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He just went with it.
What? His parents knew what was best for him. They did bring him into this world, after all. But their words confused him sometimes. They claimed he heard the voices of the gods to those people, yet never once did he hear the voices of the gods. Not even a word. Though, he shouldn't question it. He thought he would just play along with their little game, that's all it was.
...
Or maybe they were just as dim-witted as they acted.
Another average day for him, morning prayers, more people asking for help, that sort of stuff. It was all normal. Though, their stories were quite boring to him. At a point, he would just always cry to their stories. They though he was showing sympathy for them, but in all honesty he was just getting tired of listening to them. He thought stories were suppose to be entertaining! Were they trying to make him fall asleep on purpose? He'd just come up with random advice, or just told them he would help lead them to paradise.
He soon realised this was turning into more of a duty than a game. It wasn't ever fun. He would cry for hours on end in his room, wishing he could just go outside and play with the other kids. His complaints to his parents just earned him the response of "You're not like the other kids."
It frustrated him. But he didn't want to disappoint his parents, besides, it's not like it's the worst life ever.
So, he just continued. He kept pretending he was some sort of god, entitled to worship. His parents worshipped him too, for some reason, they never once referred to him as their son. He wasn't even allowed to address them as his parents, he always felt envy when he saw the other kids in the temple get any sort of attention from their parents.
There... was another thing.
He didn't have a name.
His silly parents must of forgotten! But what use would he have for one anyways?