I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 148 --A Bountiful Harvest

At the moment when Black Viper’s terror reached its peak, it turned to flee at the fastest speed it could muster. Yet just as it spun around, it suddenly caught sight of a pair of cold, merciless eyes—eyes that blazed like twin golden suns, too radiant and intense to gaze upon directly—locking onto its fleeing figure.

Under the terrifying focus of that gaze, Black Viper’s entire body stiffened. Its scales bristled and stood on end like those of a hedgehog startled out of its wits. Dense, choking poison mist, thick as plumes of black wolf smoke, erupted from its body and surged frantically toward those twin suns.

Yet the deadly venom, containing Black Viper’s very life essence, didn’t even have the chance to spread. The instant it came into contact with the golden radiance, it evaporated completely, vanishing into nothingness. Then, like countless spears forged from pure light, the golden beams pierced through Black Viper’s body, sending bright crimson blood spraying into the air.

In the very next instant, Black Viper’s corpse, riddled with countless holes like a sieve, froze and stiffened. Its form was drawn into the void itself, disintegrating into oblivion without leaving a trace behind.

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the battlefield, the colossal flaming hand descended upon the six formidable spellbeasts. Having already been scorched by the initial assault, the six spellbeasts were left utterly weakened, barely clinging to life. They could do nothing but stare helplessly as the flaming hand reached toward them, grabbing them effortlessly before all six vanished into the fiery palm and disappeared without a trace.

"Deus Initium! Spare me! Have mercy, please spare me!"

Madam Spider, who had already begun her desperate escape, now screamed in terror, her cries shrill and frantic. Gone was the previous composure, gone was the cunning calculation she once exuded—now she was reduced to a trembling, pitiful wretch, pleading for her life without a shred of dignity.

Because she could clearly sense it—the flaming hand was coming for her.

The heavens and earth seemed to burn as rolling waves of fire consumed the sky. From a distance, the entire world was bathed in a sea of crimson, resembling a fiery crucible where heaven and earth alike were forged anew.

With the flame-clad hand locking onto her aura, Madam Spider had no chance of escaping. The blazing hand descended from above, sealing off her every avenue of retreat with terrifying swiftness.

Five enormous fingers, like pillars that could imprison the heavens themselves, encircled her. Divine golden light, sharp and penetrating, invaded her very bones and marrow, piercing into her limbs and spine. Madam Spider’s complexion instantly turned deathly pale, drained of all blood.

Judging from the terrifying aura emanating from the flaming hand alone, the entity that had unleashed it was undoubtedly a powerhouse at tier-7—perhaps even at the incomprehensible heights of tier-8!

How could such a being possibly appear here?

Madam Spider’s mind was consumed with regret. How she wished she could turn back time—back to before she so foolishly accepted this seemingly simple task with such eagerness and blind confidence.

But no matter how fervently she begged for mercy, no matter how bitter her regrets, the flaming hand remained utterly indifferent. It paid no heed to her desperate pleas and simply closed around her, imprisoning her completely. Then, with a final surge of firelight, the hand and its captured prey both disappeared from the world.

...

At that moment, across Owen’s territory, the skies that had been darkened with chaos and the oppressive presence of spellbeasts suddenly cleared. The air itself seemed to brighten and settle.

Every spellbeast that remained within Owen’s dominion now trembled uncontrollably. Their fangs chattered. Their very souls quailed in terror.

The spellbeasts that had previously descended from the skies—those spellbeasts that even a mere glimpse of would normally cause them to grovel and kowtow, calling them "ancestors" in awe and fear—had all been annihilated without resistance.

Most of the spellbeasts inhabiting Owen’s territory were relatively weak, ranging only between tier-4 and below. Yet those invaders who had arrived earlier were monsters of another class entirely—the weakest among them had been tier-5 peak, with many being full tier-6 and even tier-6 peak behemoths.

Such creatures, at a casual wave of their claws, could slaughter countless of the weaker spellbeasts. They were forces of nature, titans among titans.

Yet here, today, even those mighty spellbeasts had been obliterated in an instant. None had managed even the slightest resistance. No corpses remained, no howls of anguish lingered. It was as if they had never existed at all.

The horrifying ease with which they were dispatched was akin to a human crushing an ant underfoot.

Faced with such overwhelming power, the surviving spellbeasts within Owen’s lands felt as if an immense blade hung perpetually above their necks. None dared remain a moment longer. They abandoned their dens, their territories, their hard-won holdings—and fled en masse toward the distant edges of Annasi Town, desperate to escape the domain of this terrifying being.

They had intelligence, after all. None wished to live under the shadow of a capricious deity who clearly delighted in crushing spellbeasts into dust.

...

Inside the statue of the temple, Owen sat quietly, his gaze cold as he observed the fleeing spellbeasts.

With a slight motion of his hand, a radiant golden halo burst outward from his body, surging over the fields, the mountains, the rivers, and the scattered villages of his domain. It swept outward with irresistible momentum, racing toward the outermost borders of his lands.

The halo expanded at such speed that the escaping spellbeasts had no chance to evade it. The instant the golden light brushed against them, it unleashed its terrifying effect.

Boom! Boom!

Regardless of their rank or strength, any spellbeast that had ever harmed a human, consumed a human, or even raised a claw against humanity, was immediately seized by the divine force. They exploded on the spot, their bodies unable to withstand the holy judgment. Muffled detonations rang out one after another.

Blood, shattered bones, and brain matter rained down like grotesque blossoms blooming across the landscape. From afar, it resembled a field of crimson flowers—sinister, dazzling, and chilling to behold.

The humans who had once trembled in fear, seeing the rampant spellbeasts tear through their villages and cities, now stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

For the first time in living memory, it was the spellbeasts who were being slaughtered wholesale.

Shock turned swiftly into reverence. Across the ravaged towns and villages, the people knelt and bowed toward the distant temple where Owen resided.

"Thank you, Deus Initium!"

"Thank you, O Divine One, for ridding us of these monsters!"

"We shall offer our devout prayers forevermore!"

To the simple villagers, Owen’s display of divine might had been an irrefutable revelation—he was no false idol, no powerless spirit. He was real, and he had the power to protect them.

What reason did they have not to worship him with their whole hearts?

And so, more and more villagers began to prostrate themselves before the temple, offering heartfelt prayers. Their voices rose like waves, sweeping across the land.

Inside the temple, Owen could not suppress the broad smile that blossomed across his face.

It was as if the heavens themselves had conspired to deliver this bounty to him.

The spellbeasts had come like offerings, bearing their hard-won strength to him on a silver platter. He had displayed his divine wrath at the perfect moment, securing an immense harvest of devotees!

"After this," Owen mused, his heart full of satisfaction, "the 300,000 humans living within my territory will all, without exception, become my faithful devotees."

"And once that foundation is secure, I can have Thomas and the other missionaries focus on stabilizing them—providing them with food, seeds, and homes. Their faith will deepen further!"

"Over time, their word-of-mouth will spread beyond my domain. Even outsiders will flock to my name. I should easily reach half a million devotees!"

He could already see it: a brighter, richer future gleaming ahead.

For a deity like Owen, devotees were the very lifeblood of existence.

The explosive growth in their numbers would allow him to harvest a vast, unimaginable supply of spice points every single day. Compared to the unstable gains from scavenging divine points through battles and sales, the steady devotion of the masses was far more efficient and sustainable.

Moving swiftly, Owen opened his system interface. He began transferring the corpses of the angels he had slain, as well as the defeated spellbeasts, into his system inventory.

Streams of light flashed one after another, absorbing the corpses into the storage space.

As this happened, a torrent of divine power surged into Owen’s body. His stockpile of divine points grew rapidly.

When the transfer was complete and the divine energy stabilized, Owen glanced at the number displayed on his system panel—and couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Eighty-five thousand three hundred and thirty divine points!"

Such a colossal harvest!

And that was only from selling the spellbeast corpses. Just those alone had earned him over eighty thousand divine points.

Having just ascended to the limit of a 2-star Ancient God, Owen was ecstatic to have amassed such a wealth of divine power so quickly.

As the energy fully integrated into his body, Owen’s total divine point count climbed further—to a staggering 874,566.

Nearly nine hundred thousand divine points!

If any other deity had learned of the wealth Owen now possessed, their jaws would have dropped. It was simply too much—utterly unbelievable.

Even diligent gods who had labored for over a year would not have gathered more than a tiny fraction of what Owen now commanded.

Among the few rare beings who had already risen to the level of 2-star Ancient Gods, none could boast a divine treasury so vast. Even winning battle after battle in the god wars would not yield such riches.

Finally, Owen’s gaze turned toward a certain object he had recently acquired—the Inverted Mountain.

This rare Sacred Vestige shimmered with power. Its value alone likely exceeded the combined worth of the spellbeast and angel corpses he had just sold.

Yet despite the tempting prospect of selling it, Owen hesitated.

After all, a tier-8 Sacred Vestige was a once-in-a-lifetime treasure—an opportunity that might never come again.