The Judge

A blazing sun burned just above the horizon.

Fortes loved this view. He could gaze at it day after day and never tire of it. The

crimson sky was spotless, not a single cloud in sight. Across the boundless ocean,

the shimmering sun cast a golden trail of light on the water’s surface.

A sad smile played on the man’s lips.

As he watched the red giant dip slowly below the edge of the world, Fortes

breathed deeply and reverently, pondering the changes soon to come. It had been

ages since he’d felt this free… With every breath, he felt life returning to his lungs,

a vitality long forgotten. For so long, he’d looked at the world through a dull veil

of despair and futility. At some point, Fortes had lost his purpose. It was as if

someone had torn out the part of his soul responsible for joy.

Disillusioned by the pointlessness of life and the twisted games of fate, he had

grown weary of the reality around him. It seemed nothing in the universe could

bring him happiness anymore. Over the course of his long, event-filled existence,

Fortes had visited countless planets–so many, in fact, that most of them had faded

from memory. He had ruled over the mightiest empires in the galaxy, led countless

legions into battle, spreading chaos and death like wildfire. He had conquered

world after world, bending civilizations and entire peoples to his will. Those who

resisted either perished or were enslaved. There were no boundaries he wouldn’t

cross. Even the greatest emperors of the cosmos bowed before Fortes' might. He

had every material treasure a mortal could dream of. Yes, Fortes was obscenely

wealthy.

On every world he had conquered, people called him by a different name. Fortes

the Conqueror. Fortes the Great. Fortes the Devourer of Worlds. Fortes the Bloody.

But the one that stayed with him the most... was Fortes, the Ruiner of Fates.

He had pondered that title for a long time. Did he truly deserve it? Had he really

crushed lives, broken destinies? After all, he had always believed, with unwavering

certainty, that he was bringing light to the darkness. That he was a force for good.

Not the other way around.

His methods were simply... unorthodox.

That was how he had lived for millennia. And perhaps he could have kept going.

But with each passing century, the truth grew harder to ignore–he was done with

that life. He no longer believed he was doing the right thing. Fortes no longer

wanted to be a conqueror. Somewhere along the way, he realized he had chosen

the wrong path. Was it too late to change? Perhaps. But he decided to try anyway.

One day, Fortes set out on a solitary journey among the stars. Clothed in a coarse

linen cloak like a pauper’s, he left behind every trace of his past life. He knew

none of it held any real value anymore.

For years he wandered through distant galaxies, meeting new people, discovering

worlds he had never seen before.

And in that time, Fortes learned much about himself.

He began to find joy in the simplest of things again. The chirping of birds. The soft

rhythm of rain tapping against a windowsill, lulling him to sleep with a smile on

his face. He rediscovered the pleasures of cooking–and to his surprise, food he

prepared with his own hands tasted a hundred times better!

He even learned to make lasagna. The recipe came from a cook he met on a planet

called Earth. Thankfully (yes, thankfully–he now felt genuine relief), Fortes had

never reached the Milky Way during his campaigns. Earth remained unconquered.

Its people retained their unique beauty, their culture untouched.

It was here that Fortes chose to settle. Perhaps for years. Perhaps forever.

He learned much from the Earthlings. Most of all, he came to understand the value

of time. It took effort to grasp this, for Fortes was immortal. On his homeworld,

death had long been reduced to a minor inconvenience–something like the

common cold. At first, he couldn’t comprehend why humans had yet to cure it. But

he believed the day would come.

Because he saw what humanity was capable of.

Leonardo da Vinci, Salvador Dalí, Pushkin, Dostoevsky, Tchaikovsky–their genius

astounded him. The discoveries of scientists, the brilliant inventions. And though

Earth’s civilization lagged centuries behind his own, their golden age still lay

ahead. Humanity was young, yet already teeming with promise. They were

resilient–able to adapt to anything. Fortes admired that deeply. He watched dozens

of films about space, made by humans. And though many were far from accurate,

he was struck by their courage, their indomitable spirit. Yuri Gagarin’s flight

especially touched him. All the obstacles humanity had overcome to make it

possible–it moved him.

But at the same time, Fortes was saddened by their greed, their cruelty, their thirst

for violence.

In that, he saw his old self.

And it made his skin crawl.

He likened himself to Alexander the Great. A man revered as a liberator, a

visionary. And yes, his deeds were truly impressive. Alexander had been a brilliant

conqueror and a skilled reformer. But were his methods always justified? Fortes

had read about the burning and looting of the beautiful city of Persepolis–a

pointless act, militarily speaking. And in that, too, he saw a reflection of himself.

His advisors had often scolded him for his temper, for "going too far." He’d never

shied away from extreme measures, willing to gamble everything to achieve his

ends.

Fortes had reduced entire planets to ashes over the slightest offense. And the next

day, he might personally tend to the wounds of enemy soldiers… even tell their

children bedtime stories by the fire. He was among the top ten most generous

philanthropists in the known universe, donating billions to orphanages, hospices,

schools, and universities.

Perhaps that’s why humanity intrigued him so.

They were just as contradictory.

Yes, humans could be vicious for no good reason. Just the other night, Fortes

witnessed a couple fighting outside a cinema. A trivial argument–she wanted to see

a romance, he preferred an action flick.

Fortes stepped in, asking gently why they were arguing over something so small.

"None of your business, old man," the boy snapped, shoving him. "Get lost."

Fortes held his gaze, but said nothing. Just smiled faintly. He understood that

anger–he had once been the same.

The girl apologized for her partner’s behavior. But now the boy turned on her,

spewing vile insults. Then, with a sudden shove, he knocked her to the ground and

walked off without so much as a glance back.

"Are you alright, miss?" Fortes helped her to her feet.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, brushing off her clothes–then ran after the boy.

She pleaded with him, begging for forgiveness.

As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't humiliated or hurt her.

Fortes couldn’t understand it. But he saw clearly–the boy was not a good man. And

he wasn’t going to change. Fortes did everything in his power to ensure she never

crossed paths with him again. She deserved better.

Humans were complicated.

But that’s what he loved about them. On this planet, Fortes felt alive again. The

whirlwind of conflicting emotions he experienced here–he had never felt anything

like it.

He was starting to feel at home.

Imperfect, like every Earthling, but trying to be better. By Earth’s calendar, he was

over five thousand years old. And yet, Fortes was still eager to learn.

He could change his appearance with a snap of his fingers, but he chose the guise

of a stately old man. It simply matched how he felt now. Despite his immortality.

He got a job–an ordinary one. As a cashier at a local store. And he loved it. Every

day he met new people and learned something new about them. He didn’t quite get

their obsession with beer–personally, he found it vile–but he understood the appeal

of chips. In fact, he’d grown quite fond of them. And beer with chips? Not half

bad, actually. Strange world.

One day, he saw a family with a small boy. Poor, by human standards. Yet they

were buying sparkling cider, candy, tree ornaments, and other knick-knacks. The

boy didn’t wear fine clothes, but his parents showered him with gifts.

He had a terrible cough. Fortes wasn’t a doctor, but he could tell–the child was

terminally ill. Later, he learned they were preparing for the holidays–Christmas

and New Year’s. Humans cherished these days. They celebrated with joy,

exchanged gifts, cooked feasts, and spent time with loved ones.

His homeworld had similar traditions. But Fortes had never celebrated them. He

couldn’t even say why. Probably because he had always been too busy–with

conquest, with ambition. Always chasing something, never stopping to live.

He never made time for his family. Though once, long ago, he still had the

chance... back when they hadn’t all turned their backs on him.

Yes. Fortes the Conqueror of Galaxies was the loneliest creature in the universe.

"Sir?" a girl’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Forgive me," he smiled, eyes resting on the wooden nutcracker the parents had

bought. "Just lost in thought."

He rang up the figurine, added it to their bag.

"Merry Christmas!" the little boy beamed at him.

"Merry Christmas," Fortes smiled back–and slipped a money order into the bag,

unnoticed. They’d find it only when they got home. But it would be enough to

ensure a comfortable life for the rest of their days. Enough, he hoped, to cure the

boy.

Fortes never forgot his philanthropic work. He could tell–they were good people,

simply dealt a cruel hand. And Fortes loved helping good people.

He watched them walk away… and thought of his own family.

He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. It must have been thousands of years

ago.

But that night, Fortes wept.

He didn’t know how long his journey through the stars would last. Or whether he’d

remain on Earth forever. But he knew one thing for certain–he would never be the

same again. He believed with all his heart: every human being is capable of

change. Of becoming better.

And change must begin with oneself.

He would no longer be Fortes the Ruiner of Fates.

He would become Fortes the Peacemaker. Or Fortes the Savior. Perhaps, in time,

humanity would give him a new name. One born not of fear, but of his deeds. For

what better speaks for a person than the legacy they leave behind?

He would help good people for as long as it took. Share his knowledge with

scientists. Tell tales of great writers and artists from his own world. Continue

building hospitals, schools, universities. Do as much good as he could.

Because Earth… Earth was a marvelous place.

As were its people–flawed, contradictory, unpredictable… but endlessly

fascinating.

And he would keep learning from them.

Because it’s never too late to learn.