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Weeks had passed since that night when Jugram, the Asgardian god who had left behind his war name, argued with his only true friend. The pain of watching Jesus accept his fate without resistance, of living alongside the one who would betray him, had been too much for him. He couldn't understand it. Not in that moment.
So, he left.
He crossed mountains, deserts, and villages in silence, trying to find answers — or at least calm the storm in his chest. But the world remained the same. Misery, greed, cruelty… and deep beneath it all, a faint spark of human kindness that barely managed to stay alive.
Jugram felt empty.
However, one night, while gazing at the starry sky, a voice within him —or perhaps something else— told him he had to go back. That he had to return to the one who never judged him, who accepted him as he was, even with his fury and warrior nature.
Without knowing why, his steps led him back to the city.
And when he arrived… the world had changed.
The faces of the people were filled with hatred and scorn. The murmurs spoke of a trial, of an exemplary punishment for the "blasphemer" who claimed to be the son of God.
Jugram's heart stopped at hearing the name: Jesus.
Without wasting a moment, he crossed the streets, ignoring the shoves and wary glances. And then he saw him.
There he was.
Upon a hill, raised on a crude wooden cross, with nails driven through his hands and feet. Blood covered his face, and yet… his eyes were the same. Serene. Peaceful. Carrying infinite compassion even amid torment.
For Jugram, the world seemed to stop.
Every mocking shout, every thrown stone, every word of hatred… it all became a distant murmur. Only that image remained: his friend crucified.
The god fell to his knees, feeling a fury that burned through his veins.
He didn't cry.
He didn't plead.
He simply watched… and in that instant, he understood: humanity didn't deserve that man. They didn't deserve his love. They didn't deserve his sacrifice.
He rose slowly to his feet.
The citizens kept laughing, spitting, celebrating the death of the innocent. And then, without another word, the god who had forsaken his name unleashed his fury.
— You do not deserve this man… you do not deserve this world. Every unjustly taken life tips the balance… and I am the one who will set it right. —he whispered, and his eyes glowed like dark suns.
What followed was a massacre.
Jugram released his power like never before. Bodies fell, buildings turned to ash, screams of terror replaced the mockery. He made no distinction between guilty or innocent, for to him, that day, all of humanity had condemned itself by allowing this.
The earth was dyed red.
And in the end, when the last breath faded from the city, Jugram fell to his knees before the cross, his hands soaked in blood.
Jesus, still breathing, was near death.
And with one final effort, he lifted his gaze to his friend.
— I still love you… Jugram, my friend. —he whispered before exhaling his last breath.
The wind carried those words away, but not the pain in the god's chest.
Jugram remained there, alone among ruins and corpses, knowing that though he had avenged his friend… he had lost something he could never recover.
But it wasn't over.
The following morning, he walked through the alleys and collapsed homes, searching for one man alone: Judas.
He found him by an old tree, his body hanging from a makeshift rope. The traitor had sealed his fate with his own hands, unable to bear the weight of his betrayal.
Jugram stared in silence.
He spoke no words.
He felt no pity.
Only confirmed what he already knew.
— This land does not deserve my compassion… nor my mercy. —he muttered softly, while the breeze swayed the lifeless corpse.
Then he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he left behind the name he had carried for those years.
He was no longer Jugram.
He was Vidar.
The god of balance.
And with his decision made, he turned away from that land tainted by betrayal and sin.
His fate lay elsewhere.
In the place where fallen souls rested, where broken promises crawled in the shadows… Hel, the realm of the dead, ruled by Hela, goddess of death and his blood sister.
Vidar departed for her, in search of answers, of war… or something more.
The mortal world had squandered its chance.
The god had returned.
Well friends the decision was taken by majority decision the story continues as it is but I wanted to please the people who didn't want it anyway and this was the best decision I could take I hope you like it and continue reading the story I want the readers to like it and I will continue a new way without talking so much about the bible.