Angels
Beings from another dimension—one so complex that humans are utterly incapable of comprehending it.
The scientist Andrew Gangreas once said:
"Existence within the sixth dimension is defined by patterns of such immense complexity that they cannot be replicated or understood from lower dimensions."
"Reality transcends any physical or mathematical law as we know them. Universal constants—such as the speed of light, gravity, or time—are not fixed, nor even relative: they simply do not exist."
The angels are the inhabitants of that realm—true tyranids, discovered two millennia ago. It took the combined effort of three planets to kill the first one who made contact with humans
Interestingly, they do not descend into the third dimension in their true forms. Instead, they inhabit vessels—Vantar armors—capable of containing only a fraction of the immense power these beings emit.
The armors are older than humanity itself. No one knows where they came from. Only a few have ever been recovered after an angel's defeat, and they date back millions of years, created by an unknown civilization.
To the misfortune of Ulysses and the entire population of the planet Antares, one is about to crash onto the surface.
—PLANET ANTARES WE— BZZZZZZ
One of the reasons Antares remained so isolated was the gas giant it orbited. Communications from the three warships had been interrupted multiple times. After hours of failed attempts, only one encrypted message made it to the capital of Antares:
"Angel. Avoid. Evacuate."
Ulysses ran to his house as fast as the legs trained from a lifetime of chasing cows could carry him.
He received the message through the brain-implanted communicator. From Morse to VersaLengua—it was one of the first things children learned in Basic School. He'd known how to translate it since he was six.
The cows were mooing, upset about being forgotten, but he didn't care anymore. Only his mother mattered now. Considering her condition, he might have to carry her to the nearest beacon.
(Fuck fuck fuck)
That was the only thing running through his mind as his lungs burned, his eyes watered, and his legs screamed for mercy.
His farm was located in a cliff, his house in the top, and the place were the cows ate in the bottom, as he climbed the hill he started seeing the smoke coming from the nearby city
It seemed like a war was being fought there, plasma bullets were shredding the blue atmosphere
—ALREADY?!—
That thing was closer than he imagined. Fear clutched at his chest and mind, pushing him faster.
He could already see his home. His mother was in the surface vehicle. He let out a brief laugh—he had completely forgotten that old junk still worked.
—Mother, I—!—
He shouted, just before the shockwave sent him flying. His house—everything in it, including his mother—disappeared in a blaze.
Before he could scream, before he could breathe, before he could even think—everything went black.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He didn't know how long it had been since he last felt conscious. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was alive.
His eyes were blurry, his mouth tasted like blood, and his nose was full of mucus. Combined with the high-pitched ringing in his ears, it nearly drove him insane.
The shock hadn't let him process anything. The sudden death of his mother—Casme—didn't feel real. It was like a metal bar smashing into his skull every nanosecond.
Everything had happened so fast, he hadn't had time to understand it.
He was about to cry when a sudden cough echoed from the other side of the cave.
(Wait... why am I in a cave?)
Turning toward the sound, he saw a man sitting there, soaked in blood. But not just any man—one of the legends.
A Hexar.
"Don't look so confused, kid," the man coughed. "I'm Ventura Isol. Recognize the armor?"
Ulysses froze. The armor was like nothing he had ever seen—pure white, the whitest thing imaginable, traced with glowing green-blue lines like plasma.
The helmet was especially strange—heart-shaped, like a child's drawing, with a circular core at the center and a stripe connecting it to the nape of the neck.
"You're... a Hexar."
The man—Ventura—sat slumped, as if he would never move again. After a moment of silence, the helmet split in two and retracted behind the armor.
The face revealed belonged to a man who, in Ulysses' eyes, looked like someone who had stared into the void for far too long. Middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed beard, a shaved head, and dark skin.
"Hexar, yeah. That's what they call us in this sector," he muttered.
As he spoke, Ulysses noticed the wound—a deep gash in his side so severe it made Ulysses almost vomit. He could see inside the man.
"You saved me, didn't you? That wound happened while you were escaping?"
"Smart kid. Yeah, I saved you. You passed out from the shock almost immediately. But that thing chased me, and if it weren't for Wester, we'd both be dead."
"Wester? You weren't alone?"
"Of course not. That angel was a Category 5. No one's taking that on with locked armor."
"Locked armor?"
Everything was so strange—so distant—it all felt like a dream. Too surreal for his mind to keep up.
"Listen, kid. I don't have much time left. This tech can't patch this wound. But you can still escape the planet before it collapses."
"What about the angel?"
"The angel's dead. That's why I'm telling you to run. Like I said—Wester killed it."
Hope—just a flicker—sparked inside Ulysses. His mother… no. He couldn't think about that now. He would grieve when he was safe. That's what she would've told him.
"Wait... why is the planet collapsing?"
His heart skipped a beat as the question struck. Then, like a wave, the rest of his senses returned. His nose caught the stench of death.
His ears caught the silence—and the distant crackle of something burning.
How? How could a planet die? In mere hours?
Impossible. Angels can't do that. Right?
Kill a planet? Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.
"HOW?!"
He screamed at the man, who looked away. Ulysses didn't even feel the pain in his leg from the earlier injury. It no longer mattered.
He crawled out of the cave, perched high on a mountain. On any other day, it would have been a breathtaking view.
Now, it was like staring into the end of days.
Fire poured from every crevice his eyes could reach. Everything was grey—broken—decaying. The forest that once surrounded the mountain had become smoke.
"An angel... did this? In just a few hours?"
He vomited. His mind spiraled. Everyone—his friends, the cityfolk, his mother, Ícaro—all gone.
The planet—Antares—was dead.