I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 141 --The Howling Gale

The Great Rift Valley.

With a single step, Owen appeared within a newly claimed stretch of land—an enormous rift valley that had just been enveloped by the expanding borders of his divine territory.

Nestled between two towering mountain peaks, the valley was a natural funnel for the fierce winds howling through it. Violent gusts surged in from every direction, magnified by the terrain. The winds shrieked with such force that they seemed to crease and warp the very fabric of the air.

Even the solid mountain stone, forged by millennia of pressure, had been carved into jagged ridges and fissures by the merciless gales. The very rock bore scars—etched deep and wide—left by the relentless fury of the wind.

Owen stood silently, gazing over the desolate scene. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

This place was extraordinary.

A natural sanctuary for wind elementals—a paradise for anyone blessed with a wind-based constitution. If someone were born or raised here, they would no doubt develop a purer, more refined wind affinity than anywhere else.

But alas, the winds here were far too savage for humans—or even most spellbeasts—to inhabit. Not even the thick-skinned beasts that roamed the wild dared settle here. The landscape was barren, stripped of all vegetation. There was no sign of grass, no roots, no vines.

Only silence.

And yet... amid the emptiness, in the very heart of the rift, Owen felt it—a faint, pulsing presence.

At the center of the valley, within a swirling vortex of wind, something unusual hovered. The storm itself, as if guided by unseen hands, shaped its currents into a protective cradle, suspending a single egg within its grasp.

A bird egg.

No one knew how long it had been here. Perhaps centuries. Perhaps more.

Ordinarily, such an egg would have long since lost any spark of life. But the endless infusion of wind elementals—countless cycles of erosion, pressure, and nurturing—had transformed it.

It had evolved.

Faint traces of cyan magic runes could be seen etched into the eggshell, glowing softly. They resembled divine glyphs—Order, imprinted by the heavens themselves. Winds that brushed past the egg grew sharper, fiercer, empowered by the aura it emitted.

"A naturally born spellbeast from environmental evolution... rare indeed."

Owen’s eyes gleamed with surprise.

Such beings were exceptionally uncommon. Inborn lifeforms were already rare; the moment they were born, they were often recognized as deities in their own right.

This creature—this egg—was not an inborn lifeform, and yet, it carried Order energy within it.

And any being with the power of Order from the moment of birth... was one step away from godhood.

Once that power awakened, it would draw the attention of all—the covetous gaze of spellbeasts, of powerful human Awakeners, of factions far and wide.

Though not a god by birth, a creature like this would still far surpass ordinary spellbeasts or humans.

"If I eat it, I might be able to absorb fragments of Order. But if I let it hatch... it might become a mighty asset."

Owen hesitated.

It was the first time he had encountered such a situation. If he consumed the egg but failed to acquire any Order fragments, he would lose out in a major way.

He carefully surveyed the surroundings again.

This was a wind-blessed land, infused with elemental energy for who knows how long. The egg had practically merged with the terrain. Once hatched, it would be a wind-born demigod, shaped entirely by this land.

It wouldn’t match a true inborn deity, no—but it might surpass even Owen’s Vassal Gods.

After all, this egg had been steeped in wind essence for far longer than his followers had trained.

The transformation of the land and the egg were entwined. The moment the egg hatched, it would likely form a divine bond with the rift valley itself.

And the best part?

This evolution didn’t cost Owen any of his precious Order fragments. It was like the land had bred its own mountain god—just for him.

"Forget eating it. Better to help it hatch... and make it mine."

The egg, after all, was already within his domain. It was his creation now.

Decision made, Owen extended his hand and gently pressed it against the shell, his palm tracing the swirling wind runes etched across its surface.

He then poured 1,000 divine points into it.

The golden divine essence flowed into the egg like sacred nectar. Inside, it broke apart, transforming into mystical patterns that coursed through the inner membranes. It helped the growing being stretch its tendons, inscribe magic runes onto its soul.

Slowly, imperceptibly, divine might began to emanate from within.

The winds roared louder.

The howling gusts in the rift grew more intense, as if celebrating the divine touch.

The runes on the eggshell began to glow faint gold, flickering like starlight in a storm.

"At this pace... it should hatch within three months."

Owen muttered to himself, visibly pleased.

He had already scanned it thoroughly using divine points. He was now certain—once hatched, the creature would be born at the level of a 2-star deity.

A 2-star god!

Stronger than a Vassal God, only slightly weaker than a 2-star Ancient God!

An incredible asset by any measure. Even Owen himself, at present, was only a 2-star Peak Ancient God.

And because this being would be born with natural control over Order, future upgrades would be even easier. All Owen would need to do is provide a bit of Order guidance—it would evolve effortlessly.

"Even in the entire history of the Caesar Empire, there are barely a dozen such ’post-birth’ deities. They’re that rare. I can’t believe I found one here. This really is a benefit of my territory’s expansion..."

He smiled, thoroughly satisfied.

If he hadn’t reached this level of power—if he hadn’t ascended to a Peak Ancient God—he wouldn’t have noticed the secret hidden within this valley.

And had he delayed his ascension any longer, he might’ve missed the chance entirely.

Once hatched, the creature would have radiated such powerful energy that spellbeasts and humans from miles around would have swarmed the area. At that point, Owen would’ve lost his claim.

But now?

Now it was within his domain.

His alone.

———

Shortly after, Owen’s figure vanished from the Great Rift and reappeared in the depths of a dense jungle.

He scanned the surroundings, his gaze locking onto six small spellbeasts.

Each one was no taller than a child, yet every single one of them exuded a tier-4 aura. One even stood at the peak of tier-4.

Still, for spellbeasts of that tier, Owen normally wouldn’t bother appearing in person.

But these were special.

"These aren’t just spellbeasts... They were once sacred herbs. After years of exposure to elemental energy, they gained sentience. Some even carry traces of primitive faith, from the humans they saved in the past..."

Owen studied them carefully.

Each of them radiated a light floral fragrance. Unlike the usual feral aura of wild beasts, these ones carried peace, grace... and even benevolence. freёweɓnovel.com

Their bodies showed no signs of human resentment or spiritual corruption.

In fact, they seemed almost divine.

They resembled little druids—miniature forest spirits—each using elemental magic to plant seeds, scatter pollen, fertilize rare herbs, and even treat wounded creatures in the jungle.

They were like sprites... or guardians of the forest.

Owen’s eyes softened. His appreciation for them only deepened.

Spellbeasts capable of cultivating herbs were incredibly rare.

Just then, the six tiny spellbeasts froze. They had clearly sensed an overwhelming presence. Trembling, they huddled together and looked skyward.

Descending like a mountain from the clouds came a towering figure—Owen himself.

His divine aura, radiating with absolute pressure, crashed down like a divine avalanche. The spellbeasts’ breath caught in their throats. The elemental energy within them trembled and scattered.

This being...

This presence...

They instinctively knew—they were facing something far beyond them.

"A god... Are you a god?"

One of the little spellbeasts asked, voice trembling, eyes wide.