I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Morning had gently unfurled over the grand castle of Breistan, casting golden hues upon its towering spires and pristine white stone. The city below was slowly stirring to life, merchants setting up their stalls, knights beginning their morning drills, and nobles preparing for another day of politics and pleasantries. It was a peaceful dawn, much like any other.

But peace is fragile.

Within the castle walls, a sense of routine dictated the lives of those who served. Among them was Auria’s personal maid, a woman who had long since learned her lady’s habits. Auria was the very embodiment of discipline—always the first to rise, the first to prepare, never needing a reminder or a wake-up call. With the esteemed Princess Ameriah staying under their roof, Auria had been even more diligent in her responsibilities. That was why, when the maid found no sign of her mistress stirring past her usual hour, an unsettling feeling coiled within her chest.

At first, she reasoned that perhaps the young ladies had simply stayed awake far too long, immersed in their studies or quiet conversation. But as time dragged on, and the sun climbed higher in the sky, concern turned to unease.

Knocking gently on the grand wooden doors of Auria’s chamber, the maid called out in a soft yet firm voice.

“My lady? Lady Auria, it is time to rise.”

Silence.

The maid’s fingers tightened around the tray she carried. That was unusual. Auria was always prompt in responding.

She knocked again, harder this time.

“Lady Auria? Princess Ameriah?”

Still, no response.

An invisible weight settled upon her shoulders, pressing her pulse into a quickened rhythm. Deciding against further hesitation, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Her breath caught.

The room was empty.

The grand bed, with its silk sheets, was untouched—no signs of struggle, no haphazardly tossed blankets, no discarded slippers nearby. The air was still, undisturbed, as if no one had slept there at all.

Dread slithered up her spine.

Forcing herself to remain composed, she hurriedly exited the room and sought out the nearest castle staff, questioning them one by one. Had anyone seen Lady Auria or Princess Ameriah leaving their chambers? Had they perhaps gone for an early stroll, escorted by the knights? Were they in the gardens, the library, anywhere?

But the answers were all the same.

No one had seen them.

Not a single guard had reported them leaving. No maid had assisted them in dressing for the day. No stable hand had prepared horses for an early departure.

It was as if they had vanished into thin air.

A cold, sharp panic clawed at her chest.

Wasting no more time, she rushed to the Duke’s chambers and delivered the dreadful news.

Nakon, Duke of Breistan, listened in silence.

For a long moment, he did not speak, did not move. The room seemed to darken around him, though the morning sun still shone outside.

His daughter… was missing?

And not just his daughter, but Princess Ameriah—the younger sister of the Queen, a royal guest entrusted to his care?

No. It couldn’t be.

Refusing to believe the worst, he commanded his knights to scour the entire castle and the surrounding lands. Every hall, every corridor, every secret passage was searched. Every stable, every garden, every chamber that could be hiding the two young women. Riders were sent to comb the city streets, questioning merchants, commoners, and travelers.

Hours passed.

Nothing.

There was only one answer.

Kidnapped.

The realization was like ice flooding his veins.

Auria was responsible, intelligent—she would never disappear without a word. She would never act recklessly, nor would the Princess. They had not left willingly.

Someone had taken them.

And the worst part? There had been no signs. No struggle. No alarms raised. Whoever had done this had done so with such precision and stealth that no one in the castle had noticed until it was too late.

Nakon clenched his fists.

His daughter. The Queen’s sister.

Gone.

And Breistan, for all its strength, had failed to protect them.

The weight of failure pressed heavily upon Duke Nakon’s shoulders, suffocating and relentless. The moment he realized that not a single soul in the castle had seen or heard anything of his daughter or Princess Ameriah, it felt as though his very essence had been drained from him. His worst fears had materialized into reality, and he had no answers, no solutions—only a sickening, hollow despair.

But now, there was something even more terrifying than his own helplessness.

He had to tell him.

Nathan.

Lord Commander of Tenebria.

Nakon’s breath was unsteady as he delivered the grave news. His voice trembled despite his efforts to remain composed. As he spoke, fear clawed at his throat, tightening with every word. He could only imagine the fury, the devastation, the retribution that would follow.

It was still morning when Nathan was informed of the catastrophe.

The Lord Commander stood in the grand hall, his presence an overwhelming force. The towering pillars and regal banners did little to soften the sheer intensity that radiated from him.

Nakon was there as well, though the Duke did not even bother to take his seat upon his throne. He could not bring himself to sit in the face of such an unforgivable disaster. His complexion was deathly pale, his expression twisted in silent horror. There was no justification, no excuse—he had failed.

And now, he awaited judgment.

Nathan stood motionless, listening in chilling silence as Nakon recounted every agonizing detail.

When the words Ameriah is gone left the Duke’s lips, the atmosphere in the hall shifted into something unbearable.

A suffocating, unnatural cold spread through the room.

Nathan’s golden, demonic eyes darkened with something inhuman, their glow intensifying as they fixed upon the Duke. It felt as though those eyes alone could consume him, devour him whole in a storm of unseen wrath.

Nakon shuddered.

The nobles standing behind him, observing the exchange, did the same. They felt it, too—that crushing, predatory pressure exuding from the Lord Commander.

Nathan was angry.

No, furious.

Yet, his fury was not entirely directed at Nakon. The Duke was powerless in this—the entire castle had been blind to the disappearance. He could not blame him for something that no one, not even he himself, had detected.

That was what truly enraged him.

How had this happened without him noticing?

Nathan had spent the night with Scylla, but that should not have mattered. His awareness should have caught something, some trace of disturbance, some shift in the air. Scylla should have sensed it, too.

And yet—nothing.

No warnings. No signs. No lingering aura.

Someone had stolen Ameriah away from under his nose with absolute, terrifying precision.

Before him, Nakon trembled. His voice broke as he lowered his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I… I deeply apologize, Lord Commander,” the Duke choked out, his words barely above a whisper. “I will accept any punishment you see fit.”

But even as he spoke, his thoughts were drowning in panic.

His daughter.

His only daughter.

Where was she? Was she safe? Was she terrified? Was she—

No. He refused to think beyond that.

The nobles behind him barely dared to breathe. Their expressions ranged from fear to sheer anxiety as they waited for Nathan’s reaction, for his verdict. The tension in the room was suffocating, unbearable.

Yet, Nathan said nothing.

The silence stretched, heavy and unrelenting, pressing down upon everyone present like an unspoken sentence of doom.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Do not let the information leave the city.”

His voice was sharp, absolute.

The nobles blinked, exchanging confused glances, but none dared to question him.

Nathan turned slightly, his gaze cold and calculating.

“Do not inform Azariah either. Keep this secret for as long as you possibly can.”

He offered no further explanation.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of an approaching storm.

Nakon stood frozen, his mind reeling.

He didn’t fully understand why Nathan had ordered secrecy, but relief—small, fleeting relief—washed over him. At least for now, he did not have to face the weight of the world knowing they had failed to protect a Princess of the realm.

Nathan stepped out of the grand hall, his expression carved from ice. His footsteps echoed through the stone corridors, each one measured and deliberate. A storm brewed within his mind.

How had it happened without him noticing?

For someone like him, who was always vigilant, always prepared, this was unacceptable. But as the pieces fell into place, he understood.

“A Hero Skill,” Nathan muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes narrowing. “He must have used his Main Skill—or at the very least, a high-ranking one—to bypass the castle’s defenses without a single soul sensing his presence. No doubt, he also used it to leave just as silently. And before vanishing, he forced them to follow him.” His voice carried a deadly calm, laced with certainty.

A soft gust of wind swirled beside him, and in the next moment, a figure materialized from the shadows. It was Scylla.

“Sorry, Nate.” Her voice was tinged with frustration, her red eyes dark with disappointment. “I searched everywhere, but there’s no sign of them. No traces left behind.” She crossed her arms, her brows knitting together.

Nathan cast her a sidelong glance. Of course, she wouldn’t find anything.

Hero Skills weren’t something an ordinary tracker could perceive. Unlike normal abilities, they defied logic, bending the very fabric of reality itself. Scylla, despite her talents, was unaware of the extent of their power.

“Don’t worry,” Nathan said, his lips curling into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained unreadable. “I have better ways.”

Because unlike others, he wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t blind.

He possessed the Eye of Odin—an ability that allowed him to perceive truths hidden from the ordinary eye. And paired with the Vision of Artemis.

Nathan could definitely find them.

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