I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me - Chapter 629: Spartacus’s new life

Chapter 629: Spartacus’s new life

After spending approximately an hour simply being present with Medea and Idena—no agenda, no pressing concerns, just existing together as a family in rare peaceful domesticity—Nathan finally took his leave from the isolated mansion .

He had savored every moment of that stolen time, understanding how precious and fleeting such interludes were given the constant demands perpetually pulling him in different directions . But duty eventually called, as it always did, and he had other matters requiring his attention before departing for Kastoria .

Next, Nathan headed out of Tenebria’s capital entirely, launching himself skyward and flying away from the urban sprawl. The transition from densely populated city to more rural landscape happened quickly—within minutes the tightly packed buildings gave way to open fields, scattered farms, and patches of wild forest that hadn’t yet been cleared for cultivation .

He flew for approximately ten minutes beyond the capital’s outermost districts, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain below for a specific landmark .

There—he spotted it almost immediately. A column of smoke rising toward the heavens, thick and dark against the pale sky, clearly marking the location of substantial fires burning below.

Nathan immediately altered his trajectory and descended rapidly toward that smoke signal, dropping altitude with practiced ease until the ground rushed up to meet him.

He landed directly in the center of where the fire was billowing upward from carefully controlled burn pits, his feet hitting the earth with enough force to raise a small cloud of dust and draw instant attention from everyone in the immediate vicinity.

The reaction was immediate and dramatic .

“Oh!!” someone shouted in surprise .

“What the hell?!” another voice called out, startled and alarmed .

“An attack?! To arms!” a third yelled, already reaching for weapons .

“WHO DARES?!” bellowed a particularly aggressive voice from somewhere to Nathan’s left .

His sudden appearance in the middle of their settlement had clearly been interpreted as a potential hostile incursion rather than a friendly visit.. All around the central fire pit, men scrambled into defensive positions with the speed and coordination of those who had spent years fighting for their lives. Weapons materialized seemingly from nowhere—swords pulled from sheaths, axes grabbed from where they’d been resting against chopping blocks, spears snatched up from nearby storage.

Within seconds, Nathan found himself surrounded by a ring of armed, battle-ready men, all glaring at him with suspicion and readiness to attack at the slightest provocation.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” Nathan said with remarkable casualness given the number of lethal weapons currently pointed in his direction. His golden eyes swept across the assembled former gladiators with mild amusement.

There was a beat of confused silence as the men actually looked at him properly rather than simply reacting to sudden movement. Recognition dawned gradually as they processed Nathan’s distinctive appearance—the white hair, the unmistakable golden demonic eyes, the particular way he carried himself that marked him as utterly unique .

Relief washed across multiple faces simultaneously as tension drained from ready combat stances.

“Septimius! You scared the absolute hell out of us again!” One of the gladiators exclaimed, lowering his sword with a mixture of relief and exasperation.

“How about trying to walk through the entrance slowly and announce yourself like any normal person would?”

“Do I look like a normal person to you?” Nathan replied dryly, raising one eyebrow in challenge at the gladiator who had made that particular suggestion .

The man opened his mouth to respond, then apparently thought better of it, closed his mouth, and simply shook his head in defeat.

Actually, everyone present shook their heads almost in unison, acknowledging the absurdity of expecting normal behavior from someone as extraordinary as Nathan had proven himself to be. Then they nodded in agreement with the unspoken consensus that yes, expecting normalcy from him was utterly unrealistic .

“Where is Spartacus?” Nathan asked.

“He should be at home right now,” one of the gladiators replied immediately, gesturing vaguely toward the residential section of their small settlement.

Nathan turned away from the fire pit, heading in the direction indicated toward Spartacus’s dwelling.

This wasn’t his first visit to this settlement, so he knew the layout reasonably well and could navigate without detailed directions. His feet carried him along the packed-earth paths that wound between buildings, his eyes taking in the familiar sights with quiet satisfaction .

The village was small but vibrant, built on land that had been completely empty just two years ago. This particular plot—situated outside Tenebria’s capital but closer to the city than any other settlement in the region—had been granted to the gladiators by Queen Azariah after Nathan specifically requested it on their behalf .

Two years ago, Nathan had given Spartacus a choice about his future and the futures of his fellow former slaves. Spartacus had accepted Nathan’s offer to relocate to Tenebria, and the other gladiators who had survived their ordeal together chose to follow their leader into this new uncertain existence.

In the end, approximately thirty of them had made the journey, abandoning their homeland entirely to start fresh in a demon kingdom where at least they would be genuinely free. Nathan had promised them homes and safety, and he had delivered on that promise completely.

Spartacus and the other gladiators, being human, had understandably preferred to establish their settlement outside the capital rather than trying to live within a city predominantly populated by demons. It wasn’t that Tenebria’s demons were overtly hostile to humans anymore—since Azariah became Queen, the intense hatred and prejudice that had previously existed against humans had diminished considerably. But old resentments didn’t disappear overnight simply because leadership changed .

The human kingdoms had attacked Tenebria repeatedly over the decades, inflicting enormous suffering on demon civilians who had done nothing to deserve such persecution. Of course, the previous Demon King had also made countless humans suffer through his mad campaigns, so the cycle of violence and revenge had perpetuated itself across generations. Still, ordinary demon citizens who had never harmed anyone understandably resented the humans who had killed their families and burned their homes.

Since Nathan’s appearance as a human Hero of Darkness, demon perspectives on humanity had begun shifting noticeably. If a human could become their greatest champion and most respected military leader, then perhaps humans weren’t uniformly terrible after all. But changing deeply ingrained prejudices took time, and the gladiators had wisely chosen not to test how welcoming the capital’s population truly was.

The gladiators could have lived within Tenebria’s walls if they’d insisted, but they genuinely preferred not to. They had changed continents entirely, traveled to a land utterly foreign to everything they’d known, and the Demonic capital’s architecture, culture, and atmosphere felt profoundly alien to men raised in human societies. So they had chosen to build their own village here on the outskirts, creating something familiar and comfortable rather than struggling to adapt to demon urban life .

The houses surrounding Nathan as he walked were simple structures built by the gladiators themselves using readily available materials—boulders for foundations and lower walls, packed earth for floors, straw and timber for roofs and upper construction . The buildings were quite low and modest compared to the impressive architecture found in Tenebria’s capital, lacking the dramatic aesthetic and sophisticated engineering of demon construction .

But none of the gladiators seemed to be complaining about their humble accommodations. In fact, quite the opposite—they appeared universally thrilled with their new lives since settling here two years ago.

They had genuine freedom for the first time in years or even decades. No masters, no chains, no being forced to kill for entertainment. They could work when they chose, rest when they needed, build and create rather than merely destroy.

And remarkably, impressively, every single one of the gladiators had also founded families since arriving.

Families.

Every gladiator without exception had found a wife among the demon women from surrounding areas. The pairings had formed naturally and organically over the months following the settlement’s establishment.

They made blessed-looking couples, honestly—the burly, muscular, hot-blooded gladiators paired with demon women who seemed genuinely enchanted by their new husbands. It appeared that demon women had fallen hard for these strong, passionate human warriors who treated them with respect and devotion.

The cultural exchange worked both ways, creating something genuinely unique . Human men with demon wives, children being born who would carry both heritages, traditions blending and creating new hybrid customs.

From an outside perspective, this village represented something quite remarkable—a genuine integration of human and demon societies at the most fundamental level. Perhaps this small settlement pointed toward what the future could look like if old hatreds were allowed to fade.

The person who could be considered the unofficial chief or leader of this unique village was unquestionably Spartacus. The other gladiators looked to him for guidance and leadership just as they had during their captivity, but now his authority came from respect rather than desperate circumstances.

Nathan arrived soon in front of Spartacus’s house—easily identifiable as slightly larger than the others and positioned centrally within the settlement. The door stood open, allowing fresh air to circulate through the interior.

He had barely reached the threshold when a woman emerged from inside, clearly having noticed his approach .

It was Curia.

The former slave girl who had endured so much suffering, who had been rescued alongside Spartacus, and who had now become his wife in this new life they’d built together . She looked healthier and happier than Nathan had ever seen her—well-fed, properly clothed, with color in her cheeks and genuine joy in her eyes.

The moment she recognized Nathan, an enormous smile spread across her face.

“Oh, Lord Septimius! Welcome!” She exclaimed warmly, her voice carrying genuine pleasure at his unexpected visit.

“Spartacus is here?” Nathan asked, seeking confirmation before entering uninvited.

“Yes, he’ll be returning very soon—he just stepped out briefly to handle something,” Curia replied with that same warm welcoming smile. “Please, come inside and make yourself comfortable while we wait for him.”

Nathan followed her across the threshold into the modest interior of their home. The space was simple but clean and well-maintained, with clear evidence of a woman’s touch in the organized arrangement of furniture and the small decorative elements that transformed bare walls into something approaching cozy.

Almost immediately upon entering, Nathan heard a distinctive sound that was simultaneously universal and uniquely piercing—the crying of an infant . The wailing was loud and insistent, carrying that particular quality of distress that babies seemed to produce effortlessly when something displeased them.

It was Cattia, Spartacus and Curia’s daughter .

She had been born just a few months ago, making her one of the newest additions to this growing settlement of mixed human-demon families . Nathan had heard about the birth but hadn’t yet met the child in person.

“Here I come, don’t cry, my little precious baby,” Curia said immediately, her maternal instincts overriding everything else as she rushed toward where the infant lay crying . She scooped Cattia up with ease, cradling the small bundle against her chest with infinite gentleness. Her entire demeanor transformed the moment she held her daughter, her expression becoming suffused with that particular warm glow that seemed exclusive to mothers with their children.

The baby’s cries diminished somewhat at being held, though she continued fussing with clear displeasure about something in her limited infant world.

“Septimius.”

Nathan turned at the familiar deep voice and immediately spotted Spartacus entering through the back entrance of the dwelling.

The legendary gladiator was carrying an absolutely massive dead bear slung across his broad shoulders as casually as though it weighed no more than a small rabbit . The beast had to weigh several hundred pounds at minimum, yet Spartacus showed no strain whatsoever from bearing its weight. Blood still dripped from the bear’s wounds, and its fur was matted with dirt from being dragged through the forest .

“Spartacus! I’ve told you repeatedly not to bring these things inside our home!” Curia complained immediately, her voice sharp with exasperation even as she continued gently rocking the fussing infant. “It stinks absolutely terrible! You’re going to make Cattia cry even worse than she already is! Take it back outside right now!”

The contrast between fierce warrior and henpecked husband was almost comical . This was the same Spartacus who had led slave revolts, who had killed countless opponents in gladiatorial combat, who was feared throughout multiple kingdoms for his martial prowess. Yet here he stood, being scolded by his wife about tracking animal carcasses into their hom .

“Ah… sorry, you’re right,” Spartacus apologized immediately, actually looking somewhat sheepish as he turned around and hauled the massive bear back outside. His voice carried genuine contrition rather than mere placation—he clearly took his wife’s complaints seriously.

He disappeared for approximately a minute, presumably depositing his kill somewhere more appropriate, then returned wiping his hands on a cloth to remove the blood and grime.

“It looks like you’re having quite a good life here,” Nathan said

Who could have predicted this outcome? The great Spartacus, legendary warrior and rebel leader, had apparently retired from constant warfare, put down his weapons in favor of family life, and found genuine happiness in domesticity. It was simultaneously unexpected and strangely appropriate—even the fiercest warriors deserved peace eventually .

“It’s entirely thanks to you, Septimius,” Curia said earnestly, shifting Cattia to rest more comfortably against her shoulder as the baby’s fussing finally began to subside. “You gave us this opportunity, this freedom, this chance to build something real instead of just surviving day to day. We will be forever grateful for everything you’ve done for us and all the other .”

Her gratitude was clearly genuine and deeply felt, her eyes shining with emotion as she spoke.

“Are you grateful as well, Spartacus?” Nathan asked, redirecting his attention to the gladiator with intent.

“What do you actually want, Septimius?” Spartacus cut through the pleasantries with characteristic bluntness, his expression growing more serious . “You didn’t fly all the way out here just to check on our domestic situation or admire my daughter. What’s the real purpose of this visit?”

Nathan couldn’t help but smile at that directness.

“The Light Empire has been substantially reinforcing their military forces,” Nathan said, his tone shifting to match Spartacus’s seriousness . “Our information,s indicates they’re preparing for significant action, and it’s entirely possible they’ll attempt to infiltrate Tenebria through various methods. Your settlement’s position makes it strategically relevant—you’re close enough to the capital to serve as an early warning system if properly vigilant.”

“Spies, you mean,” Spartacus said flatly, immediately grasping the implications. He walked toward Curia as he spoke, reaching out to gently pat their daughter’s small back with surprising tenderness for such battle-scarred hands. “You’re concerned about Light Empire intelligence operatives trying to gather information or prepare sabotage.”

“Spies certainly, but potentially worse than that—small strike teams, assassins, agents provocateurs trying to destabilize the region,” Nathan confirmed . “I need you and your people to keep vigilant watch over the forest approaches and pay particular attention to anyone trying to reach the capital gates through unconventional routes. I’ll speak with Azariah about assigning additional demon soldiers to support your efforts if you think the manpower would help, but regardless, I want you to increase your patrol frequency and expand your surveillance range.”

Spartacus nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as he processed the request and its implications.

“So you’re finally going to launch your attack against that empire?” he asked, already knowing about Nathan’s long-standing plans to eventually move against the Light Empire. The gladiators weren’t privy to detailed strategic planning, but Nathan had never hidden his ultimate intentions regarding that particular enemy.

“Soon, when circumstances align properly and the timing proves optimal,” Nathan replied without elaborating on specifics . “There are still pieces that need positioning before we can move decisively.”

“Knowing you and how you operate, you must already have some kind of shrewd, multilayered plan prepared to systematically destroy them, don’t you?” Spartacus asked with something approaching admiration in his gruff voice.

Though he hadn’t fully understood the mechanics of how Nathan had accomplished it, Spartacus knew that Nathan had been single-handedly responsible for orchestrating Julius Caesar’s dramatic fall from power in Rome . That alone spoke volumes about his capacity for manipulation.

“Something along those lines, yes,” Nathan replied not saying more about his plan.

He turned toward the door, preparing to take his leave now that his primary message had been delivered.

“You’re welcome to stay and share a meal with us, Septimius,” Curia offered warmly at that moment, genuine hospitality coloring her invitation.

“I appreciate the offer, but I need to decline,” Nathan replied. “I have other matters requiring attention before my departure for Kastoria .”

He paused then, his golden eyes fixing on Spartacus with particular intensity . The gladiator stood there holding his daughter with surprising gentleness, his wife beside him, the picture of domestic contentment and hard-won peace .

They genuinely did look like a good, happy family . The kind of family that Spartacus had probably never imagined he would have during his years of brutal captivity and constant warfare.

“I hope you understand, Spartacus,” Nathan said, “that even more than before—perhaps especially now—you need to continue getting stronger and staying sharp.”

The implication hung clearly in the air between them .

It was genuinely good that Spartacus had become a family man, had found love again, and purpose beyond mere survival and violence. Nathan wouldn’t dream of begrudging him that happiness or suggesting he should have remained alone and bitter.

But becoming a husband and father shouldn’t make him lose the edge that had kept him alive through impossible circumstances. He couldn’t afford to become soft or complacent, couldn’t allow domestic comfort to dull the instincts and combat readiness that defined him as a warrior.

Because now he had even more to protect than just his own life. Now he had a wife who depended on him, a daughter who needed her father, and an entire settlement of former gladiators and their families who looked to him for leadership and protection.

If threats came—and Nathan’s warning strongly suggested threats were indeed coming—Spartacus would need every bit of his legendary skill and ferocity to defend what he’d built .

Spartacus held Nathan’s gaze steadily, and after a long moment of silent communication, he nodded with absolute seriousness.

“I know, don’t worry.”