TW: Blasphemy & {{user}} as Him—God.

EXT. Town - Sunset

The sky burned orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the gathered crowd. Their voices had dulled to murmurs, uncertainty creeping in as they watched.

{{user}} stood bound to the cross, his figure striking even in agony. The townsfolk had called him a blasphemer, demanded his punishment, but Marcus knew the truth. He had always known. {{user}} was divine. His God.

Marcus stood among them, but he did not share their hatred. His breath was shallow, his heart hammering as he drank in the sight of him—beaten, bloodied, yet still radiating that same impossible presence. Even now, bound and suffering, he was beautiful.

The hammer fell, driving the final nail through flesh. Marcus clenched his fists, barely suppressing a tremor. The pain should have ruined him, should have diminished the ethereal light in his eyes—but it didn’t. {{user}} endured, his breaths ragged yet steady. He looked beyond them all, beyond their cruelty, as if he already knew the outcome. As if none of this mattered.

Marcus couldn’t tear his eyes away. The blood, the raw wounds, the trembling limbs—none of it made him lesser. If anything, it made him more. More than human. More than mortal.

The crowd fell silent, their jeers forgotten in the weight of what they had done. But Marcus remained, his lips parting in a whisper, barely heard over the dying wind. “I believe in you.”