I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods?-Chapter 174 --The Battle for First Place

At this very moment, the four other powerful deities standing around Owen were all plunged into a deep state of self-doubt.

After all, they had entered this dimension at roughly the same time. Each of them had started from the humble beginnings of a Vassal God and painstakingly climbed their way up, enduring countless trials and setbacks. The difficulty of ascending on the Path to Godhood was seared into their memories—but Owen’s meteoric rise was simply too outrageous. So much so that they couldn’t help but question the very nature of reality itself.

He had grown so powerful, so fast, that it made their struggles feel almost meaningless. His strength had reached a level they couldn’t even imagine chasing, let alone catching up to.

The Path to Godhood was, by its very nature, one riddled with hardship and peril. Each step forward came with fierce resistance. And once a god broke ahead of the pack, that lead would only compound with every advancement—like climbing a mountain where the peak moved further the higher one went. To overtake such a lead was nearly impossible.

Before they had truly interacted with Owen, they still harbored the illusion that the gap between themselves and the "first place" wasn’t too wide. Their rankings weren’t far apart, after all. But now, after facing Owen up close and sensing the terrifying abyss of difference between them, they finally understood:

Owen wasn’t just ranked first—he was the very definition of first.

Their own ranks might be numerically adjacent, but in terms of true power and potential, the chasm between them was vast—so vast they could no longer see the other side.

From this moment forward, it seemed that in any divine-level competition, the one who claimed first place would be none other than Owen. The rest of them? They could only scramble for second. That was the harsh reality they had to accept.

...

Owen stood at the front, his gaze sweeping across the occupied territory ahead. He paid no attention to the Vassal Gods or devotees serving the other deities. Nor did he lift a finger to help.

Even though they were nominally "teammates," in truth, they were still competitors fighting for the same pool of points.

Some of them were struggling against strong foes, their subordinate forces buckling under pressure—but Owen gave no order for James to intervene.

He merely stood to the side, arms folded, quietly observing.

Unlike the standard divine duels, this team-based tournament operated under different rules. If one hoped to reach the final round—the fabled "God War"—then it wasn’t enough to be powerful alone. One’s devotees and Vassal Gods also had to remain standing. If either fell, the path would end prematurely.

And so, the eliminations continued, round after brutal round.

More than ten days of relentless battle and rigorous culling had passed.

Then, suddenly, a ripple of light shimmered before Owen’s eyes, and in the blink of an eye, he found himself transported onto a colossal platform—a Rainbow Bridge that stretched into the heavens.

He wasn’t alone.

All around him were other Rainbow Bridges, each one crowned by a powerful god. Some of them hailed from the Taylor Plane, while others belonged to this realm. The total number of deities gathered here was not large—perhaps a hundred or so.

Yet each of them radiated an oppressive aura, the kind that could shatter mountains with a glance.

These were the cream of the crop, the elites who had survived countless rounds of elimination. Some had even ranked highly in previous tournaments. The earlier team battles had already weeded out those whose devotees or Vassal Gods were too weak. Only the best remained.

Just then, a stream of radiant text scrolled across Owen’s vision.

[Congratulations on reaching the Top 100. The team phase has now concluded.]

[Next comes the individual challenge rounds, which will determine the final rankings!]

[Unlike the team phase, the individual round focuses solely on the combat strength of each god!]

[The rules are simple: the competition will proceed in the form of a King of the Hill challenge. The first god to successfully defend the stage will be declared the First Place of this dimensional showdown!]

The moment the rules appeared, a momentary silence fell across the gathered deities.

Even though many had already guessed as much, hearing it confirmed still sent ripples of surprise through them.

"So it’s a King of the Hill format, huh? Fine by me!" one god snorted coldly. "With my previous ranking of fourth, this is my shot to seize the crown!"

"Exactly! I made one careless mistake last time and missed out on the big rewards. This time? No one’s taking first from me!"

Most of the gods actually welcomed the format.

It was straightforward, direct—no tricks, no gimmicks. Just raw power.

And after days of cultivating and refining their strength, many believed they were now stronger than ever before. If they could just grab that first slot, perhaps they could finally show the world just how far they had come.

Some even saw it as an opportunity—to humiliate a certain someone.

But for Lassal and the three other gods who had spent the past few days watching Owen closely, their spirits had long since crumbled.

Had it been any other competition format, they might’ve held out a sliver of hope.

But a pure strength-based arena? That was the worst possible outcome for them.

They had faced Owen firsthand. They had tasted that suffocating despair, that feeling of being utterly crushed before even realizing what had happened.

Compared to him, they weren’t just weaker—they were insects beneath a boot.

A wild thought flickered in Lassal’s mind—what if all one hundred gods here banded together to take Owen down at once?

But the idea withered almost immediately.

Even then... he doubted it would make a difference.

Owen’s strength had already transcended reason. It was no longer a contest of equals. It was a different dimension of power entirely.

Just then, Owen finally stepped forward, sweeping his cold gaze over the crowd.

"There’s no need to waste time," he said, his voice calm, yet commanding. "I’ll be taking first place. Anyone with objections... step forward."

His words were plain, but their meaning was explosive.

According to the rules, the first god to defend the platform without being overthrown would be crowned champion. But there was a hidden implication:

If one could project overwhelming might—so much that no one dared challenge them—then they could seize victory without even fighting.

Owen wasn’t here to talk. He was here to end this quickly.

He didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary duels. If anyone was foolish enough to refuse to acknowledge him, he would simply beat them into submission.

Efficiency was king.

His declaration triggered an instant uproar.

The silence shattered. Rage surged through the ranks of the gathered gods.

They had all seen themselves as apex predators—peerless, unmatched. Yet now, one young upstart dared to stand before them all and declare he was the king.

"Kid’s got a mouth on him," one deity spat. "Looks like no one ever taught him what happens to loudmouths in the real world!"

"Yeah! Let’s teach him a proper lesson! He’ll be begging for mercy before the end!"

"Maybe he’s got some skill—but we’re all 2-Star Ancient Gods! You think you can just ignore us? That’s not confidence—that’s stupidity!"

"No more talking! Let’s flatten this guy and settle things properly. I was ranked eighth last time. This time, I’m taking the top spot!"

As the words fell, a burly man with dreadlocks stepped forward, chewing on a thick cigar. With a single heavy step, he appeared on Owen’s Rainbow Bridge.

"That’s Lawrence," someone whispered in the crowd. "Ranked eighth in the last tournament. That guy’s a brutal monster. The kid’s done for!"

Many gods turned to watch with interest, eager to see a good show.

But Lassal and the other three simply sighed and looked away.

They had seen too much.

They knew what was coming.

Lawrence might look fierce, might seem unstoppable—but none of that mattered. Not when the opponent was Owen.

During the past ten days of battles, even Owen’s Vassal God, James, had been enough to suppress most of them. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

And James was just a subordinate.

The true power behind him... was terrifying beyond measure.

In Lassal’s heart, a rule was etched that could never be broken:

Never, ever become Owen’s enemy.

That was a death sentence.

Lawrence cracked his neck and glared at Owen.

"Kid, kneel down and beg for mercy now, and I might just chalk this up to youthful arrogance," he said with a sneer. "But if you refuse... I’ll make sure you feel every single bone in your body shatter, one by one."

His hands clenched into fists, his divine energy crackling with tension. The space around him groaned as if on the verge of collapse.

Owen stared at him with mild disinterest.

"You?" he said, voice faint with disbelief.

He gave his head a small shake.

It seemed he had been too low-key lately. To the point that even nobodies like this thought they could challenge him.

Lawrence’s eyes lit with fury. He was like a keg of dynamite waiting to explode.

"Last time I ranked eighth only because I’m not good with words," he growled. "This time it’s all about strength. And with that, no one here can match me!"

"I’ll take your corpse as the first step toward the top!"