Alan Moore, Watchmen

As Damon was watching the civilizations he’d created progressing hundreds of years in the blink of an eye, they were still around the middle ages, and there they would remain with the ever present combat in the realms, as many of the races were quite prone to ****, years of progress would be lost,

And Damon, as an impartial party to his own creation, left them to exist. And with that, decades passed, wars broke out, many millions dying in continuous fights over land or gold or any other commodity worth drawing blood over.

The same process repeated many times over, as he witnessed the rises and falls of nearly twenty thousand kingdoms and empires alike.

Every time of discovery and peace was interrupted, without pause, by war and destruction, every life extinguished without his intervention.

He looked away, feeling a bit nauseous, before being met with a fitting notification.

Mad God? Well, that really did fit what he’d been doing. The two with him were merely confused, but they were unaware of the… The billions that had died, as he watched on, bearing witness to the countless slaughters and massacres and all the bloodshed, which he could’ve stopped.

Why didn’t he stop it? He just said his influence would’ve made Earth better, but here he was, watching the wars for hundreds of years doing nothing?

Damon suddenly looked to his hands. They were still, remarkably so.

Having just seen billions die, you would think he’d be shaking like a leaf, but no. His hands were firm, as was his mind, but his eyes. His eyes were wide open, but he didn’t see his current surroundings. No, what he saw was much worse.

His sight was back in the nightmare, when he witnessed what Terranis had done, but now he saw himself, Damon Steel. A bloody axe in his hands, cutting warriors in twain, as one would cut the grass, a bloodthirsty smile plastered across his face.

Damon **** his eyes shut, all sight off, and he waited. Waived for the pain and the memories, and the responsibilities to fade. But they didn’t.

“He wants me in the Pantheon?” Beyond being absurd, why? He’d just proven he’d be ineffective, why him?

With the absurd level gain of Inner Dimension, he was no longer being charged mana for his alterations, no matter how large.

So he got to work.

Damon didn’t cull the creatures of ****, instead giving them sympathy, altering their minds, giving them positive thoughts. Yeah, it was shady mind control, but it was either that or mass extermination, and Damon didn’t really want to jump there, yet.

After years of his changes, the world he created was far more prosperous, though the development was still in the middle ages, there was peace, and more cooperation than ever before.

He’d made up his mind. He’d become worthy of being chosen.

He wouldn’t be the Mad God he’d so callously confirmed himself to be.

Not anymore.

The fifteen billion beings were peacefully coexisting, with his intervention, many millions were saved, and all the while Ember was watching on, confused about the vast majority of the past few hours, but what she did see was Damon intense emotions over whatever had happened, leading her to embrace him softly, resolving herself to helping him if she could.

But all this while Damon was locked away in deep thought. His mind was pondering the world he had dreamt in his slumber.

But that was enough sulking, for now, at least. Damon willed himself and his group from his Inner Dimension, landing firmly in the wooden rendition of his childhood home, and as he walked out the door, he found the sun high in the sky.

He didn’t know what time it was when he entered his dimension, but, while over two days had passed in it for Damon, it appeared less than an hour had passed outside of it.

But in that hour, Terranis had made its way towards its intended dinner, and having finished eating, was wandering aimlessly through the sea, but as it continued, its consumption continued, as well.

Damon then teleported away, landing haplessly upon his throne, a heavy sigh leaving his body.

As she heard the sigh, Ember rushed to Damon’s face in an effort to comfort him, but was surprised to find Damon slumbering peacefully, though he appeared as though he was ever ready for an attacker. Ready to strike out at a moment's notice.

But this sleep was far more peaceful than any he’d had in this world so far. No unwelcome memories, no hard hitting predictions about himself, with but a welcome void blanketing around him in his rest.

…

After many hours of restful slumber, Damon’s eyes shot open. After calming down, he embraced both Ember and Dirpe, who each had tried to ease his tension, and while Ember was pleasantly tenderizing his rough back, Dirpe had fallen into her own slumber upon his lap.

“She looks like a little pixie.” Damon stated, before gently placing a finger to her forehead.

And in a manner similar to what he’d done with Dovei, he introduced a strand of his Dragon Kings Empyrean essence into her biology.

And to his relief and satisfaction, a lithe set of silken wings sprouted from her back. The set looked as though you’d taken them directly from an enormous Blue Morpho, a lustrous iridescence shining through them, bringing Damon to a shocked standstill.

They were beautiful, the shimmering flutters as Dirpe lay in peaceful bliss, the wings were effervescent as they were tranquil upon her back.

Damon gently shook her awake, and as she stirred, her serene visage was instantly interrupted by squealing delight, “Dirpe has wings?”

“More than that, Dirpe.” Damon told her simply, before tapping her head with a light bonk.

And with that touch, her form began its transformation, to a remarkably tiny, incandescent blue Fairy Dragon.

And while she was quite small for a Dragon, she was still the size of an enormous Brown Bear.