I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 551: Septimius to the finals of the Gladiator Tournament and Axel’s fear!

The duel between Septimius and Isak concluded in the most predictable way imaginable — an overwhelming, almost effortless victory for Septimius.

Few among the audience had ever doubted the outcome. Only a handful of Septimius’s rare detractors, driven more by envy than reason, had clung to the desperate hope that the foreign Hero, Isak, might somehow prevail.

After all, Isak was no ordinary man. He was one of the Heroes summoned by the Gods themselves, a being whispered to possess divine blessings and power that transcended mortal limits. His name — and that of his fellow summoned — had spread far and wide, carried on the tongues of bards and travelers across continents. Tales of their extraordinary feats had stirred the imagination of even the Romans, who prided themselves on their might and discipline.

So naturally, when the time came for Isak to stand against Septimius, anticipation filled every corner of the Colosseum. The people of Rome had expected a spectacle — a clash of titans that would shake the very ground beneath their feet. Perhaps, they thought, it would be the first true challenge for their beloved champion.

But what followed was not a contest.It was a humiliation.

From the very first exchange, Isak was outmatched. His strikes lacked rhythm, his defenses collapsed under the sheer weight of Septimius’s blows. Each move from Septimius was calm, calculated, and devastating. It was not the fight of equals — it was a demonstration, a statement of absolute dominance.

At times, it almost seemed as though Septimius was toying with him — moving just enough to parry, just enough to counter, showing restraint so deliberate that it bordered on mockery.

And yet, the crowd loved it.

Ordinarily, the Romans thrived on the chaos of uncertainty — they desired fierce battles, blood, and the raw tension of near defeat. But Septimius was the exception. He could crush his opponent without resistance, and they would still cheer. His elegance, his sheer authority in combat, mesmerized them. To watch him fight was to witness perfection given form.

To the people of Rome, he was not merely a warrior. He was their pride, their living symbol of supremacy. A man from their world had just annihilated a Hero from another.

Of course, none of them knew the truth — that Septimius, or rather Nathan, was also a Hero summoned from another world. The difference was that he had forged his strength here, through battle, blood, and relentless will. Isak, on the other hand, had been spoon-fed power, his strength inflated from the moment of his summoning, his resolve untested.

As Nathan left the arena, his steps calm and unhurried, Caesar’s expression darkened. The ruler of Rome sat unmoving, his gaze fixed on the victorious figure below.

Ahead of him, his daughter Julia clapped fervently, her face flushed red as she gazed at Nathan with unhidden admiration. Caesar barely noticed her.

”How foolish I’ve been,” he muttered under his breath, voice low enough that none around him could hear. ”To believe that this weakling Hero ever had a chance...”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples, before turning his eyes upward. High above, Athena sat upon her radiant throne, a divine silhouette against the heavens.

Something was wrong.

Even after Johanna had revealed the truth — that Septimius was, in fact, Heiron, the very same figure responsible for the Greek’s devastating loss in the Trojan War, the deceiver who had once attempted to trick her upon arriving in Rome — Athena had done nothing.

By all logic, by all divine law, she should have struck him down on the spot. And yet... she hadn’t.

If anything, it seemed as though the goddess had shown approval — as if she were cheering for him.

Caesar’s mind raced. Had Athena... forgiven him? No. Impossible. A goddess’s pride was absolute.

Then a more sinister thought crept into his mind.

Perhaps Nathan had already revealed everything to her — his schemes, his ambitions, even his intention to enslave her through Pandora’s power. And perhaps, in the eyes of the goddess, he had simply proven to be the superior being, the one more worthy of her favor.

If that were true... then Caesar’s position was dire.

He clenched his fists beneath his robe, jaw tightening. ”It doesn’t matter,” he whispered to himself. ”Tomorrow... everything will end.”

That thought was his only comfort.