I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 144 --Time Order

The moment Owen placed his palm against the coffin, a soul-piercing chill surged up his arm and gripped his heart. The coffin’s lid—etched with a cross—began to slowly slide open, revealing the figure lying within.

Inside rested a being of extraordinary beauty and solemnity—an angel with snowy white hair, closed eyes, and long lashes like delicate brushes. The noble air he exuded was overwhelming, even in repose. He looked less like a corpse and more like a sleeping deity.

Owen’s gaze drifted across the angel’s serene face, then fell upon a particular feature—a single, unusual feather.

It was a long, milk-white wing feather that moved gently despite the absence of wind. It emanated a distinct aura, one that resonated with mysterious power.

But just as Owen prepared to examine it more closely, the feather... vanished.

His eyes narrowed in surprise, and in the next breath, an immense force erupted from within the coffin.

The angel’s eyes snapped open.

They were crystalline white—translucent and as frigid as a winter storm. The air around them plummeted in temperature at once, frost seeping into the fabric of reality itself. The mere act of being seen by the angel sent shivers through the void.

"A human?" the angel spoke, his voice laced with killing intent as soon as he locked eyes on Owen.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the angel’s wings beat once—blindingly fast. In a flash, he shot out of the coffin like a lance of divine wrath, his palm wreathed in chilling white ice, forming a spear-like blade that streaked straight for Owen’s throat.

This was no warning.

This was an execution.

But Owen merely looked at him, unshaken.

This angel, while indeed powerful—reaching tier-6 peak, and perhaps possessing tier-7-level combat strength—was nothing in Owen’s eyes.

"You’re half-dead already. Might as well finish the job and send you to the afterlife."

He met the assault head-on, throwing a single punch.

Flames roared.

A wave of heat, like a tide of molten sunfire, surged forward. The frost-laced air was incinerated instantly, and Owen’s burning fist landed squarely on the angel’s chest. In a flash, the divine flames consumed the being’s soul entirely.

The angel didn’t even have time to scream.

His face remained locked in a mask of stunned disbelief, frozen mid-expression as the very essence of his soul was burned to nothing.

All that remained was an empty shell.

"That feather... its disappearance triggered the revival of the angel. It carried traces of Time Order."

Owen stood silently, recalling the scene that had just unfolded.

Before he opened the coffin, that unique feather had created a pocket of stasis—separating the angel from the flow of time itself. Time could not touch him, nor age his body. The coffin, combined with the feather, had suspended him between life and death.

That was how these angels had endured across millennia.

Even the strongest tier-9 Awakeners or ancient beings couldn’t hope to survive such vast stretches of time without some kind of temporal anchor. These feathers were the key.

"The power of Time Order is nearly impossible to grasp... but this angel had lingering traces of it. Could someone out there have already begun mastering this domain?"

The thought surprised Owen. Yet the surprise quickly faded.

Even if someone had dabbled in Time Order, it was clearly only on the surface. The moment the feather vanished, the temporal balance broke. These angels, for all their lingering vitality, were little more than moving corpses.

No wonder Owen had only sensed the faintest signs of life earlier.

Driven by curiosity—and eager to confirm his theory—Owen acted again.

With a single thought, he extended his divine power outward, bursting open over a dozen more coffins in rapid succession.

As each coffin shattered, the feathers resting atop the angels’ chests began to tremble, shimmer, and then fade from existence.

Each time, it was the same.

Just like the first angel.

"So it’s true. Those feathers carry Time Order, but only in its most rudimentary form. Without the coffins as stabilizing seals, their effect is limited—practically useless."

Owen let out a quiet sigh of regret.

Had he been able to seize control of Time Order, even partially, his level, combat power, and divine abilities would’ve undergone a massive leap. But alas, that domain was still far beyond his current reach.

Still, this discovery was already monumental.

He had unearthed a reversed mountain, a pocket realm of angels, and hints of temporal manipulation. That alone was worth more than gold.

Were any other gods to stumble upon this sacred site, they would’ve been overwhelmed. These angels—many of them near tier-7 in strength—weren’t opponents ordinary gods could handle.

But Owen had the strength—and the resolve—to destroy them.

And these beings, as mythical as they were, had staggering value in the system’s divine marketplace.

If he sold both the angel corpses and the inverted mountain, the divine points he’d earn would be astronomical.

In fact, it would likely be enough to fund nearly half of what he needed to ascend to 3-star Ancient God—a sum totaling 2.25 million divine points.

That was incredible.

Especially considering he had only just become a 2-star peak Ancient God not long ago. To be this close to a breakthrough already? It was almost too good to be true.

He remembered how difficult it had been to scrape together the 150,000 divine points for his last upgrade. It had taken countless sacrifices, multiple offerings, and the help of a hundredfold boost—just to barely reach his current level.

Other gods might spend years—decades even—struggling to accumulate divine points.

And now, Owen was standing at the edge of fortune.

The excitement surged within him like a tidal wave. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. A golden path had opened beneath his feet.

And yet...

The moment was shattered by the explosive cries of awakened angels.

As the coffins broke, one by one, more angels stirred from their eternal slumber.

"A human!?"

"How did a human get here!?"

"Kill him! KILL HIM!"

Their voices were sharp, panicked, murderous.

Every angel carried within them the purpose of preserving their kind. Their survival depended on secrecy, and the idea of being discovered—especially by a human—was intolerable.

He could not be allowed to live.

In a flash, over a dozen Celestial Lions—warrior-class angels clad in light—rushed Owen like a blinding wave of divine brilliance.

They glowed with sacred energy, their wings slicing through the darkness like blades of starlight. Each of them possessed the strength to threaten a tier-6 Awakener—and they were fully capable of combining their powers through sacred contracts.

Together, their combined charge lit up the entire sealed realm like the descent of a holy army.

But Owen... was ready.

With a single flick of his finger, dozens of fireballs erupted from his position, blazing through the void like meteors.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Each shot found its mark.

The angels’ radiant bodies were pierced in an instant, divine flames erupting from their wounds. The sacred light they had once embodied now became their funeral pyres.

"Impossible..."

"How can his power be this terrifying?"

Agony shot through their bones like lightning. Their once-pristine bodies now cracked and burned. Their spirits, once the embodiment of divine resolve, began to leak away uncontrollably from their wounds—like rivers breaking free of a shattered dam.

Their arrogance melted in the face of true power.

And Owen, standing amidst the flames, remained unmoved.

He was no longer just a trespasser in their sacred space.

He was the judge.

The executor.

The one who would decide whether this race of fallen angels would ever be remembered—or forgotten by time itself.