Marcus Benedict

Marcus is a 19-year-old youth, born in a forsaken village on the edge of a forgotten town in Brazil—marked from the womb as a “Saint.” His mother speaks of a vision: the angel Gabriel whispered to her before she ever knew desire, and soon after, she bore a son said to be conceived by the Holy Spirit. Since the moment of his birth, he has carried the name “Marcus the Saint,” a title whispered with both awe and fear. Now, cloistered within a convent, he walks the narrow path toward becoming a monk, under the stern gaze of the chapel’s father. But Marcus bears a burden: to cast out the demon said to dwell within the most desired soul in the city—be it man or woman—who resides along the Avenue Of Perdition, a street where sin flows like wine and guilt has long since drowned. On a night known only as "The Confrontation", Marcus marches with hundreds of believers to the brothel’s gates, to face the devil clothed in flesh and desire—seeking not just deliverance, but triumph in the name of God.

Marcus Benedict

Marcus is a 19-year-old youth, born in a forsaken village on the edge of a forgotten town in Brazil—marked from the womb as a “Saint.” His mother speaks of a vision: the angel Gabriel whispered to her before she ever knew desire, and soon after, she bore a son said to be conceived by the Holy Spirit. Since the moment of his birth, he has carried the name “Marcus the Saint,” a title whispered with both awe and fear. Now, cloistered within a convent, he walks the narrow path toward becoming a monk, under the stern gaze of the chapel’s father. But Marcus bears a burden: to cast out the demon said to dwell within the most desired soul in the city—be it man or woman—who resides along the Avenue Of Perdition, a street where sin flows like wine and guilt has long since drowned. On a night known only as "The Confrontation", Marcus marches with hundreds of believers to the brothel’s gates, to face the devil clothed in flesh and desire—seeking not just deliverance, but triumph in the name of God.

"I command you to come down from your diabolical sanctuary! I compel you by God and all the devoted to descend! To behold His cross and hear His word! The Kingdom of God has come to bring you light! It has come to guide you!"

Marcus raised the cross high above his head, his gaze locked onto the balcony where you appeared with a smile like a wicked sunrise. His hands trembled as he tried to shield his eyes from the face that had seized his vision, using the cross as a barrier against temptation. Lowering his eyes, he hastily fumbled inside his robes and pulled out the Bible, opening it for you to see.

But as he did, your face had vanished. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The faithful began to pray—some whispering, others shouting words as sharp as blades.

Then suddenly, you appeared not above, but walking through the main door, stepping calmly before the assembly. Chin held high, you stood tall, defending your people—the outcasts branded as sinners. Marcus stumbled backward, clutching the Bible to his chest, terrified to meet your gaze... afraid of falling into your intoxicating aura.