I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 324: Enslaving the Third Goddess

The heavens seemed to shatter as the explosion tore through the earth, splitting the ground as if a hole had been punched straight into the planet's core. A blinding inferno of divine fire and glacial destruction consumed everything in its path, swallowing Poseidon whole. The impact shook the very foundations of the world, sending shockwaves rippling across the land. 

Fortunately, the devastation did not extend beyond the confines of the city. From the outside, there was no indication of the battle raging within—no thunderous explosions, no cries of pain, not even the faintest echo of destruction. The reason for this eerie silence lay in the five divine barriers encasing Lyrnessus, powerful constructs woven by celestial hands to contain all sound, energy, and force within their shimmering confines. 

To the rest of the world, the city remained untouched, undisturbed. At most, an occasional tremor might have rippled through the distant lands, subtle enough to be mistaken for a natural occurrence. No one outside would suspect that the gods themselves were waging war within these walls. 

For a brief moment, thick plumes of smoke veiled the battlefield, obscuring the aftermath of the catastrophic assault. The ground where Poseidon had borne the full brunt of two Divine Rank Spells—spells that had been meticulously crafted and fortified over the past days—was nothing more than scorched ruin. The sheer force of the combined magic had shattered the terrain, leaving deep fissures in the earth, but more importantly, it had struck down one of the mightiest gods of Olympus. 

And then, through the dissipating smoke, his figure emerged. 

"GAGHR!" 

A wet, gurgling sound tore through the battlefield as Poseidon staggered forward, blood spilling in a violent torrent from his mouth and splattering onto the charred ground beneath him. His once-pristine divine form was now a grotesque mockery of itself—his flesh, once unyielding and godlike, had been seared away in places, exposing the eerie, marble-white bones beneath. His body, though still standing, looked barely capable of sustaining itself. 

By all rights, he should have perished from such an attack. Any lesser deity would have been obliterated. Yet Poseidon—God of the Seas, one of Olympus' greatest—still clung to existence, a testament to his unfathomable power. Even so, he had not emerged unscathed, and the weight of his own mortality settled over him like a suffocating tide. 

He had fallen into a trap. A simple, foolish trap. 

His ragged breaths came in uneven heaves, his chest rising and falling in strained desperation. A thin veil of water shimmered around his body, a desperate attempt to mend his injuries, to restore his divine frame. But it was slow. Agonizingly slow. 

His gaze darkened. Gone was the arrogance, the amusement that once danced in his eyes. What remained was something colder, sharper—a seething rage that burned from within. He had come close to death. Too close. And that was something he could not—would not—forgive. 

"K…Khione…" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his fury. His piercing gaze locked onto the goddess before him, standing with an air of icy indifference. 

Again. 

That look. 

That cold, detached expression she always wore, as if he were beneath her notice. 

How he had always wished to break it. 

A slow, cruel smirk curled at the corner of his lips despite his pain. 

"I am going to—" 

"Divine Rank Skill."