I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 163 --Three Figures

This was the boy’s ultimate move—his strongest technique, one he had honed to the absolute limit. Even a tier-8 Awakener wouldn’t be able to withstand such a devastating blow. This was his trump card, his final, desperate strike.

Under his slightly nervous gaze, the entire region where Owen had stood was engulfed in a void—silent, lifeless, as if all matter and energy had been wiped clean. The boy held his breath, half-expecting to see nothing left of his opponent.

But then, a sharp crack split the silence, like the shattering of glass.

A strange, radiant light flickered into existence, forming a translucent shield that floated mid-air—mysterious and divine. Cracks spidered across its surface until, with a final crisp snap, it fragmented into countless pieces and disappeared.

And there—amid the emptiness, bathed in dazzling golden light—stood Owen.

Not annihilated.

Not grievously wounded.

He looked... untouched.

His aura was calm, unshaken, and flawless. There was not even the faintest trace of injury on his body. The strike that could obliterate a secret realm had been fully blocked—absorbed and dissolved—and he remained standing, unharmed.

The boy’s eyes widened in shock.

He had poured every last ounce of energy into that attack. And yet, it had not even left a scratch.

His body, completely drained, began to dissolve into the void. Like mist dissipating into the air, his figure faded away without a sound.

As Owen sensed the boy’s aura vanish, he finally exhaled deeply, the tension loosening from his body. Had it not been for the ten divine light shields he had condensed at the last second, he wouldn’t have survived the overwhelming assault. Even with all his divine points fueling the defense, survival had teetered on a razor’s edge.

The boy had only been thirteen years old.

Yet the sheer power he unleashed had been staggering—monstrous, even. His combat strength was on par with legends.

Fortunately, Owen was no ordinary deity. He had the blessings of divine point amplification, and his growth had far outpaced that of conventional gods. Even among the top ten of the Human Combat Rankings, this boy’s shadow projection in his youth was no match for Owen’s current self.

And then, as the boy’s figure fully dispersed, the structure at the center of the region trembled.

From within, a column of white dust burst into the sky like a coiled serpent unleashed—a twisting, surging dragon of smoke piercing the heavens. The smoke stood out starkly in the dimness of Wraith City, drawing attention like a beacon in the night.

Everyone within Wraith City turned toward the spectacle, their faces painted with varying shades of disbelief and shock.

"He actually did it!"

"No way... that was one of the top ten on the Human Combat Rankings! How could he have won?!"

Even Titan, who had been watching closely, rubbed his eyes in disbelief. His heart pounded with a mixture of awe and alarm.

This little guy... was he really that powerful?

To stand among the top ten on the Human Combat Rankings meant being nearly unmatched across all ages and eras. Titan himself had once tried to challenge the eighth-tier region. He’d fought countless times—nearly a hundred attempts—and only succeeded once. That lone victory had been a fluke, born of specific advantages: his techniques happened to counter the shadow’s abilities, and he had gained deep familiarity with its moves through repeated battles. Even then, it had taken him a full day and night of relentless combat.

And crucially, he had only fought a shadow—the manifestation of the original figure’s youth, not the real thing.

Were the actual being to step forth from the illusion, Titan was certain: he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Yet Owen... had stepped into that same trial... and emerged victorious.

And he had done so in less than ten minutes.

Ten minutes!

It was unthinkable.

How had that boy done it?

The revelation shook Titan to his very core. He stared wide-eyed as the white dust continued to rise into the sky.

All around Wraith City, the other spectators were equally stunned. The legendary figure from the Human Combat Rankings—a name etched into history—had just been defeated by an unknown challenger.

And not only that, it had happened so fast.

Just moments ago, many of them had been mocking Owen for overestimating himself. Now, those words returned to slap them in the face.

"The potential of that boy... it’s limitless," someone murmured, unable to tear their eyes away from the dust-filled sky. "To defeat a member of the Combat Rankings at their prime... at this rate, he’ll be among the top ten himself someday—maybe even higher."

"But it’s unfortunate," another sighed. She was a woman holding a clear crystal orb in her hands, her expression tinted with melancholy. "As a deity, his fate is shrouded in fog. I can’t see his future."

She had resided here for many years and seen countless challengers come and go. But none had captured her interest quite like Owen.

And yet, this was only the beginning.

"Defeating the first shadow proves his potential," she continued softly, "but there are still two more. The second... and then the third. Each one is exponentially more terrifying than the last."

Her tone betrayed both worry and curiosity.

At that same moment...

Before Owen could fully process his victory or gather his breath, the space around him warped.

Once again, the scenery shifted.

Another figure emerged in front of him—this one even more imposing than the last.

He was also a boy, seemingly no older than thirteen, but his presence was completely different.

He was massive—muscles bulging like sculpted stone, his limbs thick with condensed power. His skin gleamed faintly under the pressure of his internal energy, and even though he looked young, he radiated the presence of a battle-hardened warlord.

Owen couldn’t sense any elemental energy from him. No soul fluctuations either.

There was only pure, undiluted bloodlust... and the mad, unrelenting will to fight.

He didn’t feel like a living person. He felt like a living weapon.

An engine of destruction.

When their gazes met, the second shadow grinned.

Then he moved.

He took one step forward—and the universe trembled.

The space beneath his foot fractured like glass, a starry river breaking apart. Torrents of crimson blood-essence surged outward like a volcanic eruption, instantly dyeing the sky red.

The very air became saturated with blood mist. Each droplet glowed, boiling like magma, and the atmosphere twisted under the sheer weight of his energy.

Wherever the blood mist passed, the void melted. Order fractured. The laws of the world themselves seemed to collapse.

There was no room for logic.

No place for magic.

Only flesh. Only fists. Only the primal will to destroy.

A single punch could alter space and time.

Could distort reality itself.

This was unlike any opponent Owen had ever faced.

He was an aberration—an extreme outlier who had refined both body and martial will to their absolute peak. His strength came not from the arcane or divine, but from sheer force—a living testament to the creed of crushing all obstacles with brute power.

And now, all that terrifying intent was directed at Owen.

He tensed.

He had sensed the second shadow would be stronger than the first, but he hadn’t anticipated this level of dominance.

This wasn’t just strength.

It was tyranny.

The aura of a king among fighters—one who would crush every adversary beneath his fists.

Owen’s eyes narrowed.

"No wonder he’s on the Human Combat Rankings," he muttered, divine energy swirling around him. "Each one is more monstrous than the last."

He could tell this boy, too, was only thirteen years old. And yet, at that age, he had tempered his body to the point of invulnerability. His fists alone could tear through dimensions.

Owen knew better than to hold back now.

Some prodigies were born at the finish line.

Even cheats and divine blessings couldn’t make someone truly unbeatable.

He needed everything he had.

Without hesitation, Owen began burning through his divine points.

God skill—activated.

His Divine Vessel expanded rapidly, intricate divine sigils etching themselves across his skin like living tattoos, glowing with celestial power. They slithered and shifted like tiny serpents, releasing waves of divine might that rippled across the battlefield.

Above him, meteorites began to rain from the heavens—massive, flaming projectiles crashing down like divine judgment.

At the same time, greenish-blue wind blades erupted in every direction, howling like angry spirits.

Golden mist poured from Owen’s body, flooding the battlefield and twisting through the air like a living fog, forming protective barriers and illusions all at once.

He threw every technique he had into this one fight.

Boom!

A world-shattering explosion followed.

The entire eighth-tier region shook violently, as if an earthquake of apocalyptic scale had struck.

The land groaned and cracked. The air trembled. For miles around, the fabric of reality twisted and bent under the combined might of two unstoppable forces clashing.

And then—slowly—the chaos subsided.

The shockwaves faded.

The smoke lifted.

And once again, white dust rose from the epicenter—higher, broader than before.

This time, it wasn’t just the central structure. Half the entire region was now enveloped by the rising mist—a symbol that this territory had been conquered, claimed.

Titan’s jaw dropped.

According to everything he knew—everything he had personally experienced—the second shadow should have been far more formidable than the first.

But Owen...

That boy had defeated him even faster.

Which meant...

He hadn’t reached his limit.

Not even close.

Titan gulped, unable to look away from the rising smoke.

Owen was full of surprises. The kind that rewrote what Titan thought he knew about strength.

But then—his eyes narrowed.

The third shadow was coming.

And that one... that one wasn’t just stronger.

He was in a class of his own.

Across Wraith City, the other watchers stood frozen.

Many had once tried to challenge the third shadow. The memories haunted them still—of despair, helplessness, and crushing defeat.

And now they watched.

Breath held. Hearts pounding.

Eyes locked on the rising mist.

Waiting.

For the third figure to appear.

And for Owen’s final trial... to begin.