There was a man, granted blessings by the gods. He had the strength of a hundred men and unrivalled wit, but most of all, he could not die. He protected his family and helped them in every way he could. Others started realising this, and they began asking for favours. He complied and quickly made a name for himself, singlehandedly running his entire village. Neighbouring towns and cities heard of him and his fame spread, soon there were people coming to him from far away lands. This man had made it his mission to make the world a better place and he had certainly done his very most to achieve this task.
This continued for years, until one of his closest friends passed away. Through his mourning he had a dreadful and sudden realisation, he hadn't spent enough time with those whom he loved. He had gotten lost in the masses and forgotten his own people, which made him turn away from strangers and return to his family. He Started helping less and less people, whomever he deemed worthy. He saw more and more people only wanting his favours and not caring about him for his sake. He felt that his blessings had become a curse, so he stopped. He stopped helping anyone, even his own family. They became furious, for it was his duty to share these blessings from the gods. Constant fighting over the matter made him bitter. Years passed and everyone he knew had been gone for a long time now. He lived on a hill, far enough from civilization for no one to bother him.
Years of isolation made him strange to the modern folk. They told stories of an evil man who lived deep in the forest, mothers warned their kids about his home and everyone stayed clear of him. Whenever he visited civilization, he was met with worried looks and disgust. He visited less and less frequently and the town began to change. There were more people roaming the streets than ever before, new communities and buildings. The entire city and its inhabitants became unrecognizable to him. One day a child came to him and showed him true innocent decency. This was something he hadn't experienced in longer than he could remember and it opened something in him, giving him hope for humanity. He returned to the city with this newfound love, but was met with pure hatred.
His love and hope continued to shine through his interactions, he did more for the peoples of this city than they could've ever hoped for and yet, he felt no reciprocity from them, they simply continued to hate him for he was strange to them. They gave him no chance and it made him furious. He remembered how horrible people can be and lost the will to help them once again, but this time he was absolutely furious, he was filled with zeal. He lashed out and hurt another person, which he'd never done before, breaking his oath of good will. They tried to fight back but stood no chance. The entire law enforcement force of his city was no match for him, so he did as he pleased and took what he wanted.
He began killing for sport and taking women for himself, anything he could think of. The nation's ruler soon found out and sent an army to fight him, but they couldn't even touch him. they were ants to him, the anteater. This gave him the idea to overthrow the king, and so he did. He took the throne and by force made the nation serve him. This nation of his became a superpower, conquering neighbouring kingdoms left and right. He made the entire world his playground and its peoples his servants. He was unstoppable and anyone who rebelled against him was evaporated. The world lived in fear but soon got used to it, people made do. His rule lasted decades, centuries, millennia, and there was no end in sight. Until once again, he saw a child who treated him well sincerely and not out of fear.
This child looked remarkably similar to the one who had brought him back to civilization in the first place. The child who had given him hope in a better future, and look at what he'd done. His mind was filled with memories, memories that conflicted with his current state. He thought back all the way to when he did his all for others rather than for himself. He remembered his oath to serve and looked at the world, serving him. He realized what he had done, he realized that he had become an evil dictator. The gods hadn't blessed him for this. He was the chosen one, and he betrayed them. His heart was filled with sorrow, and he knew something had to be done, he knew no outside force could stop him, and he couldn't be trusted to do it himself. He couldn't handle the responsibility handed to him with his gifts, he was a curse to mankind, one that only he could control, and yet even he had failed. He knew what he must do, it was the only way.
He exiled himself and never returned. He became half-man, half-animal and roamed the lands aimlessly. After eons of this pointless life, he began to wish for an end. He grew tired of hunting and eating, drinking and breathing. he grew tired of living. Though he wished for death, he was unable to die. He became physically inactive, and he was trapped in his body, unable to move. Full of pain and sorrow, his mind began to deteriorate too, so eventually, he stopped thinking.
He lives on to this very day, in a far away land. Perhaps he'll awaken some day, but as it stands he's merely a statue, a souvenir of the gods.