Once, there was a village. It had few inhabitants, and they were isolated. The village was in the Knota Mountains, higher up than any had explored, apart from the villagers. They worshipped a god, grazed their cattle, farmed small crops, and went on with their lives. One day, their god took interest in them, specifically in an unborn child. The god marked the child, then went about it's business, and life appeared to go on as normal.

A Few Months Later

The boy was born, healthy and strong. His parents named him Marthus, but he had no last name. From his moment of birth, he began to yell, or gurgle, or communicate in some way. His parents nurtured this, and within the next year, he was able to talk coherently, albeit in a simple way. Not many children had begun talking this early, so his parents treasured him. As he grew older, he began to tinker with his toys, dissembling and reassembling them to his content.

One day, while playing with his toys, Marthus threw his toy into the air, but it stayed there, suspended, rotating slowly, before falling back to the ground. His parents were surprised, and a little worried. They knew of magi, had seen them and some had come from their village, but they knew enough that he should not have powers this early in his life. They took Marthus to the village's wise man, who told them that he had been touched by their god, and that he would be a remarkable child. He told them they should not worry, and that no harm would come to the child while he was under the god's protection.

As time went on, Marthus began to exhibit other powers, lighting fires, shocking his parents with electricity, and shaking the earth, among others. His parents, heeding the wise man's advice, simply put up with the magic, which seemed to be growing in power every day. As the boy grew older, he began to experiment with combinations of his magic and his tinkering. He created a small creature out of old farming tools and some rags, which he brought to life. He adopted it as a pet, and so his parents had to put up with another, albeit small, member of the house.

Eight Years Later

Marthus' parents weren't sure how to manage him. His powers seemed to be growing by the minute, and it was only a matter of time before he hurt someone. They decided they would send him off to the Victubia Mages Academy, where he could learn to master his powers and use them for good. Marthus reluctantly agreed that it was for the best, and said his goodbyes to the village, promising to return. On his way down the mountain, he met a sage, who took him in and offered to train him instead of having him go all the way to Victubia, a treacherous journey through the mountains and across the countryside.

The mage was old and powerful, one of the most knowledgeable people in the field of magic, outside the VMA, and also a good sword fighter. He offered to teach Marthus in exchange for his help in running the sage's monastery, which had been abandoned long ago. It needed constant upkeep, but the old sage was kind, and taught Marthus the ways of magic and the blade.

Soon, the student was equal to the master, able to use multiple elements, but not with much power. There seemed to be a wall between Marthus and his whole potential, which meant he could still only do small things, such as lighting campfires, bending metal for his tinkering or swords, and moving small objects through the air. Meanwhile, his studies of the sword continued, with great results. He built himself a pair of eyeglasses after realizing that his vision was flawed, and also forged his own sword, with the help of the sage.

Soon, the day came when the young man decided he would return to the village. He had stayed in the mountains the whole time, so his parents might be disappointed, but he knew many things, including having better control of his powers. He began his journey to the top of the mountain, only to find ash and death where his village had once been. Only the shrine of the colossal god was left standing, amongst all the destruction. Marthus walked through the ruins of his home, and knelt at the shrine. He prayed for the god to smite the murderers who had killed his family, and his prayers were answered.

The wall between Marthus and his magical potential fell away, suffusing him with power. He felt the god's mind, colossal and infinite, merge with his own. Gilded armor formed around him, and his sword glowed with energy. He realized now that he was not Marthus anymore, he was the Colossus. He vowed to avenge his family, and began to hunt for their killers. The sage on the mountain saw a great light from the village, and knew what had happened. His student was now the master.

Not far away, a camp of bandits joked and laughed around a campfire, dividing up the poor spoils of their most recent raid. Then, the campfire went out. Thunder cracked, and lightning obliterated the middle of the campsite. A golden glow suffused the landscape, and a figure floated down. It was dressed in golden armor, shimmering with an inner light, carrying a sword of pure light. Marthus stood, looking down on the bandits, and realized that although they had killed his family, they were not deserving of death themselves. They simply were trying to live, but were doing it in a way that hurt others. He decided he would try to make them change their ways, and brought them with him to Victubia, only stopping to build a small memorial at his village to the lives they had claimed.

Arriving in Victubia, his powers were suddenly lost. He still had his sword, and the bandits were there, but they were freed from his power. They still had their weapons, and one thing ran through their mind: punish this boy. They all charged as one, only to be driven back by his onslaught of blows. He slew seven of them, injured two, and let the last one go. That was how the Lord PewDiePie found him. Sitting in the night, his sword in front of him, weeping, with the bodies of his family's killers all around him. He was no longer the Colossus, he was Marthus, and he had failed.