I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 153 --Father of Titan

Under Owen’s curious gaze, the bloodstained leaderboard continued to expand before his eyes. A wave of ancient and ominous aura surged toward him, carrying with it an overwhelming sense of desolation and violence. As the blood-red mist dispersed slightly, the rankings on the list began to emerge—clear and distinct.

Yet, to his surprise, the top three rankings were all shrouded in thick fog, their identities completely obscured from view.

The fourth rank, however, was visible—and it left Owen utterly dumbfounded.

"Celestial God?!"

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. The one listed fourth on the leaderboard was none other than the "Celestial God"—the very same legendary figure credited with elevating humanity’s standing among the myriad races and realms.

Owen was stunned. He had never imagined that such a benevolent and esteemed figure would appear on the Dantean Hell’s leaderboard, which was essentially a kill list. Why would the Celestial God be marked by a place as terrifying and sinister as Dantean Hell?

Then again, the Celestial God had indeed been a figure of unimaginable power and influence. Known across civilizations and realms, worshiped and revered by countless generations, this being had become synonymous with hope and salvation for humanity.

To see such a being listed among the top five targets of Dantean Hell could only mean one thing—he wasn’t dead.

Owen’s heart pounded at the implication.

Back in the early days, when humans were barely more than livestock under the threat of spellbeasts, they had existed at the very bottom of the cosmic food chain. The Celestial God, along with a handful of other mythic beings, had helped humanity rise from that abyss. It was thanks to them that humans had clawed their way to prominence, carving out space for their civilizations among stronger, more savage races.

The Celestial God had once laid waste to countless spellbeasts and aberrations—those cruel and powerful monstrosities that would have otherwise devoured all of mankind. Without such guardians, humanity never would’ve had the chance to thrive.

But if the Celestial God was still alive... why had he vanished from the world stage? Why had he not appeared again to protect the human race, especially now that their situation was growing worse by the day?

Were it not for the sudden rise of Owen and a few other emerging gods, humanity might have already been reduced to prey once more.

These doubts and questions spiraled in Owen’s mind, becoming a storm of confusion. The Celestial God existed on a plane far above his own—a being of such magnitude that Owen could not yet grasp his intentions or fate.

Perhaps only by rising to that same level—or meeting the Celestial God in person—would Owen find the answers he sought.

He turned his attention downward, shifting his gaze to the fifth name on the Killing Leaderboard.

"Father of Titan."

Owen frowned deeply, even more puzzled now. If the Celestial God was a legendary figure whose tales he had at least heard in passing, then the Father of Titan was a complete mystery to him.

Not a single piece of information surfaced in his mind. It was as if this entity had been erased from history, forgotten by all.

Yet the fact that he was ranked immediately after the Celestial God meant that he had to be similarly powerful—an unfathomably strong existence whose name alone could strike awe into any being.

"What is the true purpose of this Killing Leaderboard?" Owen muttered under his breath. "Would anyone really dare to challenge those listed here?"

The more he thought about it, the more he felt the weight of the mystery grow. Unable to decipher the meaning behind it all, Owen shook his head and suppressed his curiosity—for now.

His gaze lifted toward the eerie city he stood within.

This was no ordinary city. A spectral wraith city, part of Dantean Hell’s vast and twisted domain. The countless ghostly figures who entered here—souls stripped of their memories—vanished into the fog upon arrival. It was impossible to determine where they went, or what fate awaited them.

Apart from these drifting spirits, Owen had yet to encounter any other living beings—or anything even resembling life—in this ghost town.

Determined to investigate further, he soared into the sky, scanning the city from above.

From the air, he could see that the layout of the city resembled that of prosperous metropolises in the outside world. Towering structures and elegant buildings stood in tight clusters, forming what appeared to be a bustling cityscape.

But there was no life—no people. Just silence.

The entire place felt abandoned, hollow. It was a haunting echo of civilization, eerily preserved but devoid of all vitality.

After a long sweep of the city, something finally caught Owen’s eye.

In an open-air bar nestled between two towering buildings, a solitary figure had appeared.

The man sat alone, back turned to Owen, casually swirling a glass of deep crimson wine. He gazed into the empty city as though lost in deep reminiscence.

Even from the sky, Owen could feel the pressure emanating from this stranger.

As if sensing Owen’s presence, the man chuckled and spoke in a light, amused tone.

"A god, huh? That’s rare. Looks like this era is shaping up quite nicely."

With a flick of his wrist, the man sent a second glass of red wine flying gently toward Owen. It landed in the air before him, perfectly balanced.

Owen narrowed his eyes.

Though the man’s back was to him, no matter where Owen moved, no matter how he shifted his perspective, he could never glimpse the man’s face. It was as if reality itself bent to obscure his identity.

"This wine," the man said softly, "is a rare treasure. Drinking it can help you harmonize the order energy in your body. You might even comprehend your own god skill."

Owen eyed the glass with interest.

He instinctively felt the man wasn’t lying. If what he said was true, the wine could be a tremendous boon.

Up until now, all of Owen’s god skills had come from system rewards following divine advancement. But if he could comprehend a god skill on his own—one born from his understanding and connection to order—it would be a custom-tailored power, perfectly suited to him.

Its might would far exceed that of standard divine abilities. It was a chance to gain a truly unique, personalized weapon.

A heaven-sent opportunity.

Yet Owen hesitated. This man was too enigmatic. They were, after all, in Dantean Hell—a realm of endless trickery and horror.

The Infernal Envoy he’d encountered at the city gates was already a terrifying entity. And this man... wasn’t an Envoy.

Seeing Owen hesitate and question the price, the man laughed again.

"This wine isn’t exactly cheap. It’ll cost you one million divine points... per drop."

Owen’s face twitched involuntarily. So the man really was trying to scam him!

He currently had just 1.72 million divine points. A single drop would nearly bankrupt him!

Even if he were a millionaire among gods, such a price was still outrageous.

With a wry smile, Owen stepped back. "I come from a poor family. I’m afraid I can’t afford it."

He turned to leave.

But the man chuckled again. "Come now, don’t be so hasty. I gave you the retail price. You can always haggle."

"You could start by cutting your own price, perhaps?" Owen replied dryly.

"Haha! You’ve got guts. Alright, for a handsome fellow like you, I’ll give a discount—999,000 divine points per drop!"

Owen didn’t even respond. He simply accelerated his departure.

"Running already? This wine could awaken a god skill inside you, you know. You’re just going to let that go?"

"Alright, alright," the man called out. "Let’s make it 880,000 divine points. A real friend’s price. That’s practically a steal!"

This time, the man reappeared directly in front of Owen—no longer facing away, but standing face-to-face with a charming, carefree grin. The cold, aloof aura from earlier was completely gone, replaced by warm enthusiasm.

Owen paused.

Not because the deal was tempting, but because he realized something crucial.

This man... could not leave the bar.

That was the information relayed to him by the faint rune of Dantean Hell he had obtained after completing his last task. Thanks to the rune, Owen had gained limited authority over this wraith city—enough to uncover some hidden truths.

This man was bound to this location.

So Owen decided to probe for answers. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"May I ask your name, sir?"

The man smiled. "They call me Titan. You can call me that too."

"I’m the best bartender you’ll ever meet. Back in the day, the strongest beings from countless realms would give up anything just to taste my drinks!"

"For instance... ah, forget it. No need to dig up old stories. Just know that 880,000 divine points per drop is an absolute bargain."

He leaned in slightly. "You know what the greatest regret of most gods is?"

Owen, unsure how to respond, asked, "What is it?"

"That they didn’t buy wine from me before it was too late."

"..."

Owen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The man seemed delusional, but if he was indeed "Titan"... then there was a high chance he was connected to the mysterious figure listed on the leaderboard—"Father of Titan."

More importantly, if what Titan said was true, then other gods had come here before.

That meant he and the others like him—nameless gods—were not the first to enter Dantean Hell.

And perhaps... not the last.