Circa 30 CE – Judea, Israel
Marcus had visited Judea before—but this time, he came knowing what history would call this place. He arrived in the days of Jesus of Nazareth, and the gacha system pulsed quietly in his soul as if responding to something enormous.
He avoided the cities at first, walking among farmers, shepherds, and carpenters. His name became a whisper: "Mal'ach", the angel who repaired broken tools with a touch and told stories that felt like dreams.
One night, in a quiet grove of olive trees, he met Jesus.
"I've heard of you," Jesus said with a small smile.
"And I've heard of you," Marcus replied. "But stories tend to get dramatic. You don't really turn water into wine, do you?"
Jesus laughed—a soft, human sound.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Just someone who's seen too many years and not enough happy endings."
They spoke for hours—about kindness, sacrifice, the weight of being different. Marcus didn't try to change anything. He couldn't. Some moments in history felt… untouchable. Sacred.
But when Roman soldiers came for Jesus later, Marcus stood quietly in the background, unseen. He could have stopped it—but didn't.
He wept that day.
And when the resurrection stories began, Marcus knew some believed he was the angel at the tomb.
"Let them think what they want," he whispered to the wind. "Truth always gets edited."