I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan approached the imperial carriage, flanked by Praetorians who immediately stepped aside to allow him entry. He climbed the short steps and ducked through the velvet curtain, entering the lion’s den.

Once inside the grand, gold-trimmed carriage drawn by four immaculate white horses, Nathan settled into the plush velvet seat across from the two most powerful men in the Roman Empire—Julius Caesar and Octavius. The carriage creaked softly as it moved, the wheels humming along the cobblestone streets of Rome beneath a pale morning sun.

Nathan’s sharp red eyes locked with Caesar’s. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“What did you wish to talk about?” he asked, his voice calm and even, but with a cool undertone that made Octavius flinch.

Octavius scowled, leaning forward with indignation. “Show some respect to your Emperor,” he snapped, his fingers curling into a fist on his knee.

But Nathan didn’t so much as glance in his direction. He simply blinked once, then turned his full attention back to Caesar, ignoring the outburst as though Octavius were no more than a barking dog.

Caesar let out a quiet, amused chuckle. “It’s quite alright, Octavius,” he said, raising a hand to calm him. “Septimius has earned a measure of freedom with his words. What he did in Alexandria—few men could have managed it.”

The Emperor’s tone was light, but his eyes held a glint of admiration, even curiosity. “Destroying the Lighthouse of Pharos… They say you brought the great tower to its knees in a single night, and—more incredibly—that you drove back a goddess.”

A soft scoff escaped Octavius’s lips, barely concealed. He turned his gaze to the carriage window, clearly unimpressed.

Destroying the Pharos? That much he was willing to concede—there had been evidence, after all, ruins and smoke. But a goddess? He didn’t believe it. In truth, he wasn’t even convinced that the being who appeared during that night of blood and flame had truly been divine.

Nathan remained expressionless. “I did my job,” he said coldly. “And I intend to be paid for it.”

Caesar leaned back, folding his arms with a grin tugging at his lips. “Mercenary one day, always a mercenary, is that it?” He paused, then nodded thoughtfully. “But I’ve always trusted those driven by gold. At least you know where their loyalties lie. They don’t backstab you—so long as the coin keeps flowing.”

Octavius bristled at that, interjecting with a hard edge. “He did betray Ptolemy, Caesar. Let’s not forget that.”

Caesar shrugged. “Ptolemy was a fool—a child king who didn’t understand the worth of the weapon he held. He paid the price for his ignorance.” He turned back to Nathan, the amusement fading into something more serious. “But you… You knew your value. So tell me, Septimius, what is it you desire?”

At last.

Nathan leaned forward, resting his gloved hands on his lap, his voice low but steady. “I want a position in Rome that reflects my strength—my capabilities. I’m stronger than Marcus Antonius.”

Octavius blinked, stunned by the audacity of the claim, but Caesar only laughed—a loud, echoing sound that filled the carriage.

“Such arrogance!” Caesar said between bursts of mirth. “Marcus Antonius is one of my most trusted generals. He is Rome’s warhorse, a symbol of its might. I can’t simply hand you what I’ve given to him.”

“I’m not asking for his seat,” Nathan said firmly, unwavering. “I want a place within the heart of Rome. Not as some foreign commander to be kept on the outskirts. I want a room within the Great Senate Castle.”

Octavius’s eyes widened in pure disbelief. His mouth opened slightly before he burst forward, fury flashing across his face.

“The Great Senate Castle?!” he spat. “That’s outrageous!”

The Senate Castle wasn’t just a building—it was the throbbing heart of Roman power, a colossal structure of domed marble towers and golden arches shaped in a perfect circle. It loomed like a monument to the gods themselves, housing hundreds of rooms, magnificent halls, private spas, political forums, and indulgent pleasure chambers—baths, banquet halls, even secret orgy rooms. It was the sanctuary of senators, aristocrats, and emperors alike. Only the most elite, the true pillars of Roman dominance, had residence within its sacred walls.

Even Caesar, the living god of Rome, spent most of his time there.

“To even suggest—how dare you!” Octavius shouted, nearly rising from his seat.

Nathan didn’t bother acknowledging Octavius’s continued outburst. His eyes remained fixed on Caesar—cold, calculating, unwavering. He had expected this request to sound outrageous. After all, what mercenary had ever been granted a place within the most sacred seat of Roman power? But this wasn’t born of arrogance—it was strategy.

He needed to be at the very heart of Roman politics, where senators whispered behind closed doors and daggers glinted in the dark. If he wanted to learn Rome’s secrets, make powerful allies—or eventually destroy Caesar himself—he had to be where the strings of power were pulled. There was no better place than the Great Senate Castle. And Caesar, for all his ironclad rule, had enemies. That much Nathan was certain of. Rome, despite its grandeur, was a serpent pit. For every citizen who adored Caesar, there were politicians who smiled to his face and sharpened blades behind his back. Take Pompey, for example. Once Caesar’s ally, now long dead. Betrayal was a Roman tradition.

Caesar studied him in silence, then chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a knowing smile.

“You’re quite greedy,” he said.

Nathan tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Am I? Roman soldiers march freely through the Senate Castle every day. They act as guards, live in the barracks, eat from the Emperor’s kitchens. I’m simply asking for a single room. A place to rest. A modest privilege in exchange for risking my life for Rome.”

His voice was calm, his words crafted carefully. He made the request sound trivial, even reasonable. And somehow, it worked.

Caesar stared at him for a long, quiet moment before his smile widened.

“Very well. I accept.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Octavius jolted forward, eyes wide, his face turning red with disbelief. “Emperor?!”

Caesar raised a hand, placating. “Calm yourself, Octavius. Look at him. He only wishes to enjoy his time in Rome, nothing more.” Then, with a glint in his eye, he added, “If we force him to live on the outskirts like a foreign officer, he may choose to leave altogether. Would you really see us lose a soldier who—by your own admission—is stronger than Marcus Antonius?”

Octavius bit his tongue. His fists tightened in his lap, his jaw locked in frustration, but he said nothing. There was no argument to make—not here, not now.

Caesar turned back to Nathan, his tone now cooler, more businesslike.

“I’ll grant you access, Septimius,” he said. “Not as a permanent resident, but as my personal guest. You’ll have a suite in the Senate Castle, full access to its halls and privileges. But…” he leaned in, voice lowering into something darker, “…you understand I don’t offer something like this for free.”

Nathan didn’t flinch. “What do you want me to do?”

Caesar’s smirk returned, but this time it held no warmth. “Simple. As powerful as I may seem, Rome still festers with enemies. Politicians who would rather see me fall than rise further. They cloak themselves in loyalty, but they scheme in secret. I want them gone—but not by the sword of Rome. I want them dead in a way that cannot be traced back to me.”

Nathan’s expression didn’t change, but his silence said everything. This was it—the real price.

Caesar’s voice dropped to a whisper, and yet his next words struck Nathan like a blade of ice. “One of them is Crassus. The last Emperor of Rome.”

Even Nathan couldn’t conceal the surprise in his eyes. Brutus? The famed noble, respected by many, once hailed as Caesar’s closest companion and political equal? That man had stepped aside when Caesar claimed the throne, seemingly in peace. But now Caesar wanted him dead.

So that was the game.

First Pompey. Now Brutus.

Caesar was eliminating anyone who could pose a threat to his throne—cutting down friends and rivals alike to become Rome’s undisputed ruler. No senate. No balance. Only one emperor.

Nathan exhaled slowly, allowing a small, wry smile to creep onto his lips. The more he listened, the more he understood just how dangerous Caesar was. Ruthless, ambitious, brilliant.

And yet…

Nathan returned Caesar’s smile with one of his own.

“I will do it,” he said.

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