A Higher Plane

Balaam fired two point blank pulses from his phased field shifter, and it seemed like the very air cracked around the young angel hybrid. She looked surprised as Balaam's spear easily pierced her armour, where her central regulator should be. Blue fluid spurted from the wound as her eyes rolled back and an electric discharge seemed to flee from them.

'Fucking Angels, and their kin, harder to get rid of than [cockroaches]', Balaam thought. He surveyed the devasted battle ground, noting that both sides had pulled back to their bases to regroup. The Fallen had been on this forsaken rock for generations, guarding the Zero Well for the hope that it would bring to the Metaverse. Until a few weeks ago, Balaam would have said the Angels didn't even know about the prophecy.

For sure it had been the most boring 10,000 years of his existence. He'd watched his Legion of Fallen carve out a life here, have families, grow old, die, and repeat the cycle. He actually commanded more troops now,
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