I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 152 --The Killing Leaderboard

At once, Owen’s gaze turned deep and contemplative as he stared downward into the depths of the earth.

Dantean Hell — the legendary region of terror, the final resting place for all ghosts and the souls bound to hell.

Now that he had become a 2-star Extreme Ancient God, it was time to personally explore this mysterious and dreadful place.

Without hesitation, Owen stepped forward.

Before him, the void twisted sharply, forming a swirling vortex of pure darkness.

His figure was immediately swallowed by the vortex, vanishing from the divine statue he had previously inhabited.

Upon entering the vortex, it felt as though he was descending into a bottomless black abyss.

Within the abyss, there was neither sound nor light.

It was an endless darkness, reminiscent of the universe before its creation — a place where even time and space seemed to lose all meaning.

Yet, under Owen’s careful observation, deep in the continuously sinking void, countless runes shimmered faintly.

These runes resembled invisible hands, reaching out to grab wandering ghosts lost in the void, dragging them irresistibly toward the very bottom of the abyss.

Suspended in this abyssal darkness, Owen had no way of telling how far he was from the bottom.

All he could see was that, as more and more ghosts were pulled downward by those invisible runes, they began to converge into a vast, grey sea of souls.

At the same time, Owen noticed that the invisible hands seemed to possess a memory-erasing effect.

Initially, the ghosts still retained fragments of consciousness, struggling desperately to escape their fate.

But as time passed, their memories gradually faded, their eyes grew hollow, and they drifted forward like mindless husks.

Owen had seen this state before.

In the hell he had constructed within his domain, he could also perform similar feats—though on a much smaller scale compared to this true Dantean Hell.

"In my territory, devotees who refuse the mercy of becoming part of Hell or refuse to serve as ghosts must eventually be drawn to Dantean Hell,"

Owen murmured to himself.

Back when his devotees died, he had offered them two choices.

One: to have their memories wiped, becoming ghostly soldiers—if they could rise through merit, they might one day recover their memories.

Two: to enter reincarnation, bidding farewell to this life completely.

Many of his fallen devotees had chosen reincarnation.

Now it seemed likely that they had been drawn into this very place.

Even though the hell within his domain was but a miniature version, compared to this real, terrifying hell, the essence was fundamentally the same.

Suspended within the endless black abyss, Owen felt an odd sense of familiarity.

The second task of his godly growth journey had been assigned after he ascended to a 2-star Ancient God.

From what he understood of the system, this mission was supposed to be difficult—but if one’s foundation was solid enough, completing it was entirely possible.

In his case, not only was his foundation solid, he had also become a 2-star Extreme Ancient God!

Completing this mission should be more than achievable.

There should be no significant danger.

"Even though this is an entirely foreign environment, I can return to the divine statue at any time,"

Owen reassured himself.

Although the system’s missions carried inherent risks, they were fundamentally designed to aid in a god’s growth.

Thus, if things truly became dangerous, he could always retreat.

Feeling increasingly composed, Owen’s pupils suddenly contracted slightly as his gaze sharpened.

Beneath him, a scene was slowly coming into view.

Down below lay a sprawling, broken cluster of palatial structures, as if they had endured the relentless erosion of endless eras.

Many buildings were on the verge of collapse, giving off a deep sense of desolation.

The Wraith Tribunal.

The First Layer of Dantean Hell.

This was where unbaptized infants, heretics, and those whose faith could not be clearly judged were all gathered.

Seeing this scene, Owen’s breathing slowed noticeably.

Then, he drifted down and lightly landed amid the shattered palace complex.

The moment he touched down, he noticed something even more harrowing—

Countless Dark Gods were crucified against the ruined buildings.

Their bodies were badly weathered, with broken limbs and eroded torsos.

From the moaning wind, endless wails of anguish and repentance drifted forth, chilling Owen to the bone.

It was as if the Dark Gods were eternally suffering the consequences of the sins they had committed in life.

Merely standing among these broken palaces, Owen felt his soul tremble, and reality itself seemed to distort and blur.

These palaces, though battered and ruined, had once been strong enough to imprison mighty demon gods.

The sheer strength required to achieve such feats was staggering.

Owen dared not act carelessly here.

This place was likely far more dangerous than anything he had encountered even in the real material planes.

Moving carefully, Owen followed the broken paths threading between the ruined structures, making his way toward the center of the First Layer.

He traveled quickly, passing countless wrecked halls, fallen statues, and shattered Hellish Artifacts littered across the ground.

This place bore the scars of an apocalyptic battle—

Even the hardened structures of hell itself had suffered severe damage.

Among the rubble, Owen could sense the remnants of four distinct, horrifying auras.

Though they were faint, their mere presence made his skin crawl.

Whatever beings had left those traces behind must have been catastrophically powerful—monstrous beyond imagination.

Yet, now they were mysteriously gone.

Owen narrowed his eyes.

Even with his current combat prowess, he still sensed a profound danger from those four lingering presences.

It was a clear sign that he was still too weak to contend with beings of that caliber.

"When my strength increases in the future,"

Owen thought,

"perhaps the truths hidden here will naturally come to light."

For now, there was no point in pushing too hard.

Resolving himself, Owen pressed onward, heading toward the massive gate that stood at the very heart of the ruins.

Before him rose a titanic black city wall, shaped like a colossal mountain range forming a perfect circle.

Just standing before it, Owen felt a deep sense of insignificance welling up within him.

The gigantic wall, connecting heaven and earth, loomed overhead.

Its huge black stone gate stood wide open, seemingly welcoming all ghosts wandering nearby.

Raising his head, Owen looked up at the ancient characters carved atop the gate:

Wraith City.

The three words exuded a soul-shuddering aura.

Aside from the oppressive pressure emanating from the writing itself, Owen didn’t sense any immediate danger.

Arriving here meant he had successfully penetrated to the First Layer of Dantean Hell.

The journey had been surprisingly smooth, almost too smooth.

"Maybe it’s just because I’ve been overly cautious all this time.

This mission might not be as dangerous as I initially feared."

Owen shook his head lightly and stepped toward the center of Wraith City.

Yet just as he approached the gate—

Two towering skeletal giants, assembled entirely from the bones of ancient beings, suddenly stirred.

They lowered their massive skulls to glare down at Owen and spoke in a deep, cold voice:

"This is not a place for you!"

The moment their killing intent-filled voices rang out, the two skeletal guards raised their colossal axes.

Each axe was several times larger than an ordinary house.

The silver blades cut through the void with deafening screeches, both speed and power reaching the level of a 2-star Ancient God!

"If I can’t withstand their attack,"

Owen realized,

"I won’t be able to enter Wraith City.

I’ll have to seek another opportunity elsewhere."

He wasn’t surprised.

After all, he was neither a ghost nor a native of Dantean Hell—it was only natural for the guardians to attack him.

Since they had made the first move, Owen saw no need to hold back.

In an instant, his body erupted with blinding golden light—

The Divine Vessel of a 2-star Extreme Ancient God activated at full power.

Without hesitation, Owen threw a punch toward the two falling axes.

Boom!

The moment his fist collided with the axes, the supposedly indestructible weapons instantly disintegrated into dust.

The two skeletal giants, too, were blasted into nothingness by the shockwave of his blow.

Having dealt with the guards, Owen strode boldly into Wraith City.

As he passed through the gates, a startling sight immediately greeted him—

A blood-red leaderboard floated into view, constructed entirely from a towering heap of skulls.

At the top of the leaderboard, three ominous words were emblazoned:

The Killing Leaderboard.

These characters radiated a heavy, oppressive aura, carrying with them the illusion of mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.

Owen remained highly vigilant.

Any leaderboard appearing within Wraith City was bound to be extraordinary.

Without delay, he turned his attention to the rankings displayed.

Anyone who could carve their name into the Killing Leaderboard of Dantean Hell had to be an important figure—

A ruthless monster or a being of immense significance.

Now that he had the chance, Owen was determined to learn all he could.