I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me Chapter 553: The Final talk before the last Day!

Chapter 553: The Final talk before the last Day!

“Brutus?” Freja repeated, her voice uncertain, almost hesitant.

The dimly lit room was heavy with tension. Shadows flickered across the cracked stone walls, cast by the lone oil lamp that hung from a crooked beam. The hidden house, buried beneath the outskirts of the city, had beco their last refuge.

Once, it had only sheltered Crassus, his wife Tertulla, and their children—along with Pompey, whose presence was already risky enough. But after Johanna’s discovery of the previous hideout, Freja, Elin, Servilia, Ariah, and Auria had been brought here under the cover of night.

The place was large enough to hold them all for a few days—spacious by common standards, but suffocating with over ten souls cramd inside. Ten strangers bound by circumstance, their alliances uncertain, their silences full of unspoken distrust. Still, it was the only place Caesar’s reach couldn’t yet touch.

That night, Nathan had co.

He stood near the window, where the faintest silver light of the moon brushed his white hair. His expression was unreadable—steady, calm, the way it always was before he set things in motion. He had co not for comfort, but to deliver news.

When he ntioned Brutus, Freja frowned slightly, trying to recall the na. But Servilia, sitting on a worn chair nearby, went pale. Her eyes widened, filling with both hope and dread.

“Yeah,” Nathan said, his tone low but decisive. “Tomorrow I’ll be fighting in the arena—the Colosseum. Caesar will be there. That will be your perfect opportunity to strike. While he’s distracted, you’ll enter the Senate castle and free your classmates.”

He paused, letting his gaze fall on Freja. “But there’s more. Brutus is being held prisoner there. I want you to bring him out.”

Servilia straightened suddenly, the tremor in her hands betraying her calm facade. “He’s my son,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “Please… bring him back.”

Freja’s stern expression softened. She rembered the stories Servilia had shared about him—her quiet pride, her guilt. Freja offered a faint smile. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “I’ll bring your son ho. I promise.”

“I… I’ll go with her!” Elin’s voice cut through the thick air, firm and resolute. She t Nathan’s eyes without wavering.

Nathan studied her for a mont before nodding. “If either of you hesitate, you’ll die,” he said plainly. “Don’t forget that.”

Both won nodded in unison, their determination visible in their eyes.

Crassus, who had been silent until now, crossed his arms. “If you’re asking them to attack the Senate castle,” he said slowly, “then… everything ends tomorrow?”

Nathan turned his gaze toward him. “Yes. Caesar plans to use the Keys of Ro tomorrow,” he said.

Pompey, standing near the far wall, clenched his jaw. “He’s completely lost his reason,” he muttered.

“Power’s gone to his head,” Nathan replied coolly. “Greed blinded him, and now he’s trying to climb too high, too fast. That’s not ambition—it’s stupid arrogance.”

For a mont, silence hung between them, filled only by the faint crackle of the oil lamp. Everyone could sense it—Nathan’s quiet resolve. He wasn’t rushing toward victory; he was calculating it. Every step, every move had been deliberate.

Failure wasn’t an option for him.

Tertulla, Crassus’s wife, spoke up softly from beside her husband. “Then… you’re really certain you can take Caesar down?”

Crassus’s brows furrowed. “That’s my concern as well,” he added. “You’re underestimating the Beasts of Ro. Even you can’t defeat them easily. They were created to protect Ro—even from gods themselves.”

Nathan chuckled faintly, the corner of his lips curving in a subtle, confident smile. “Who said anything about killing them?”

He looked up, and for a mont his crimson eyes caught the lamplight—cold and glinting with sothing dangerous.

“It would be a waste,” he said simply. “A waste of ti, of energy… and of potential.”

It would have been a far more difficult ordeal—an almost impossible one—if Athena had not been on his side.

Had she turned her back on him, had she allowed old grudges to outweigh reason, Nathan would have been forced to act long before Caesar could ever touch the Keys of Ro. He would have destroyed them, hidden them, sothing. Anything to avoid the confrontation that was now inevitable.

But Caesar had crossed a line from which there was no return. The tide of events had already surged beyond control. Words, reason, even politics had no aning now. Only action remained.

There would be sacrifices. There always were.

And Nathan—though he once might have cared—no longer did.

Ro had worshipped Caesar, fed his pride, and drunk his lies until they themselves beca blind to the monster they had built. They deserved to taste the consequences of their adoration, to feel the ruin that inevitably followed blind devotion. Only through suffering would they understand the folly of their own choices.

Nathan’s voice was calm, almost disturbingly so, as he addressed those gathered in the dim refuge. “I already know how to handle this. Stay here. Don’t move until I return. Once I’m finished with Caesar, you’ll know.”

There was not a single note of doubt in his tone.

Crassus, Tertulla, Licinia, even Pompey—each of them looked at him with a strange mix of disbelief and awe. They had seen n claim certainty before, but never with that kind of quiet, unshakable conviction.

Nathan’s gaze fell last on Freja and Elin. “Be ready,” he said simply. “When the ti cos, intervene without hesitation.”

And with that, he turned and left, his figure swallowed by the night.

Monts later, the cold Roman wind whipped around him as he soared into the sky, his cloak fluttering like a shadow across the moon. “dea,” he called softly.

The air shimred beside him, and she appeared—her eyes gleaming beneath the hood of her cloak. “As you thought, Nate,” she said, her tone both sharp and reluctant. “Sothing happened. Octavius beat that slave girl Spartacus liked. He told him that if he doesn’t kill you in tomorrow’s final… she dies.”

Nathan’s lips curved into a small, humorless smile. “Of course he did.”

He had sent dea to watch over Spartacus, not out of rcy but strategy—to gauge the man’s will, to see how he’d behave before their inevitable clash in the arena. And it seed Caesar’s n had wasted no ti exploiting the one weakness that could drive Spartacus into madness.

Still… it confird sothing Nathan already knew.

Octavius was filth.

Beating an innocent woman just to control another man—there was no nobility left in Ro’s leaders, only cowardice disguised as power.

And yet, Nathan couldn’t deny the cunning behind their cruelty. Caesar and Octavius were desperate now, cornered animals fighting for survival. Desperate people often resorted to the most effective thods.

dea tilted her head slightly, her voice low. “Should I kill him?”

“Who?” Nathan asked, feigning ignorance.

“Spartacus.”

Nathan shook his head, eyes narrowing. “No. That man could still prove useful.”

“Then what should I do?” she asked.

Nathan’s smirk returned, colder this ti. “I need you to take care of a few things for ,” he said, leaning closer. He spoke quietly, his words drowned beneath the whistling of the night wind. Whatever he told her, regardless dea accepted.

Without another word, she vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the faint scent of ozone.

Later that night, Nathan t with Amaterasu in secret. The goddess had cloaked their surroundings in a divine barrier so dense that not even the faintest whisper could escape. The stars themselves seed muted beyond its reach.

“So far,” Amaterasu said softly, “no one suspects anything. None of the gods have turned their gaze on you directly.”

Nathan exhaled in relief. “Good.”

He had asked her to check—just to be sure. The gladiator tournant had drawn more divine eyes than he’d expected. Gods of war, gods of pride, gods who loved watching mortals bleed for their amusent—all of them had taken notice of his performances.

Winning the crowd was one thing.

But catching the attention of the gods… that was another matter entirely.

From Nathan’s perspective, it was still too soon. Too dangerous. He wasn’t ready—not yet—to challenge a god in open combat. He knew his limits and he accepted them.

“But of course,” Amaterasu said, her eyes glinting faintly in the dim light of her divine barrier, “Isis is the only one truly bothered by you. She’s observant—dangerously so. It won’t be long before she starts digging deeper into your past. And knowing her, she’ll eventually trace everything back… to your true identity as the Hero summoned by the Light Empire. Summoned by Khione.”

Her tone grew heavier, her voice sharp as crystal. “And once she reaches that conclusion, it won’t take much for her to connect the other disappearances—Khione’s, Hera’s, Poseidon’s. She’s far too clever not to see the pattern.”

Nathan exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. The faint outlines of Ro shimred in the night air, wrapped in divine silence. “She wants, above all else, the prosperity of the Amun-Ra Empire,” he replied calmly. “And I can tell she doesn’t trust … or my intentions regarding Ro.”

Amaterasu folded her arms, her long white sleeves catching the moonlight. “That’s mainly because she doesn’t know enough about you,” she said. “She’s pieced together fragnts—learned that you were once summoned by Aphrodite, learned that you bear the mantle of the Hero of Darkness—but she senses there’s sothing deeper you’re hiding. Sothing that doesn’t align with either god or man. That alone will drive her to act. Isis is cautious by nature; she eliminates potential threats before they ever have a chance to grow.”

Nathan’s eyes flicked toward her. “Then tell , why didn’t she do the sa with Cleopatra’s brother? Eliminating him would’ve spared thousands of lives.”

Amaterasu’s lips curved faintly—not a smile, but a knowing gesture. “You already know why,” she said. “To reclaim her throne, Cleopatra needed to be seen fighting for it. To inspire loyalty, she had to earn it in blood, not inherit it through divine interference. Now, she’s worshipped as a living goddess in Alexandria. Her struggle made her legend.”

Nathan chuckled quietly, the sound low and edged. “Then I suppose her ‘request’ for to bring down Caesar wasn’t just politics.”

“No,” Amaterasu said, shaking her head. “It was also her way of confirming who you really are. Testing the man beneath the mask.”

A slow smirk crept across Nathan’s face. “It must be frustrating for her that she found nothing.”

Amaterasu glanced sideways at him. “And yet,” she said softly, “I’m surprised you revealed your true identity so casually to Athena. That was… unlike you.”

Nathan turned his gaze toward her, intrigued by her tone. “Hmm. You disapprove?”

“I don’t,” she replied quickly, though her voice faltered for a fraction of a second. “I just… didn’t expect it.”

Nathan’s smile deepened. “Athena is a goddess of wisdom. Analytical, fair-minded, capable of understanding perspectives beyond her own. I knew she wouldn’t react blindly—wouldn’t let resentnt cloud her judgnt. When I told her the truth, it wasn’t a gamble. It was a calculated move.”

Amaterasu nodded slowly. “You’re right. She’s sharp, far more rational than most deities. Still…” Her gaze softened. “You seem to have taken quite a liking to her, haven’t you?”

Nathan’s expression shifted—his usual calm composure replaced by sothing unreadable. Without warning, he stepped closer, closing the space between them in an instant. Amaterasu froze, her breath catching as his presence enveloped her.

He raised a hand and gently touched her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin with disarming tenderness. Her divine aura flickered for just a heartbeat, surprised—but she didn’t recoil.

“When this is over,” Nathan said quietly, his voice a mixture of warmth and certainty, “let’s take so ti for ourselves. You know almost everything about , Amaterasu. My victories, my failures, even my sins. But I still know so little about you. And I want to.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate rose beneath the golden glow of her barrier. She turned her gaze away, trying—and failing—to suppress a shy smile. “T…That’s… yes. If you survive this… I’d like that,” she stamred softly.

Nathan smiled faintly, his eyes glinting like steel beneath moonlight. “Then it’s a promise.”

He stepped back, his cloak shifting with the wind. After exchanging a few more quiet words with her—details of plans and preparations—he departed, vanishing into the dark horizon.

Amaterasu remained still, her heart uncharacteristically unsteady, her mind echoing with his words.

Tomorrow would be the day.

The decisive day.

The final day of Ro.