look."
Poseidon followed Hera's gaze, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto the lone figure emerging from the grand halls of Lyrnessus.
It was him.
Nathan Parker.
The mortal walked with an air of quiet confidence, his every step unhurried, oblivious to the divine eyes that watched from above. There was no sign of tension in his posture, no flicker of awareness that he was being hunted. He was simply… walking.
Poseidon tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "What is he doing here alone?" he mused aloud.
Hera scoffed beside him, folding her arms across her chest. "Who cares?" she snapped. "Just get the information you want and kill him afterward."
Poseidon smirked. He had no objections to that.
In an instant, his divine presence flared, and he vanished from the sky. A heartbeat later, he reappeared directly in front of Nathan, blocking his path.
The earth trembled beneath him as he tapped the end of his golden trident against the ground, sending a wave of power rippling through the stone. Dust and debris scattered at the force, but the mortal before him did not flinch.
Nathan merely stopped in his tracks, his cold silver eyes locking onto Poseidon's with unnerving calmness.
The god of the sea grinned, tilting his head as he took in the sight of the man who had defied fate itself. "You have been quite busy, haven't you?" Poseidon mused, amusement dripping from his voice. "Dying… getting reborn by some unknown force… and then killing Agamemnon. But tell me—" He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "Did you really think you could get away scot-free after drawing the attention of so many gods?"
The ground beneath them rumbled as he pressed his trident against the earth once more, cracks splitting outward like veins of destruction. Yet despite the show of power, Nathan remained eerily composed.
"Are you here to kill me?" the mortal asked, his voice level, unreadable. "Both of you?"
Poseidon chuckled darkly. "Oh?" He glanced up at Hera, who still hovered above, watching with cold, detached satisfaction. "No, only Hera wants you dead." His smirk grew. "I only want information about my dear Khione."
A lie.
Nathan could tell instantly.
The way Poseidon's eyes gleamed with malice, the way his fingers tightened around the shaft of his trident ever so slightly—it was obvious. Even if he handed over the information, Poseidon would not let him leave this place alive.
Nathan had already been sentenced.
The god of the sea was merely waiting to pass judgment.
Nathan's lips curled slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Does Zeus know that the two of you are here?" he asked next.
Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, his voice deep and resounding like the crashing of waves against an unshaken cliff. "Kahaha! You're hoping for my brother to save you? How foolish." His laughter faded into a low, predatory chuckle. "No. Zeus won't be coming. He doesn't even know where we are. No one does."
His smile turned cold. "So you'd best start talking."
But then—
Nathan's smirk deepened.
He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his demonic gold eyes.
"No one knows you said?"
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC323: Fight against Poseidon and Hera
Chapter 323: Fight against Poseidon and Hera
"No one knows you said?"
Hera's frown deepened as she caught sight of the smug smirk playing on Nathan's lips.
"Why are you smiling? Have you lost your mind?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Before Nathan could respond, a deep, rumbling laughter echoed through the air—Poseidon's laughter, mocking and carefree, as if he found the situation amusing.
Nathan's expression did not change, but his eyes darkened, the mirth vanishing in an instant. "Not at all. I'm just pleased to see both of you here," he said smoothly, his gaze lifting to meet theirs.
The warmth in his voice was gone in a heartbeat.
BADOOOM!
An overwhelming force surged through the air, and in an instant, the city of Lyrnessus was consumed by a deadly, biting cold. Ice spread with terrifying speed, a crystalline wave swallowing everything in sight. The buildings, the streets, even the very ground—encased in thick, unrelenting frost. Poseidon, caught off guard, barely had a moment to react before his body was frozen solid where he stood, his expression of shock preserved beneath the ice.
Hera's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What?!"
She knew this power. She recognized it. But before she could process what was happening, a series of shimmering golden barriers materialized in the sky, encasing the city within multiple layers of divine protection. Three barriers—each distinct from the others. This wasn't just a single divine force at play.
A realization struck her like a lightning bolt.
Three different divine barriers…
Hera's instincts screamed at her in warning. Danger. Immediate, overwhelming danger.
She turned, preparing to summon her power—
BADOOOOM!
A searing column of fire crashed down from the heavens, engulfing her entire form in an inferno of divine flames. The sheer force of the impact sent her spiraling through the air before she plummeted to the frozen earth below, colliding with the ground so violently that the city trembled.
Pain exploded through her body. Her very bones ached from the impact.
But that pain was nothing compared to the sheer horror rising in her chest as she recognized the flames that had struck her.
A name escaped her lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible.
"A…Amaterasu?!"
Disbelief flooded her. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to look up—and there, floating above her, bathed in a crimson glow, was Amaterasu herself. The goddess gazed down upon Hera with an unreadable expression before slowly raising a hand, divine energy crackling at her fingertips.
BADOOOOM!
The ground beneath Hera erupted in a blinding explosion of red divine light. She barely had time to react before the force sent her staggering backward, her armor cracking under the sheer magnitude of power.
"Damn it!" she hissed, summoning her shield in desperation.
BADOOOOM!
The shield held—for a moment.
Then it shattered, the impact sending her skidding across the ice-covered ground. Blood trickled down her forehead, her vision swimming.
She couldn't afford to stop. She needed to move.
Forcing herself up, she sprinted toward the remnants of a nearby house, hoping to regroup, but just as she leaped onto the roof—
BADDOOOOOOOM!
Another explosion erupted. This time, it wasn't fire.
A freezing storm of ice engulfed her, the numbing cold seeping into her very bones. Hera's breath hitched, her movements slowing, her limbs heavy. She fought to regain control, but before she could counterattack—
A shadow descended upon her. Amaterasu appeared, wielding a blazing sword that burned hotter than the sun.
Hera barely had time to raise her arms in defense before the sword came crashing down.
BADOOOOM!!!
The sheer force sent her soaring through the air before she slammed into the frozen ground yet again, a crater forming beneath her.
Coughing, her entire body aching, she struggled to push herself up. But before she could even catch her breath—
A heel came crashing down against her stomach.
BADAAAAM!
"UAGHH!" Hera's mouth opened in a sharp gasp as blood spewed from her lips.
Her dazed vision flickered, trying to focus on the figure standing over her. A feminine silhouette, her aura radiating with divine power.
And then she saw the smirk. The unmistakable, cruel grin stretching across her lips.
Aphrodite.
Standing above her, reveling in her pain, looking every bit the goddess of beauty and destruction.
"You look awful, Hera," Aphrodite purred, her tone dripping with amusement. "Let's see how much more you can take."
BADOOOM!
Hera unleashed a torrent of divine energy, forcing Aphrodite to swiftly dodge. The goddess of beauty smirked as she evaded the attack, her expression playful yet laced with menace.
"A…Aphrodite, you little bitch…"
Hera's face twisted with fury, her eyes burning with an anger she had never felt so intensely before. Her blood boiled as she turned toward Amaterasu, her rage now shifting to the sun goddess floating above.
"Even you, Amaterasu… how dare you…" she spat venomously.
Amaterasu met Hera's glare with an impassive expression, her golden eyes radiating calm yet unshakable power. "You should have never come here, Hera. The moment you stepped into Lyrnessus, your fate—and Poseidon's—was sealed."
She cast a fleeting glance at Poseidon, who had just shattered the thick ice imprisoning him. The sea god's muscles tensed as he regained his footing, his expression a mix of rage and confusion. Hera's own eyes widened in shock as she surveyed their surroundings.
The barriers, the city, the very ground beneath their feet—it was all pulsating with divine energy. An eerie shimmer coated the air, signifying that this battlefield had been carefully prepared long before their arrival. The moment of realization hit her like a thunderclap.
"H…Hermes…"
Her mind flashed to the cunning trickster god, his ever-present grin taunting her even in her thoughts. Hera's body trembled with fury. That bastard had deceived her. Everything—Nathan's supposed isolation, his presence in this city—it had all been an elaborate trap, meticulously crafted to ensnare both her and Poseidon.
And they had walked right into it.
"P…Poseidon! We must flee! The city is a trap!" Hera shouted desperately, panic creeping into her voice.
But Poseidon was deaf to her warning. His focus was solely on the figure standing before him—Khione. His sea-green eyes raked over her, a twisted grin forming on his lips as he licked them hungrily.
"Khione."
He practically purred her name, his gaze drinking in her ethereal beauty. "Finally, you're back where you belong. I've missed you more than you can imagine. Now come to me, and let's have that promised night together."
Khione's expression remained cold, her frosty blue eyes piercing into his with disgust. "Unfortunately for you, Poseidon, that ship has sailed. I lost my virginity."
The words hung in the air like a death knell.
Poseidon's grin faltered, then vanished completely. His divine aura darkened, the very foundation of the city trembling under the weight of his swirling emotions. "What?" he growled, his voice thick with barely restrained fury.
Khione pointed toward Nathan. "Nathan took my first time."
A sickening silence followed.
Poseidon's eyes darted to Nathan, who stood nearby with an insufferable smirk playing on his lips. For the sea god, that smirk was the final spark to ignite his wrath.
He vanished in an instant.
BADOOOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the city as Poseidon swung his trident, aiming to cleave Nathan in two. But before the weapon could strike, an impenetrable wall of glacial ice erupted between them. The impact was catastrophic—the ice cracked violently before shattering into a storm of frost and shards, yet Nathan was nowhere to be found.
Poseidon's furious gaze darted around, his grip on his trident tightening. The city quaked beneath his rage, but the battle had only just begun.
"WHERE ARE YOU, TRASH?!!"
Poseidon's thunderous roar echoed across the battlefield, his expression twisted into a mask of unrelenting fury. His ocean-blue eyes burned with murderous intent, his grip tightening around his trident until the metal groaned in protest. Every fiber of his being screamed for destruction—to unleash a cataclysmic tsunami and reduce everything in sight to ruin. But he knew he couldn't. Not here. Not now. If he did, Zeus would intervene, and he wasn't willing to risk his brother's interference.
No, this was personal.
He wanted to find Nathan. He wanted to rip the insolent brat apart, tear him limb from limb, and listen to him beg for mercy that would never come.
But just as he took another step forward—
A searing torrent of golden flames crashed into his face, sending waves of unbearable heat washing over his body. The divine fire of Amaterasu seared his flesh, and he let out a guttural snarl as he stumbled backward. Before he could fully regain his balance, a shadow loomed above him.
A massive greatsword, nearly the size of a mountain, came hurtling toward him at blinding speed.
Khione!
Poseidon's instincts kicked in, and he immediately raised his trident, summoning a torrential wave of water to counter the incoming attack. A vast surge of the ocean erupted from his weapon, spiraling toward the sword—only for the water to instantly solidify into ice.
"Tch!" He clicked his tongue in irritation, pouring more divine energy into his trident. This time, his water turned her ice back into liquid. Their divine powers clashed in a relentless battle, freezing and melting, shifting and reforming. But strangely, Khione refused to relent. She pushed forward with unrelenting determination, forcing him back.
Step by step.
Inch by inch.
Until—
His back slammed into something.
A massive, blazing wall of Amaterasu's fire had risen behind him, cutting him off from retreat. The scorching heat licked at his skin, sending waves of divine energy crashing against his body. To his right, an enormous glacier of Khione's ice had formed, sealing off any chance of escape.
He could destroy them.
It would take time. But it was possible.
Yet, wasting time was not an option.
Narrowing his eyes, Poseidon shifted his stance. Without hesitation, he leapt to the left, intending to escape the encirclement—
And then he saw him.
Nathan.
Sitting on the ground, completely at ease. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he had been expecting this moment all along.
Poseidon's fury ignited once more.
"You arrogant little—"
He shot forward, trident poised to strike.
"Idiot."
Nathan said a single word.
Poseidon's heart lurched.
Something was wrong.
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
And then he saw it.
The intricate formation surrounding him.
A colossal circle of divine power had been etched into the battlefield, glowing with an intensity that sent shivers of dread through his very core. Amaterasu's flames burned in one half, seething with unquenchable heat, while Khione's ice shimmered in the other, radiating a deathly frost. The energies crackled and intertwined, forming a perfect balance of destruction—one that had been prepared for days.
Poseidon's breath caught in his throat.
A true Divine Magic spell.
Forged by not one, but three goddesses.
It was a trap.
And he had walked right into it.
His eyes widened in horror.
"No…"
A split second later—
BADDOOOOOM!!!!
The battlefield erupted.
The heavens seemed to shatter as the explosion tore through the earth, splitting the ground as if a hole had been punched straight into the planet's core. A blinding inferno of divine fire and glacial destruction consumed everything in its path, swallowing Poseidon whole. The impact shook the very foundations of the world, sending shockwaves rippling across the land.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC324: Enslaving the Third Goddess
Chapter 324: Enslaving the Third Goddess
The heavens seemed to shatter as the explosion tore through the earth, splitting the ground as if a hole had been punched straight into the planet's core. A blinding inferno of divine fire and glacial destruction consumed everything in its path, swallowing Poseidon whole. The impact shook the very foundations of the world, sending shockwaves rippling across the land.
Fortunately, the devastation did not extend beyond the confines of the city. From the outside, there was no indication of the battle raging within—no thunderous explosions, no cries of pain, not even the faintest echo of destruction. The reason for this eerie silence lay in the five divine barriers encasing Lyrnessus, powerful constructs woven by celestial hands to contain all sound, energy, and force within their shimmering confines.
To the rest of the world, the city remained untouched, undisturbed. At most, an occasional tremor might have rippled through the distant lands, subtle enough to be mistaken for a natural occurrence. No one outside would suspect that the gods themselves were waging war within these walls.
For a brief moment, thick plumes of smoke veiled the battlefield, obscuring the aftermath of the catastrophic assault. The ground where Poseidon had borne the full brunt of two Divine Rank Spells—spells that had been meticulously crafted and fortified over the past days—was nothing more than scorched ruin. The sheer force of the combined magic had shattered the terrain, leaving deep fissures in the earth, but more importantly, it had struck down one of the mightiest gods of Olympus.
And then, through the dissipating smoke, his figure emerged.
"GAGHR!"
A wet, gurgling sound tore through the battlefield as Poseidon staggered forward, blood spilling in a violent torrent from his mouth and splattering onto the charred ground beneath him. His once-pristine divine form was now a grotesque mockery of itself—his flesh, once unyielding and godlike, had been seared away in places, exposing the eerie, marble-white bones beneath. His body, though still standing, looked barely capable of sustaining itself.
By all rights, he should have perished from such an attack. Any lesser deity would have been obliterated. Yet Poseidon—God of the Seas, one of Olympus' greatest—still clung to existence, a testament to his unfathomable power. Even so, he had not emerged unscathed, and the weight of his own mortality settled over him like a suffocating tide.
He had fallen into a trap. A simple, foolish trap.
His ragged breaths came in uneven heaves, his chest rising and falling in strained desperation. A thin veil of water shimmered around his body, a desperate attempt to mend his injuries, to restore his divine frame. But it was slow. Agonizingly slow.
His gaze darkened. Gone was the arrogance, the amusement that once danced in his eyes. What remained was something colder, sharper—a seething rage that burned from within. He had come close to death. Too close. And that was something he could not—would not—forgive.
"K…Khione…" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his fury. His piercing gaze locked onto the goddess before him, standing with an air of icy indifference.
Again.
That look.
That cold, detached expression she always wore, as if he were beneath her notice.
How he had always wished to break it.
A slow, cruel smirk curled at the corner of his lips despite his pain.
"I am going to—"
"Divine Rank Skill."
A whisper, barely audible. Yet the moment it reached Poseidon's ears, an unnatural chill raced down his spine.
His instincts screamed at him, but it was already too late.
He turned sharply—only to feel a hand resting lightly against his back.
Nathan.
The white-haired mortal stood there, a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze gleaming with something unreadable. There was no hesitation. No mercy. Only the certainty of what came next.
"Death Curse."
The moment the words left Nathan's lips, the air shifted.
A dreadful, suffocating chill swept across the battlefield, wrapping around Poseidon like unseen chains. An unbearable coldness seeped into his very essence, an all-consuming void that gnawed at him from within. His body trembled violently as his knees buckled beneath him.
"Wha… what… is… happening…?"
His voice wavered in shock as his gaze dropped to his hands—only to see them being devoured by an abyssal blackness.
His very existence was unraveling.
He was going to die.
No—he was dying.
The realization struck Poseidon with the force of a tidal wave. His once-mighty body, revered and feared across the realms, was now succumbing to a force he had never imagined possible.
A mere mortal had bested him.
His wide, sea-colored eyes, once filled with arrogance and divine superiority, now reflected nothing but pure disbelief.
"I… Impossible!" he howled, his voice raw with desperation.
It was inconceivable. Unthinkable.
He was Poseidon—one of the Twelve Olympians, ruler of the seas, master of storms and tides! He had battled titans, laid waste to entire civilizations, and reshaped the very land with his trident. And yet… here he was, kneeling before a mortal, his divine essence unraveling like thread in the wind.
Nathan remained unfazed by his anguish. With a calm, almost dismissive tone, he turned his golden, demonic eyes toward the watching goddess.
"You can leave now, Khione," he said simply.
Khione had been standing silently, her icy gaze fixed upon Poseidon's writhing form.
For so many years, this man—no, this wretched god—had tormented her. She had lost count of how many times he had tried to force himself upon her, how many others had suffered his cruelty. She had no allies among the gods, no friends, because of him. His whims had dictated her existence, his arrogance had made her life a prison.
And now, at long last, he was paying the price.
All because of the man she had summoned.
Her cold eyes flickered toward Nathan, taking in his poised stance, the way his golden irises gleamed in the dim battlefield light. There was something undeniably captivating about him—this mortal who had done the impossible.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and for the first time in what felt like eternity she felt proud of having such a man as her husband, a faint blush warmed her usually frigid cheeks. She turned away, heading toward where Aphrodite and Amaterasu were battling Hera. If they hadn't already taken her down, she would ensure they did.
Nathan, meanwhile, took a slow, measured step forward, his gaze never leaving Poseidon.
"Look at you," he muttered, his voice carrying a trace of amusement. "The great Poseidon… reduced to this."
Poseidon's teeth clenched in pure hatred. His once-great form was shaking, his power ebbing away with every passing second. He forced himself to lift his gaze, his expression contorted with fury and humiliation.
"You… you bastard," he growled, his voice trembling from rage and pain.
Nathan remained unimpressed.
"You shouldn't have tried to lay a hand on Khione," he said coldly. His golden eyes darkened with possessiveness. "Khione is mine."
Poseidon's expression twisted further, his pride refusing to crumble even in the face of death.
"You… you will die for this," he spat, his voice rising with desperate conviction. "Killing a god is a crime beyond measure! My brothers will avenge me! Zeus—Hades—they will come for you!"
Nathan chuckled. A slow, deep laugh that sent a shiver down Poseidon's spine.
"They won't even know you were killed," he said, tilting his head slightly. "What are you talking about?"
The realization dawned on Poseidon like a hammer striking his skull.
The five Divine Barriers.
They sealed everything—sound, presence, divine energy. Not even Olympus could sense what had transpired within them. Even his own divine barrier, which had been meant to protect him, now worked against him.
He had dug his own grave.
For a fleeting moment, panic surged through him.
No one would even know.
Zeus might assume that Poseidon had retreated in shame, sulking in some distant corner of the world after the greeks lost the Trojan war. Hades, ever indifferent, would not question his absence. The gods would move on.
"You… you seem to understand now," Nathan murmured, watching Poseidon's expression shift from defiance to horror.
But still, the sea god refused to surrender completely. A flicker of hope burned within him.
"I… I won't die!" he declared, forcing strength into his voice. "I will go to Tartaros! I will be reborn in the Underworld, and there, I will find my brother Hades! He will know! He will—"
Nathan's smirk deepened.
Poseidon stopped.
Why… why wasn't the mortal reacting?
A creeping sense of dread crawled over him.
Nathan wasn't worried.
He knew something.
Something Poseidon didn't.
Nathan said nothing, but his smirk alone sent Poseidon's blood running cold.
Because deep within Tartaros, beneath the watchful gaze of Hades himself, there was another force at play.
A certain Thanatos awaited.
And Thanatos would ensure that Hades never even realized his brother had been trapped in the abyss below his feet.
Of course, he wasn't going to say anything.
Nathan simply stood there, watching as the last remnants of divine power flickered and faded from Poseidon's broken form. The once-mighty god, ruler of the seas, had been reduced to nothing but a withering corpse.
Nathan's golden eyes gleamed coldly.
"I hope you do come back one day," he murmured, his voice carrying a chilling edge. "By then, I'll be even stronger—strong enough to kill you with my own hands. So, I truly hope you return to fulfill this wish of mine."
Poseidon's hate-filled glare remained locked onto him, but there was nothing he could do.
Then, just like that—he was gone.
The god of the seas had perished.
Nathan didn't spare him another glance. Without hesitation, he turned away, his steps echoing in the silence.
The battlefield had quieted.
The sounds of clashing divine forces—the fierce battle between Amaterasu, Aphrodite, and Hera—had dulled to a near silence.
Nathan walked forward, and soon, his gaze fell upon the three goddesses.
All of them stood victorious—save for one.
Hera knelt on the ground, her breathing ragged, her once-imposing figure trembling with exhaustion and anger. Her golden hair, once pristine and regal, was disheveled, and her proud, haughty expression had been replaced with sheer rage.
"I… I will never forgive you for that…" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
Nathan tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"You're still speaking as if you have power, Hera," he said mockingly.
Hera's glare snapped toward him as he approached, and her fury only deepened.
"I… I am the QUEEN OF THE GODS!!" she shrieked, her voice echoing across the battlefield. "RELEASE ME!!"
Nathan let out a quiet chuckle.
"Queen of the Gods?" he mused, stepping even closer. "Well…not for long."
He raised his hand.
A divine white glow emanated from his palm, surrounding Hera's kneeling form. The air trembled as ancient power surged forth, wrapping around her body like chains forged from pure divinity.
Hera's breath hitched.
Something was wrong.
Her limbs wouldn't respond—her very essence was being locked away. Her body convulsed, and then, she froze in absolute horror.
A mark, intricate and pulsing with forbidden energy, began to etch itself onto her chest.
"N… NOOO…!!!" she screamed, her voice shaking with desperation and fear.
Nathan's golden eyes darkened as he gazed down at her, his expression utterly devoid of mercy.
"Forbidden Seal."
Hera trembled violently, the last vestiges of her divine authority slipping away.
She was no longer the Queen of the Gods.
She was nothing but a slave.
His slave.
THIS IS THE END OF THIS VOLUME FINALLY!!
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC325: The Wounded Heroes of the Light Empire (1)
Chapter 325: The Wounded Heroes of the Light Empire (1)
Before the Trojan War reached its inevitable conclusion, the Heroes of Light had already abandoned the blood-soaked battlefield, departing from Trojan soil and setting sail back to the Empire of Light. Their decision was not made lightly, but in the end, exhaustion, disillusionment, and the sheer brutality of the conflict left them with no reason to remain. What had once seemed like a righteous battle, a clash of legends, had devolved into something far more monstrous—something none of them had anticipated.
The war had escalated to levels of violence beyond their comprehension. Both the Greeks and Trojans had become unrecognizable, their forces swollen with beings that defied the natural order. Monstrous creatures stalked the battlefield, warriors fought like demons possessed, and the very air was thick with an aura of malevolence. It was no longer just a war between men; it was something darker, something wholly unnatural.
Sienna, the strongest among them, had suffered grievous wounds. The sight of her, usually so unshakable, so indomitable, brought low in battle had shaken them all to their core. She had been their role model, their pillar of strength—both back in high school and in this new, unforgiving world. If even she, the mightiest among them, could fall, then what hope did the rest have? Athena's swift intervention had saved her, but that moment had been the final straw. They could no longer ignore the truth. They were out of their depth.
To make matters worse, Liphiel, the Divine Knight who had been leading them since Radakel's death, had died as well. Her death had left them adrift, leaderless, and uncertain. She had been their guide, their authority in this foreign land, and with her gone, the fragile structure that had kept them moving forward collapsed entirely. Jason and Aidan, two of their most formidable warriors, had also sustained serious injuries. The weight of leadership, then, had fallen upon Siara. And she, understanding the growing despair in her comrades, had been the first to make the call—to leave.
It wasn't a decision made out of cowardice, but rather out of grim understanding. They were no longer fighting for anything. They had no stake in this war, and to remain was to throw their lives away for a cause that wasn't theirs. One by one, their classmates had agreed. Their pride was wounded, their spirits shaken, but in the end, survival took precedence.
With the surviving knights of the Light Empire, they boarded their ships and turned their backs on the Achaean continent. It was their first true war—and, without a doubt, the worst experience of their lives.
The bitter truth was that they had been woefully unprepared. A few months of fighting demons and beasts had not been enough to prepare them for the horrors of large-scale warfare. They had been naive, blinded by the intoxicating rush of their own strength. In Uteska, they had known defeat, but after that, they had grown—becoming stronger, more confident, even arrogant. They had convinced themselves that they could handle war.
Though their bodies had endured the trials of war—bolstered by the blessings of the gods and the formidable skills they had honed—there was an entirely different battle they had failed to prepare for. The war had not only tested their strength but had also ravaged their minds. The horrors they had witnessed, the blood they had shed, and the overwhelming reality of their mortality had left them shattered in ways they had never imagined.
Physically, they had survived. Mentally, they were crumbling.
More than anything, they just wanted to go home. Not to the Light Empire, which had claimed them as its champions, but home—back to Earth. Back to their families, their old lives, their simple worries and mundane struggles. At first, being transported to this world had been exhilarating. It had felt like an adventure, a dream come true. But that dream had twisted into a nightmare. This world was a place of constant danger, where death lurked behind every misstep, where war was not a game but a relentless, merciless force that swallowed the unprepared whole.
The strain was unbearable for some. The weaker ones had already retreated into themselves, desperately craving peace of mind. Others, however, burned with something else entirely—rage.
"SHIT! SHIT! SHITT!!!!!"
A furious roar tore through the air, echoing across the wooden deck of the ship as Aidan erupted. It had been a week since he regained consciousness, his body barely recovering from the grievous wounds he had sustained in the war. And now, as he stood there, his face twisted in fury, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, his classmates instinctively took a step back.
They had been walking on eggshells around him ever since he woke up. Aidan had always been hot-headed, but this was different. There was something unhinged about his rage now, something raw and dangerous. It unsettled them.
It wasn't just his injuries that fueled his outburst. It was humiliation. Pure, seething humiliation.
His last memory on Trojan soil was burned into his mind—Heiron's disdainful gaze, looking down at him as if he weren't even worth finishing off. That bastard hadn't even deemed him a threat. Aidan could still see it, the way Heiron had barely acknowledged him before walking away, his expression one of absolute indifference.
And that was the truth, wasn't it? Nathan didn't care about Aidan. Not anymore.
Perhaps there had been a time when Nathan sought revenge against him, a time when old grudges still mattered. But that was the Nathan of the past. That Nathan had long since faded, buried beneath everything he had endured and the power he had gained. Now, Aidan was nothing to him. Just another insignificant figure in a world where strength was everything.
"C-Calm down, man… Aidan…"
One of his friends hesitantly reached out, trying to soothe him, but Aidan wasn't having it.
"SHUT UP!!"
His voice cracked like a whip as he slapped the hand away violently, his eyes blazing with fury.
His friends recoiled, their fear evident. They had never seen him like this before.
And the worst part? Aidan knew exactly why he was so angry. It wasn't just about Heiron. It was about himself. His own weakness.
He had dreamt of it last night—a nightmare that played on repeat, Heiron's cold, dismissive gaze boring into his soul. It was torture, an agony that clawed at him from the inside. He wanted to rip Heiron apart, to crush him, to wipe that look off his face forever. But he wasn't stupid. He knew the truth, and that truth burned.
He was too weak.
And so, in his frustration, with no way to strike back at the one who had humiliated him, he lashed out at the only people around him—his own classmates.
None of his classmates dared to approach him.
They had seen Aidan angry before, but this… this was different. There was something feral about him now, something unhinged. Even the knights accompanying them remained silent, exchanging wary glances but making no move to intervene. The more time passed, the more volatile Aidan became, and none of them wanted to be caught in the explosion.
The tension in the air was suffocating—until an irritated voice broke through the silence.
"Can't you shut up, Aidan?"
It was sharp, cutting through the weight of the moment with absolute authority.
Aidan's head snapped toward the source, his fury flaring. Only one person on this ship would dare to speak to him like that.
"What?!" he snarled.
Jason Spencer stood there, his posture casual but his gaze unwavering. He wore a simple linen shirt, but the bandages wrapped tightly around his stomach were evidence of the wounds he had suffered during the war. Atalanta's arrows had struck deep, and even with divine healing, the recovery was slow.
Like Aidan, Jason was furious about their pathetic defeat, about the way they had fled from the battlefield like cowards. But unlike Aidan, he controlled his emotions. His anger wasn't a raging fire—it was cold, smoldering, calculated.
"I said calm down," Jason repeated, his tone laced with irritation. "You're being too damn noisy. If you want to kill Heiron so badly, we can turn the ship around and drop you off back there. Who knows? Maybe the war's still going on."
Aidan groaned, his entire body tensing with frustration. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
"FUCK IT!!"
BADAM!
With a roar of rage, he slammed his fist into the wooden guardrail of the ship, shattering it into splinters. The force of the blow sent cracks running through the wood, and a few startled knights stepped back, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons.
"Why the fuck are these skills so weak?!" Aidan growled, his breathing ragged.
They were supposed to be Heroes—chosen ones, summoned to this world to defeat the Demon King. Yet they had been humiliated, crushed, and forced to retreat. If they couldn't even defeat a single enemy commander, what hope did they have against the real threat? He had expected more. More power. More dominance. More everything.
"They aren't weak. We are weak," Jason said flatly.
Aidan's head snapped toward him, his glare filled with disbelief and fury.
"What did you just say?"
"I said we're weak. That's all." Jason met his gaze without flinching. "But we can get stronger."
Aidan scoffed. "How?"
Jason's smirk was slight, but it carried a dangerous edge. "Don't you remember what Liphiel offered us?"
Aidan stiffened.
A pact.
Back then, Liphiel had spoken to them about forming a pact with one of the Gods of Light—a contract that would grant them immense power in exchange for their servitude. Both he and Jason had rejected the offer.
Jason hadn't trusted them.
Aidan had been too arrogant to think he needed them.
But now? Now, the memory sent a shiver down his spine.
"That's not all," Jason continued, watching him closely. "If we accept, we don't just get stronger. We get new skills. More power. More control. She said so herself."
Aidan looked away, his jaw tightening.
He hated this. Hated that he was even considering it. Hated that he had been reduced to this—standing on a ship, licking his wounds, while Heiron and the others walked away unscathed.
But he hated his own weakness even more.
His decision was made.
He was going to do whatever it took to gain strength. He would crush Heiron. He would tear down the Kingdom of Tenebria. He would overpower the other summoned Heroes, prove he was above them all.
And if the gods stood in his way?
He would crush them too.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC326: The Wounded Heroes of the Light Empire (2)
The gentle lapping of waves against the boat's hull filled the air as it sailed through the vast, sunlit waters, carrying its passengers back toward the Empire of Light. The vessel, sturdy yet elegant, rocked slightly with each ripple of the sea, the rhythmic motion both soothing and monotonous. Above deck, Jason and Aidan were engaged in a tense conversation, the former having managed—through sheer patience and diplomacy—to ease some of Aidan's simmering frustration. Their classmates, though relieved at the temporary reprieve from Aidan's temper, had chosen to distance themselves, allowing the two to speak undisturbed. Meanwhile, below deck, in the quieter quarters of the ship, many of their companions were resting, oblivious to Aidan's lingering resentment.
In one of the private rooms, a young woman with cascading black locks sat gracefully on her bed, bathed in the soft golden glow of the afternoon sun filtering through a small, round window. Her beauty was undeniable—delicate yet striking, with an ethereal quality that made her seem almost otherworldly. But what stood out most was the serene expression she wore, her dark eyes brimming with warmth as she gazed down at her gently rounded belly. With each soft stroke of her hand across the fabric of her dress, she radiated quiet joy, an emotion so pure and deep it could be felt in the very air around her.
She was pregnant.
And the knowledge of that filled her with an indescribable happiness, one that she had never experienced in all her years on Earth. She had never imagined this moment would come, never thought she would carry a life within her, yet now she did, and the sensation was nothing short of miraculous.
A sudden knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and another strikingly beautiful woman stepped inside. Sienna. Like the seated woman, her long black hair framed her delicate yet determined features, her posture poised with quiet strength. The remnants of a battle once lost still lingered in her sharp gaze, a reminder of the grave injury she had suffered at Agamemnon's hands. She had come perilously close to death, saved only by Athena's divine intervention. Though it had taken her two long months to fully recover, she had finally regained her strength. And now, she stood before her friend, her expression unreadable as she took in the sight before her.
Sienna's gaze immediately fell upon Aisha's swollen belly. It was impossible to ignore. It had grown far too quickly—unnaturally so. A pregnancy like this… it did not follow the normal course of human gestation.
"It's this big already..." Sienna murmured, her voice laced with astonishment as she approached.
Aisha responded with a soft, knowing smile. "It is..."
For a long moment, silence settled between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Sienna's expression remained unreadable, but beneath her composed facade, a storm of emotions churned. Disbelief. Curiosity. Concern.
Of all the revelations she had encountered, learning of Aisha's pregnancy had been among the most shocking. Yet what unsettled her most wasn't just the fact that Aisha was expecting—it was the enigma surrounding it. How had this happened? Why was the pregnancy progressing at such an unnatural pace? And, most importantly—
"Are you going to tell me who the father is?" Sienna finally asked, her voice gentle yet firm as she stepped closer.
Aisha hesitated, her fingers instinctively caressing her belly in a protective manner. A solemn promise hung over her like an unbreakable chain, binding her to silence. She had sworn to Nathan that she would tell no one—not yet. For their safety. For his safety.
She knew Sienna too well. The moment she learned the truth, she would abandon everything, leave the Empire of Light, and head straight to Tenebria to find Nathan. That was how much she cared for her stepbrother. And that was something Aisha could not allow—not yet.
So instead, she met Sienna's gaze with quiet resolve and offered her only the truth she could afford to give.
"I will tell you. One day," she said softly. "I promise."
Sienna's lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp eyes searching Aisha's face for any sign of deception. But there was none. Only sincerity. Only an unspoken weight that Sienna could sense but not yet understand. And though frustration flickered in her eyes, she chose, for now, to let it rest.
"Alright," Sienna said at last, crossing her arms. "I'll hold you to that promise."
Aisha merely smiled in response, knowing that when the time came, the truth would shake Sienna's world in ways she could never imagine.
Sienna didn't seem upset, but a lingering concern flickered in her eyes. There was something she needed to confirm.
"This baby… You wanted it, right? You weren't forced?" Sienna asked seriously, her voice barely above a whisper.
The weight of the question settled heavily between them. Sienna could still remember the horror of what Ajax had nearly done to Aisha. The memory of that moment still haunted her, and she feared—deeply feared—that this child might have come from another act of violence.
Aisha's eyes widened for a brief second before softening. "No, don't worry. We were both consenting," she reassured quickly, her voice firm yet tender.
Sienna let out a small breath, a subtle smile playing at her lips. "I see… I just didn't think you would fall for another man besides my brother."
Aisha remained silent at that comment, her expression unreadable.
"But what surprises me most is your choice to keep the baby. I was already shocked when Professor Amelia decided to have a child, but you, Aisha? Would your parents even accept it?" she asked seriously.
Aisha's heart clenched slightly at the thought. She could already imagine their reaction, especially her father's. Her family was strict—unyielding in their expectations. If this had happened before, she might have been terrified just by the thought of it. But now… now, she had Nathan. She knew, no matter what happened, he would be there for her.
And one day, she was certain they would find a way back to Earth. When that day came, she would be ready.
"I'm an adult now. It's my decision," Aisha said firmly.
Sienna nodded before taking a seat beside Aisha. Her gaze once again drifted to Aisha's belly, curiosity evident in her eyes.
"Is this happening because of the blessing we received? Is that why the baby is growing so fast?" she wondered aloud.
"It could be," Aisha admitted, though she wasn't entirely sure.
But deep down, she suspected Nathan had something to do with it as well. He had changed—transformed. The last time she saw him, he had been evolving, edging closer to becoming a demigod. If that was the case, then her child… her child might be part goddess as well. Perhaps that explained everything.
A small smirk played at Aisha's lips. "Maybe we'll find out when you get pregnant too," she teased, watching Sienna's reaction closely.
Sienna shook her head instantly, her refusal unshaken.
A long silence stretched between them before Sienna finally spoke again.
"You see that man with the Trojans? Heiron," she said.
Aisha's heart skipped a beat at the name. She knew exactly who Sienna was referring to.
"What about him?" Aisha asked carefully, her voice carrying a note of caution.
Sienna hesitated, biting her lip as a whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged within her. "I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "He told me that Nathan was alive…"
Aisha's eyes widened.
She hadn't expected that. She was sure Nathan wouldn't have told Sienna even in extreme circumstances the truth yet to Sienna otherwise he would have revealed himself entirely which meant he was forced to say it.
Sienna exhaled a deep sigh, noticing Aisha's stunned silence.
"I know," she muttered, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't remember much after I lost consciousness, but before everything went dark… I don't know. It felt like…"
Her mind reeled, trying to grasp at fleeting fragments of memory. Images flashed before her eyes—the stranger, Heiron, holding her as she drifted in and out of awareness. There had been something about the way he looked at her, the way he carried her… something painfully familiar.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Nathan…
The resemblance wasn't in his face, nor his voice, nor even his mannerisms. But deep down, in the way he had held her—there had been something eerily reminiscent of her brother. A warmth she had long forgotten. A presence that made her feel, if only for a moment, safe.
But it was impossible.
Sienna shook her head firmly. It had to be a hallucination, the desperate wish of a grieving sister twisting her perception. Nothing more. And yet, there was one thing she couldn't dismiss—
"How did he know about Nathan and me?" she asked, frowning.
"Maybe he has a skill that lets him see it?" Aisha tried to find an excuse.
"Yes… that's what I think too," Sienna said bitterly, her voice laced with frustration.
It was the only logical explanation. They lived in a world of magic, where people possessed skills that defied reason. A skill capable of unearthing old wounds, of exposing her past pain—wasn't such a thing well within the realm of possibility?
And yet… a small, foolish part of her wished it wasn't just that. That he hadn't been toying with her suffering. That, somehow, someway, there had been truth in his words.
But that was nothing more than a cruel dream she thought.
Sienna clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The pain grounded her, forcing her to push away the aching hope that threatened to resurface.
"What am I even thinking?" she muttered, shaking her head. "If he was alive, he would have already come back to me…"
She rose from her seat, as if trying to physically shake off the lingering ghost of hope.
Aisha remained silent, watching her with conflicted eyes. She wanted to tell her the truth—to tell her why Nathan hadn't come back, why he remained in the shadows. But she couldn't.
It was better this way.
If Sienna knew—if she ever learned that the very people she fought for were the ones responsible for Nathan's 'death'—the consequences would be catastrophic. Not just for her, but for all of them, her classmates and the people both cared about.
Siara, Courtney, Gwen, Amelia… even Aisha herself.
Sienna would never forgive them.
And once that truth unraveled, there would be no going back.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC327 327: Siara's dream (1)
Siara was dreaming.
But this was no ordinary dream—no fleeting, nonsensical vision conjured by a restless mind. It was a memory, vivid and sharp, as if she had been transported back in time.
A little more than a year ago, a few months before they were transported to this world. A Saturday.
The week had been exhausting. Long hours at her prestigious private school had drained her, leaving her desperate for an escape. Shopping with her friends seemed like the perfect way to unwind, a much-needed reprieve from the suffocating expectations placed upon her.
Her mother, however, had other plans.
"No," Sarina said firmly.
The woman standing before Siara was none other than her mother, Sarina—Sienna's and her own guiding force, for better or worse.
Sarina had the same auburn hair as Siara, neatly tied into a bun, and striking blue eyes that shimmered with authority and concern. Despite being in her mid-thirties and the mother of two teenage girls, she carried herself with a grace that defied her age. Her figure was lean yet alluring, a combination of disciplined upkeep and natural beauty. Anyone who met her would have easily mistaken her for someone in her late twenties rather than a woman well into motherhood.
Siara crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a pout. "Why?" she asked, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.
Sarina let out a soft sigh, her expression unreadable. "I don't trust anyone out there."
Siara frowned. "But my friends are going with me. It's not like I'm alone."
"Yes, and they're all girls," Sarina countered, her tone unwavering. "What happens if a group of men approaches you?"
Siara rolled her eyes. "Mom, nothing is going to happen. You're overreacting."
But Sarina remained unmoved. She knew her daughter's beauty was striking—captivating, even. She wasn't naive enough to believe that ill-intentioned men wouldn't take notice. And knowing Siara's stubborn personality, she feared things wouldn't end well if she ever found herself in a dangerous situation.
"In two hours, the sun will set," Sarina reasoned. "If you really want to go, you can wait until tomorrow morning."
Siara groaned in exasperation. "Who goes shopping on a Sunday morning, Mom? That's ridiculous! Please, just this once?" She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture, hoping her mother would relent.
But Sarina's expression remained firm. She had no intention of letting her daughter go out unaccompanied.
Just then, the front door clicked open.
Siara turned toward the entrance, already dreading what was about to happen.
A young man stepped inside, carrying a bag of groceries in one hand. He was a few years older than Siara, his brown hair a striking contrast against his sharp yet indifferent features. Nathan.
Sarina's expression immediately brightened. "Oh, Nathan, you came at the perfect time!"
Siara's stomach sank. She could already see where this was going, and she didn't like it one bit.
"Mom!" she protested, but Sarina was already ignoring her.
Turning to Nathan, Sarina flashed him a warm smile. "Thank you for running that errand for me, dear," she said sweetly. "But before you put those away… I have a favor to ask of you."
Her voice was gentle, coaxing—almost too sweet.
Siara groaned. She knew exactly what her mother was about to say.
Nathan blinked in mild surprise at Sarina's sudden request, but his lips soon curled into a small smile.
As he stood there, his gaze wandered—almost unconsciously—toward Sarina's ample chest. It was difficult not to notice. The curve of her bountiful breasts pressed subtly against the fabric of her blouse, and the faintest glimpse of lace from her bra peeked through the slightly loosened top button. Given the warm temperature, she had likely unbuttoned it for comfort, but to Nathan, it was an unintentional yet undeniably captivating sight.
Siara noticed.
Her sharp eyes flickered to where Nathan was looking, her stomach twisting in irritation.
But what could she even say? He was a man, after all. And her mother—whether knowingly or unknowingly—was far too indulgent with Nathan.
In fact, sometimes, it felt like Sarina spoiled him even more than she did her own daughters.
Perhaps that was why Siara had never been on the best terms with Nathan. It wasn't outright hatred, nor was she overtly hostile, but she had made sure there was a clear boundary between them. She didn't treat him like family, nor did she give him the warmth that Sienna and her mother did.
Because Siara knew.
Nathan wasn't looking at her like a newfound little sister. His gaze toward her held something else—something less innocent. And it wasn't just her. She had seen the same look directed at Sienna and even their mother.
Unlike her sister and mother, who seemed completely oblivious, Siara was not so naive.
The mere thought of Nathan eyeing all three of them like that made her stomach churn with unease. It was almost disgusting—almost. And yet, she couldn't fully bring herself to despise him. Because despite whatever thoughts he harbored, Nathan had never crossed a line. He had never acted on it.
Still, it didn't change the fact that she wanted to keep her distance from him as much as possible.
Unfortunately, today, she wouldn't have a choice.
"Can you accompany Siara outside?" Sarina asked, her tone gentle but firm. "She's going shopping with her friends, but I don't want her going alone this late."
Siara groaned. "I won't be alone," she repeated, exasperation creeping into her voice.
Sarina ignored her.
Nathan's gaze flickered toward Siara, as if sizing up the situation. Then, with a small shrug, he nodded. "Gladly."
A bright smile spread across Sarina's face. "Thank you!" she said cheerfully, stepping closer and pressing a quick kiss to Nathan's forehead. "I'll have dinner ready when you get back. Don't stay out too late."
Siara grumbled under her breath, barely concealing her irritation. But without another word, she turned sharply on her heel and headed toward the door. She was already dressed and ready to leave—no point in wasting any more time.
Nathan handed the grocery bag to Sarina before casually following after her, his footsteps light and unhurried.
Siara didn't bother waiting for Nathan as she stepped outside. She moved with purpose, her pace brisk as if putting more distance between them would somehow make his presence less annoying.
Behind her, Nathan closed the door with a quiet click, taking a moment to pocket the keys before following after her.
"Do you want to rent a car?" he asked casually, easily matching her stride despite her clear attempt to walk ahead of him.
"A car? For what?" Siara scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. "It's just one stop away by bus."
Nathan chuckled softly, as if amused by her sharp tone. "Right."
Siara sighed. She hated how unbothered he always seemed. She had expected some kind of argument, or at the very least, a comment about her attitude—but he just accepted it with that same infuriating smile.
"I'll be with my friends, and I don't want them knowing about you," she stated bluntly, stopping in her tracks to turn toward him. "So stay behind me. Keep your distance. Can you do that?"
To her surprise, Nathan merely nodded, his expression calm and unreadable.
"Okay."
No protest. No sarcasm. Just simple agreement.
For some reason, that unsettled her more than if he had argued.
They soon arrived at the bus stop, where a small crowd had already gathered. As expected, the Saturday evening rush had begun—groups of friends, couples, and workers filled the area, all waiting for their ride.
When the bus finally pulled up, it was nearly full, and the moment the doors swung open, a flood of people surged forward. Siara wasted no time slipping inside, skillfully weaving through the bodies to secure a spot near the back. She leaned against the window, gripping the metal bar beside her for support.
Nathan, however, wasn't as quick.
He was cut off by a wave of passengers pushing their way in, and Siara couldn't help but smirk at the sight. At least now he wouldn't be standing anywhere near her.
By the time the bus doors closed and the vehicle jerked forward, Nathan was positioned several feet away, lost in the sea of bodies.
Good.
But as the bus rumbled down the uneven road, Siara started to feel uneasy.
It was crowded—uncomfortably so. She hugged her bag tightly against her chest, her fingers gripping the straps like a lifeline.
She was surrounded.
Tall, middle-aged men occupied the space around her, their broad shoulders pressing in from all sides. The bus's constant movement made them sway, their bodies bumping against hers again and again. At first, she dismissed it as accidental—just the unavoidable consequence of being packed into such a tight space.
But then it started happening too often.
Too deliberately.
Hands brushed against her in ways that didn't feel incidental.
A nudge against her hip. A lingering touch against her arm. And then—
Siara froze.
A hand. On her thigh.
Her breath hitched as icy dread clawed up her spine.
She was wearing a high skirt. There was nothing shielding her bare skin from the intrusive touch. And worse—
The hand didn't move away.
It stayed.
Pressing. Gripping ever so slightly.
Siara's mind blanked.
Is this really happening?
Panic paralyzed her tongue. She wanted to yell, to push him away, to do something—but she felt trapped, suffocated by the overwhelming weight of fear pressing against her chest.
Her fingers trembled around the strap of her bag.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Please let this stop. Please—
"GRAHH!!"
A sudden groan shattered the tense atmosphere.
Siara's eyes snapped open just in time to see the man who had touched her jerk forward—his body slamming against the metal bar in front of him. His head collided with a dull thunk, a pained grimace twisting his features as he staggered backward.
The bus jolted again, but this time, it wasn't the road's doing.
Someone had shoved him.
The man whipped around, his face contorted in fury. "Y...;You!!"
"Sorry," a familiar voice drawled smoothly. "I tripped."
Siara's breath caught in her throat.
Nathan.
He was standing there now, positioned directly in front of her, his posture relaxed yet firm. His lips curled into a smile—a deceptively light expression that masked something deeper, something unreadable.
There was no anger in his face. No open hostility.
And yet, his presence alone sent a chill through the air.
Siara had never seen that kind of smile before.
Or rather—she had.
And she hated it.
It was the same smile he wore when he looked at them—not as family, not as siblings, but as women. That slow, knowing curve of his lips, the glint in his eyes that always unsettled her.
It disgusted her.
Yet, as much as she wanted to ignore it, there was something different this time. Something darker.
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC328 328: Siara's dream (2)
Yet, as much as she wanted to ignore it, there was something different this time. Something darker.
Nathan hadn't just tripped—that much was obvious.
The man who had touched her was still glaring, rubbing his head in frustration, but he didn't lash out. Maybe it was the way Nathan stood—calm, unbothered, yet strangely imposing. Maybe it was the way he smiled—like someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
Or maybe it was the cold amusement in his eyes, as if he found the entire situation mildly entertaining.
Siara hated that too.
She gritted her teeth and looked away. I don't need his help.
The rest of the bus ride was suffocating.
Siara kept her gaze fixed on the window, her grip on her bag tightening. The unwanted touches had stopped, but the discomfort in her chest only grew.
She felt… tainted.
Siara's heart slowly settled, and with it, a shocking realization washed over her—she was, at least for the moment, safe. The words almost felt foreign as they danced through her mind, but they were undeniably true. She wasn't entirely certain why she had this feeling, but there it was, like a protective shield wrapping around her, faint yet reassuring.
She glanced up, her gaze naturally landing on Nathan, who stood before her. He wasn't particularly imposing in stature—just a little taller than her, but that was all. Yet, for the first time, she felt an unmistakable force radiating from him, an aura so powerful and undeniable it seemed to fill the space around them. His presence was like an invisible storm, and it both comforted and unsettled her in a way she couldn't quite explain. The air around him felt charged, as if something untold was simmering beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
What unsettled her more, however, was the fact that Nathan wasn't even looking at her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the man who had dared to touch her—his smile stretched across his lips, but it was a hollow, empty thing. His eyes, cold and distant, gave no hint of the expression his mouth wore, creating a sharp contrast. The man who had once glared at her with such malice was now the one avoiding Nathan's gaze, his body stiffening as if he'd been struck by a cold wave. His breath hitched, and his hands trembled slightly, a sheen of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as if he were suddenly caught in a freezing wind. The intensity of Nathan's unspoken menace was palpable, and for reasons he couldn't comprehend, the man felt an overwhelming sense of fear just by witnessing that smile.
As the bus lurched to a stop at the bustling shopping street, the crowd began to shuffle off, eager to begin their day. Siara, though, remained close behind Nathan, not wanting to be far from the one who had made her feel safe again—almost protective, as though the world outside no longer mattered while he was near.
"Thanks," she muttered, her voice small but genuine. She couldn't quite find the right words to express the gratitude she felt. Words felt inadequate in comparison to what Nathan had done for her, yet they were all she had.
Nathan, without turning back to face her, simply nodded. "You should hurry up and call them. I'll stay over here." He took a few deliberate steps away, moving toward a nearby bench and sitting down, as though his presence there was nothing more than an afterthought, as if he were merely an observer of the world around him rather than a participant.
Siara stood still for a moment, her eyes lingering on him, trying to make sense of the situation, of everything that had happened. After a beat, she pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed the number of her old friends. They weren't the classmates she had now, the ones at her private school; these friends were from her past, from a time before everything had changed. It had been ages since they'd last been together, and it was rare that they could see each other anymore. But today, it seemed, was one of those rare occasions.
"Siara!"
A lively voice called out, drawing the attention of a girl with striking hazel eyes and long, wavy brown hair. Siara turned just in time to see two familiar figures approaching. The first was a girl with bouncy, chestnut-colored curls that framed her heart-shaped face, her brown eyes gleaming with excitement. Skyler. Right beside her, another girl walked with effortless grace—Page, her sleek, shoulder-length black hair shifting slightly with each step.
"It's been too long!" Skyler added, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.
Siara felt warmth spread through her chest. The sight of them filled her with a sense of familiarity and belonging she hadn't felt in months. The three of them, all sixteen, had always been an inseparable trio—known for their charm and beauty, drawing attention even when they didn't seek it.
"Skyler, Page," Siara greeted them with a wide, genuine smile, quickly closing the distance between them.
It had been two long months since she had last seen them—two months since she had moved away after her mother remarried Nathan's father. Adjusting to a new school had been anything but easy. Sure, she had met people, but none she could call real friends. No one could replace these two.
"Oh god, you are just too blessed with beauty, Siara!" Page teased, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief.
Siara rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small laugh. "Stop it already. We don't have much time—my mom doesn't want me out too late." She ushered them forward, eager to make the most of their reunion.
Unbeknownst to her friends, Nathan had silently risen from his seat the moment they started walking. Though he maintained a respectable distance as she had insisted, Siara still felt his presence lurking nearby.
But for now, she shoved the thought aside. With her best friends by her side, she could finally let loose, finally be herself. They wandered through the shopping district, admiring storefront displays and stepping into boutiques filled with stylish outfits. Siara was in her element—flipping through racks of clothing, holding up dresses against herself, and laughing as Skyler and Page debated what suited her best.
She even made a point of trying on more outfits than necessary, spinning in front of the mirror with exaggerated poses. Anything to draw out time. Anything to make Nathan give up and leave. But he didn't.
Instead, he followed them. Into every store.
Siara caught glimpses of him lingering near the entrance or leaning against the walls. He was the only guy in a sea of girls rummaging through outfits, and it was impossible for Skyler and Page not to notice.
By the time Siara was trying on clothes in the fifth store, her patience was wearing dangerously thin. Embarrassment prickled at the back of her neck, mixing with growing frustration. She had been ignoring it as best as she could, but the sheer absurdity of the situation was getting to her.
Nathan was still there.
She knew he wasn't doing this out of his own volition—he was simply carrying out the job his mother had entrusted to him with unwavering diligence. But this? This was ridiculous. Even for him.
Every time she moved, she found herself unconsciously glancing around, checking the mirrors, ensuring he wasn't too close. Even when she was just sifting through racks of clothes, her gaze would flicker toward the reflections surrounding her, catching glimpses of his unmistakable figure lingering at a distance.
It was suffocating.
With arms now burdened by shopping bags, she and her friends finally exited the store, the cool evening air greeting them. Siara was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when Page suddenly spoke up.
"Girls… I think there's a guy following us."
Siara's breath caught in her throat.
"Yeah, I wasn't sure at first, but now I'm certain," Skyler added, though her tone carried more amusement than concern.
Siara froze mid-step.
They noticed him.
She swallowed, forcing herself to turn slightly, pretending to glance over her shoulder nonchalantly. And there he was—Nathan, still trailing them. Except now, he was even closer than before, only about two meters away.
Her frustration surged.
He was supposed to keep his distance!
What she failed to notice, however, was the direction of Nathan's gaze. His eyes weren't on them at all. Instead, his attention was locked on a group of four men walking a short distance away—men who were openly ogling the three of them, their stares dripping with crude intent.
Had Siara realized that Nathan's presence was not to annoy her but to keep a watchful eye on those men, she might have calmed down.
But she didn't.
All she saw was her overbearing stepbrother ignoring boundaries and making her feel suffocated.
"Let's rush," she muttered, picking up her pace.
"You sure?" Page asked, glancing back at Nathan. "He's kinda hot."
Siara nearly tripped.
"Him? Hot?" she repeated, incredulous. A laugh bubbled up in her throat.
Sure, she could admit Nathan was above average in looks, but calling him hot was pushing it.
"I agree with Page on this one," Skyler giggled, also sneaking a glance in his direction.
Fortunately, Nathan's attention remained elsewhere, allowing them to stare without being caught.
Siara rolled her eyes, but Page and Skyler were evaluating him from a neutral standpoint. He didn't have the kind of flashy, movie-star good looks that turned heads instantly. However, there was something else—an aura of quiet confidence, a presence that made it seem like nothing could shake him.
And at that moment, with his sharp gaze fixed on the group of men, his usual indifference was replaced by something colder.
Nathan wasn't smiling anymore.
His expression had hardened into something unreadable—his jaw tense, his dark brown eyes gleaming with quiet intensity. It was an expression he only ever wore in front of his father.
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