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A short-story that just came to mind.
Fyte

My name? My name died along with the world. The real world that is. The world where the human race strived to survive and forcefully pushed to find the answers to their oh-so-pathetic questions. My name? No, I no longer have a name. But they call me Fyte. No pun to the oh-so-ungenerous god that allowed the world to die. Yes. Everyone else was blind to it, but I saw it. I saw how these humans allowed their world to die so easily. I saw the world go so rotten it couldn't survive it anymore, I saw everything.
Theoretically, the world is far from dead. In their eyes everything is better than ever, nothing is even slightly wrong. But these humans don't see beyond the artificial illusion. They don't see the problem in practically pushing the world into the dirty hands of these men. Men. I use the term so lightly. Demons is a better word for them. They let all these machines do everything, blinded to see that they've taken everything from the humans. And the humans? They don't care, they're happy to have machines do the work for them. None of them see that these machines have taken everything from the humans. They don't see.
Humans. I use the word as if I'm not one of them. Than again, I would never considered myself one of them, not anymore. They turned their backs on hope and trust to have easier lives. Such ignorance. And none of them care. None of them. No. I'm not human anymore. I simple am, I simple exist.
I'll fix this world, I'll force the world back from the brink of death. And I'm willing to sacrifice anything for that cause. Anything. If it means destroying everyone of those machines, so be it. If it means killing the whole human race so the world can start anew, it shall be done. Pity? Remorse? No. These people are already dead. They have no further reason to live. They had a choice and allowed their world to rot. They're already dead. I just have to finish the job.
They might see me as a villain. But don't they say that those who save the world are considered heroes? Hypocritical. Call me what they must, it changes nothing. In the end they will all have to die. It is needed so the world can be reborn anew. So the world can once again be sinless.
My name? My name has died, as I will die. As I will die trying to bring the world back from Death's cold fingers. I intend no pun to what was decided by the stars. But they are the ones who gave me that name. My name? In this dead world, my name is Fyte.