I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Their fear was contagious. The thought that Septimius might come for them — the thought that they were on the wrong side of the monster’s wrath — gnawed at their courage like rot.

Axel clenched his fists, slamming them against the railing with a metallic clang. ”Shut up!” he barked, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. ”Let me think.”

He forced himself to breathe, to think rationally through the haze of dread clouding his mind.

Caesar. Septimius’s prime target was Caesar. And yet the man himself didn’t seem afraid — even after everything that had happened. That could only mean one thing.

”He has a plan,” Axel muttered. ”Caesar must have something prepared... he wouldn’t just sit there otherwise.”

He looked at his companions, their frightened eyes glistening in the torchlight. ”We’ll speak to him,” Axel decided at last. ”We’ll warn him, and if we need to use force, then we will. Whatever happens, we can’t just sit here and wait to die.”

He said it firmly — but inside, his heart was hammering like a war drum.

Because deep down, Axel knew one thing for certain.

Whatever plans Caesar had... whatever alliances he’d made... none of them would save him if Septimius decided to strike.