From general to slave.
These days, I'm nothing more than a glorified pillar.
I remember the good old days, war and death was the way we lived. But now, nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Those early days were the best, golden blood everywhere and the corpses of these so-called gods beneath our feet. Bones broken as easily as these lower lifeforms they admire so much.
We lost and with it the Age of the Titans came to an end.
Pardon my ramblings, here I am going on like this all happened yesterday, but more than a 1000 years has passed. And in my new throne, I witness it all.
The Rise and Fall of Empires.
I believe he planned it like that. Carrying the world on my shoulders was not enough for him. I had to watch them go forth, where they were worshiped, into a new Era. Like they really were gods.
What absolute shit. These mortals may believe that they are something special, but the only thing that is truly different is the color of their blood.
"Come "king", remove my chains, remove these shackles and even after a millennium, I will still rip you apart."
Nothing? He knows. They know. They are nothing. Chained just like me, enslaved to their worshipers.
We never needed the prayers of mortals to make us stronger. We were strong on our own.
But I see more than they do. In their castles and with their feasts, they are blind. Not me. Not here where he left me chained.
Those apelike creatures that they love so much will be their end. Their growth is too fast. It was not that long ago when my brother gifted them with fire and look at them now, look at what they have created in their enlightenment. That is the one thing that we have in common, change is hard.
We can't envision it the same as the mortals. Living long lives means giving up on the creativity of the shorter-lived species. And we don't die. Unless, of course, we rip each other apart. But other than that, nothing will happen.
But after all this time there is change at Olympus. Worship and prayers gets them power and popularity and that's all they want. But they don't see the foley of such a system. A system that they created and enjoyed for eras.
Did they ever think what will happen when there is no prayers coming in? No, in his arrogance he will never believe for a moment that he won't be worshiped. That his prayers can dry up. Why would mortals ever stop worshiping the gods? Isn't it in their nature?
I saw the change. They grow too fast. And in this new world there is no place for the so-called gods. Just like my time has gone, so too will he be brought down by the creatures he milks for power.
I hate this place. With the world on my shoulders, I'm reduced to nothing and can do nothing. But I see what is happening. They are getting weaker. Weaker through the hole their king has left for them. The irony.
And so, I grow stronger. Come humans, change. Change with time. Change enough to worship yourselves. Change enough so that I can slip my chains. Then again there will be blood, that lightning won't be able to stop me this time.
You will join your masters, your gods. In pieces in the streets. In pieces in Olympus. The red and gold will mix on my hands and the hands of the denizens of Tartarus. We are coming. I am coming.
My name is Atlas.
These days, I'm nothing more than a glorified pillar.
I remember the good old days, war and death was the way we lived. But now, nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Those early days were the best, golden blood everywhere and the corpses of these so-called gods beneath our feet. Bones broken as easily as these lower lifeforms they admire so much.
We lost and with it the Age of the Titans came to an end.
Pardon my ramblings, here I am going on like this all happened yesterday, but more than a 1000 years has passed. And in my new throne, I witness it all.
The Rise and Fall of Empires.
I believe he planned it like that. Carrying the world on my shoulders was not enough for him. I had to watch them go forth, where they were worshiped, into a new Era. Like they really were gods.
What absolute shit. These mortals may believe that they are something special, but the only thing that is truly different is the color of their blood.
"Come "king", remove my chains, remove these shackles and even after a millennium, I will still rip you apart."
Nothing? He knows. They know. They are nothing. Chained just like me, enslaved to their worshipers.
We never needed the prayers of mortals to make us stronger. We were strong on our own.
But I see more than they do. In their castles and with their feasts, they are blind. Not me. Not here where he left me chained.
Those apelike creatures that they love so much will be their end. Their growth is too fast. It was not that long ago when my brother gifted them with fire and look at them now, look at what they have created in their enlightenment. That is the one thing that we have in common, change is hard.
We can't envision it the same as the mortals. Living long lives means giving up on the creativity of the shorter-lived species. And we don't die. Unless, of course, we rip each other apart. But other than that, nothing will happen.
But after all this time there is change at Olympus. Worship and prayers gets them power and popularity and that's all they want. But they don't see the foley of such a system. A system that they created and enjoyed for eras.
Did they ever think what will happen when there is no prayers coming in? No, in his arrogance he will never believe for a moment that he won't be worshiped. That his prayers can dry up. Why would mortals ever stop worshiping the gods? Isn't it in their nature?
I saw the change. They grow too fast. And in this new world there is no place for the so-called gods. Just like my time has gone, so too will he be brought down by the creatures he milks for power.
I hate this place. With the world on my shoulders, I'm reduced to nothing and can do nothing. But I see what is happening. They are getting weaker. Weaker through the hole their king has left for them. The irony.
And so, I grow stronger. Come humans, change. Change with time. Change enough to worship yourselves. Change enough so that I can slip my chains. Then again there will be blood, that lightning won't be able to stop me this time.
You will join your masters, your gods. In pieces in the streets. In pieces in Olympus. The red and gold will mix on my hands and the hands of the denizens of Tartarus. We are coming. I am coming.
My name is Atlas.