Chapter 10 - Against the Innersphere -
- Attainable Glory -[]
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Tranquil, Kerensky Cluster
Clan Space
3048
(3 month from ComStar appearing)
Liliana was adjusting her codex, her mind on the records she had kept over the years, when she felt someone approach. She turned to see Sigrid standing nearby, her expression determined, yet with a hint of something else—a sense of expectation, of anticipation. Sigrid had a way of standing, her posture straight and resolute, a reminder that they were made from the same genetic material, bred for the same purpose.
"Liliana," Sigrid began, her tone formal, measured. "We require a fifth mechwarrior for the simulation exercise. The Kitmasters have authorized a five-on-five scenario, and we are down to ten kits remaining. I suggested you as our fifth."
Liliana's gaze flicked over her, noting the way Sigrid held her head high, her stance unyielding. She sensed that Sigrid was eager, that this simulation meant more to her than another training exercise. It was a glimpse into the trials that lay ahead, the true test that would determine who would emerge as warriors. Though Liliana was accustomed to running simulations alone, something in her relented. A five-man star offered a taste of the coordination, the strength in unity, that a solo mission lacked. She felt a pang of bitterness, of course—this arrangement brought memories of her own fallen star, those who had once stood beside her in real battle. But here, among these kits, she was Smoke Jaguar, a warrior called upon to fulfill her role.
"Very well, Sigrid," Liliana replied, her voice carrying a cold, restrained edge. "Who else is assigned to this star?"
Sigrid straightened, her eyes bright with pride. "You, I, and three others: Asher, Mira, and Korvin. Asher is in command; he is the most experienced among us. Mira and Korvin are our flank support. You will run point with Asher."
Liliana inclined her head. She had observed Asher, watched the way he carried himself, aware of the subtle hierarchy that had formed among the remaining kits. Asher was respected, both for his skill and his demeanor. He had a strong sense of strategy, one that the others trusted, and he spoke with a self-assuredness that commanded attention. Mira and Korvin, on the other hand, were quieter, more reserved, yet reliable in their own right. They followed orders without question, their loyalty to the star unquestionable.
As they walked toward the simulation room, Sigrid gave her a sideways glance, her gaze assessing. "I have heard that you prefer to run simulations alone, quiaff?"
"Aff," Liliana replied, her tone even. "I am accustomed to operating independently. It is simpler that way."
Sigrid did not miss a beat, but there was a flicker of something like curiosity in her eyes. "But it is not the way of a true warrior. A warrior must be able to rely on their star. You cannot be your own star, Liliana."
Liliana met her gaze, a cold glint in her eyes. "I am aware of that, Sigrid. Do not lecture me on the ways of the Clan."
They entered the simulation room where the others were already waiting. Asher stood with arms folded, his expression serious, focused. He nodded at Liliana with a brief, appraising glance as she joined them, acknowledging her as if she were just another component of the star he now commanded. Mira and Korvin were at his side, their postures respectful, deferential. It was clear that Asher had established his role as the leader here, and Liliana could see the loyalty he commanded from the others.
"Liliana," Asher said, his voice carrying the clipped, precise tone of a trueborn. "You will run point with me. Sigrid has briefed you, quiaff?"
"Aff," Liliana replied, matching his tone.
"Good. Let us begin." Asher gestured to the simulation pods, each configured to simulate a specific BattleMech, tailored to the kits' preferred loadouts. Liliana noted her designation—a Timber Wolf, identical to the one she had piloted countless times before. The HUD would be familiar, the controls second nature. Asher's own simulation would be a Dire Wolf, and Mira and Korvin were in Summoners, while Sigrid had been assigned a Nova for maneuverability and support.
As they settled into their pods, Asher's voice came through the comms, crisp and steady. "Remember, this is a five-on-five engagement. We are facing the opposing star of kits—Arvid, Rina, Jarek, Lina, and Drelka. They will not go easy on us, nor should we expect them to. Maintain formation. Sigrid, stay close and support Liliana on point. Mira, Korvin, you are to flank and provide cover as we move in."
"Neg, Asher," Mira replied over the comms. "I believe you meant 'will not,' not 'won't.' You speak like a freebirth."
There was a brief silence, a flicker of irritation from Asher's side. "You are correct, Mira. I will watch my words. We are not freeborn, and our speech should reflect that."
Liliana felt a flicker of something close to amusement, though it was quickly suppressed. Clan life was strict, every word and movement scrutinized, even something as simple as contraction-free speech could become a mark of distinction or dishonor. She had nearly forgotten how ingrained this was among kits, how much they clung to their discipline as proof of their superiority over freeborns.
Yet as the battlefield loaded in it reveal a blinding expanse of snow and jagged cliffs, the sky above a steely gray that seemed to press down on them. Visibility was limited, the air thick with flurries kicked up by the stomping, thundering feet of massive war machines. The cold, biting wind whistled through the mountain pass, but within the simulated cockpit of her Timber Wolf, Liliana felt nothing but the familiar thrum of the reactor, the hum of power as her systems came online. Her HUD was alive with data streams, enemy signatures blipping in and out as the opposing star crested the rise across the field.
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Warhawk Assault OmniMech
The enemy's formation was disciplined, the Warhawk at the center, flanked by the Summoner and the Mad Dog, with the Stormcrow moving forward to scout the flanks. They moved as one, a coordinated assault unit, their weapons primed and ready. Liliana felt a surge of excitement building, her senses sharpening as her star advanced, each mech spaced perfectly to avoid overlapping fields of fire. It was the kind of formation she had drilled countless times—pure Smoke Jaguar discipline, raw, unyielding strength.
"Hold formation," Asher's voice crackled over the comms, cold and unrelenting. "They will break before us. Mira, Korvin, support fire from the left flank. Sigrid, on the right with Liliana. We will not yield."
"Aff," came the tight, precise responses of her teammates, their voices steady, unafraid.
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Timber Wolf Heavy OmniMech
The enemy star advanced, the distance closing, each side calculating their moves with brutal precision. Liliana adjusted her Timber Wolf's stance, feeling the powerful hum of the SRM launchers primed and ready, the reassuring weight of the Large Pulse Laser beneath her fingertips. She focused on the Summoner, its sleek frame unmistakable as it moved to flank her side of the formation. Her HUD locked onto the target, the targeting reticule flashing red.
She could sense the Summoner pilot's intent—the eagerness, the ambition. He wanted to bring her down, to prove himself, to show his worth by toppling the most dangerous warrior on the field. Liliana felt a spark of amusement, a fierce thrill as she leaned into the controls, coaxing her Timber Wolf into a loping, sidestepping run to meet him head-on.
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Summoner Heavy OmniMech
"Liliana," Sigrid's voice came through the comms, tight with concern. "Maintain position."
"Neg," Liliana replied with a cold, steely edge. "The Summoner is mine."
Her Timber Wolf surged forward, snow spraying in her wake as she closed in on the Summoner. The other mech was a menacing sight, its autocannon primed, the barrel gleaming in the muted light. The Summoner's pilot held nothing back, unleashing a hail of autocannon shells that tore through the air, each round punching into the snow as Liliana darted to the side, her Timber Wolf's jump jets flaring as she vaulted upward, dodging the barrage with a burst of power.
She came down hard, her mech's feet digging into the frozen ground as she fired her Large Pulse Laser. The beam lanced out, carving through the Summoner's left arm, sending chunks of armor scattering into the snow. The Summoner staggered, its balance momentarily lost, but the pilot recovered quickly, bringing the autocannon around for another shot.
"Think you can touch me?" Liliana sneered, a dark thrill running through her as she twisted her Timber Wolf in a tight, agile pivot, firing her Medium Pulse Lasers in rapid succession. The beams tore into the Summoner's torso, cutting deep grooves into its armor, searing through the underlying structure. She felt the heat spike in her cockpit, her reactor straining, but she ignored it, pressing the advantage.
The Summoner pilot was skilled, refusing to back down, bringing his mech into a tight arc as he fired his ER PPC, the charged particle beam crackling as it seared past her, close enough to send warning alarms flaring across her HUD. Liliana's grin widened, her blood pounding as she sidestepped the blast, her Timber Wolf moving with a deadly grace that belied its bulk. She activated her SRM-6 racks, unleashing a torrent of short-range missiles that peppered the Summoner's torso, explosions ripping through its armor.
<("Argh!")> The pilot's voice broke through the comms, strained with pain and frustration as his mech buckled under the assault. But he was tenacious, refusing to yield, his Summoner struggling to stay upright, autocannon still primed, still aimed directly at her.
"You should have yielded," Liliana taunted, her voice cold, merciless.
The Summoner staggered back, its armor cracking, but its pilot surged forward with a last, desperate attack. Liliana allowed it, watching him struggle, savoring the thrill of toying with him, of drawing out the fight. She sidestepped another blast, her Timber Wolf moving with practiced agility, the jump jets flaring again as she vaulted over a low ridge, landing behind the Summoner.
<("Is that all you have?")> she sneered, her voice sharp, laced with mockery.
She closed in, bringing her Timber Wolf's foot up, the powerful myomer muscles flexing, and then brought it down on the Summoner's cockpit with brutal finality. Metal crunched, the reinforced plating giving way under the force, the pilot's last gasp of resistance crushed beneath her feet. Her HUD marked the Summoner as neutralized, its red blip fading from the display, leaving only a twisted, crumpled heap of metal in her wake.
"Liliana, return to formation!" Asher's voice was terse, but he could not mask the satisfaction in his tone. She had brought down one of the enemy's most formidable assets, her cold, brutal efficiency setting the tone for the battle.
But the tide was turning.
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Dire Wolf Assault OmniMech
Asher's Dire Wolf was locked in a vicious exchange with Arvid's Warhawk, the two mechs trading volleys of ER PPC and autocannon fire, neither giving ground, each shot rattling through the snowy field. Mira's Mad Dog was taking heavy fire from Rina's Stormcrow, the enemy pilot's pulse lasers scoring deep burns across Mira's armor. Korvin had fallen back, his Timber Wolf smoking, crippled after a hit to his reactor that left him limping, vulnerable.
"Korvin is down!" Sigrid's voice came over the comms, laced with desperation. "Asher, what are your orders?"
"Hold position," Asher replied, his tone steady, yet strained. "Focus fire on the Mad Dog. Liliana, we need you on the Warhawk. We cannot let them break our line!"
Liliana turned her attention to the Warhawk, the towering form of Arvid's mech casting a long shadow over the battlefield. It was a formidable machine, bristling with energy weapons, its PPCs glowing as they charged. She felt the weight of the coming clash settle over her, the gravity of a duel that would decide the fate of the battle.
"Arvid," she muttered, her voice a low, fierce whisper. "Let us end this."
As if he had heard her, Arvid's Warhawk turned, his gaze locking onto her through the distance, the faintest flicker of recognition, of challenge passing between them. It was a duel of titans now—two mechs, two pilots, each honed in the fires of battle, each driven by something fierce, unyielding.
(("Liliana,")) Arvid's voice crackled through the comms, cold and filled with contempt. (("You think your Timber Wolf can stand against my Warhawk? I will grind you into the snow."))
"Then come and try," she replied, her voice steady, unshaken.
They moved in tandem, the two mechs circling each other, each step heavy, purposeful, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Snow sprayed up around them, flurries kicked into the air as they closed in, each pilot reading the other, gauging the slightest shift in stance, the smallest opening.
Arvid fired first, his ER PPCs lancing out in a blinding arc of energy, the crackling beams searing through the air. Liliana twisted her Timber Wolf, narrowly evading the blast, her jump jets flaring as she leaped to the side, SRM racks blazing as she returned fire. The missiles streaked toward the Warhawk, impacting against its heavy armor, the explosion casting fragments of metal across the field.
The Warhawk staggered, but Arvid recovered, pressing forward, firing again with relentless precision. Liliana dodged, the pulse lasers of her Timber Wolf flaring as she fired, the beams carving into the Warhawk's shoulder, stripping away layers of armor, exposing the machinery beneath.
They clashed, two titans locked in a brutal dance of destruction, each blow a test of skill, of endurance, of raw, unbreakable will. The Warhawk loomed before her, its frame scorched, battered, yet undeterred, each shot an expression of Arvid's ruthless determination. And Liliana met him, move for move, each twist, each dodge, each calculated shot pushing both 'mechs closer to the edge, closer to the final, decisive moment.
Around them, the battlefield fell silent, the snow settling in a white, pristine blanket, untouched by the violence that now raged between these two warriors. It was a duel not merely of strength, but of honor, of survival, of fate itself.
And as they circled, locked in the deadly rhythm of combat, the tension thickened, each second a heartbeat in the relentless, unforgiving rhythm of war. The snowy battlefield was a canvas of scorched earth and twisted metal, the remnants of fallen Omnimechs strewn across the landscape, their frames silent witnesses to the brutality unfolding between Liliana and Arvid. The two titans circled each other, massive war machines dancing a deadly waltz of destruction, each pilot pushing their machine to the limit, neither willing to give an inch. The Timber Wolf and the Warhawk were battered and smoking, their armor shredded, exposing the skeletal framework and fragile internals beneath.
Liliana's Timber Wolf was a nightmare of shattered plating and charred metal, her right arm torn away from a direct ER PPC hit. Her HUD was ablaze with damage warnings, systems barely holding together, but she ignored the alarms, her mind honed to a razor's edge of focus. She was running hotter than she should have, the SRM racks nearly empty, but she felt the surge of adrenaline like a lifeline, keeping her in the fight. Her remaining weapons systems hummed, ready for another volley.
(("Liliana,")) Arvid's voice crackled over the comms, filled with scorn, the arrogance dripping from each word. (("You have pushed this Timber Wolf beyond its limits. I do not know whether to be impressed or disgusted by your recklessness."))
"Arvid," she replied, her voice as cold as the snow-covered field around them, "I would think you would be grateful. You can now face me without hiding behind your flanks."
Arvid laughed, a bitter sound that carried over the comms. (("Typical. You think that because you have brought down a Summoner, you can challenge a true warrior's Warhawk? I will teach you what it means to face a superior pilot."))
The Warhawk surged forward, snow kicking up in its wake, its ER PPCs charging with deadly energy. Liliana's Timber Wolf darted to the side, her jump jets flaring as she vaulted over a low rise, landing in a crouch, her Large Pulse Laser firing in retaliation. The beam seared through the Warhawk's left leg, melting armor and carving into the structure beneath. Arvid's Warhawk staggered, smoke pouring from the damaged limb, but he quickly recovered, swinging his remaining weapons to bear on her.
(("Yield, Liliana,")) Arvid sneered, his voice filled with that unyielding arrogance, that belief in his own invincibility. (("You are beaten."))
"Neg," she replied, the single word laced with steel. "I am not finished."
She fired her Medium Pulse Lasers, each beam lancing out in rapid succession, cutting deep into the Warhawk's torso. Arvid's mech stumbled, armor peeling away in great chunks, his HUD likely ablaze with damage warnings. But he kept coming, his pride pushing him beyond reason, beyond caution, as he tried to overpower her through sheer force.
"Arvid," Liliana's voice came over the comms, cold and sharp, "you cling to your superiority like a fool. You will find that pride does not make you invincible."
(("Is that what you tell yourself?")) he shot back, his voice a mixture of anger and derision. (("You are a kit, Liliana, nothing more. You only survive because I allow it."))
"Then prove it," she replied, sidestepping his next attack with effortless precision, her Timber Wolf's agility unmatched. She could feel the heat building in her reactor, the strain pushing her systems to the brink, but she ignored it, her focus unbroken. She fired her SRMs, the missiles streaking toward the Warhawk, impacting across its torso in a series of fiery explosions.
The Warhawk shuddered under the assault, its frame buckling, but Arvid pressed on, his pride refusing to let him yield. He unleashed his remaining ER PPC, the charged particle beam slicing through the air, grazing her Timber Wolf's side. Armor melted and alarms blared, but Liliana moved in, closing the distance, her Large Pulse Laser primed.
They clashed, the two mechs locked in a brutal struggle, their frames grinding against each other, metal shrieking as they grappled. Liliana's Timber Wolf twisted, her remaining arm swinging up to drive her fist into the Warhawk's shoulder joint, severing the connection, sparks flying as wires and actuators tore loose. Arvid retaliated, his Warhawk slamming into her with its full weight, sending both mechs stumbling back, snow exploding in a blinding spray around them.
(("You think you can defeat me?")) Arvid growled, his voice ragged, filled with fury. (("You are nothing!"))
Liliana felt a surge of satisfaction, the thrill of the fight, the knowledge that she was pushing him to the edge. Arvid's arrogance was cracking, his belief in his own superiority faltering with each blow, each movement that she countered with ruthless efficiency. She could hear the desperation in his voice, the frustration as he realized that his strength, his pride, would not be enough.
"I do not think, Arvid," she replied, her voice cold and unrelenting. "I know."
She fired her Large Pulse Laser, the beam slamming into the Warhawk's already-damaged torso, punching through the weakened armor. Arvid's mech staggered, smoke billowing from its ruined internals, but he still refused to yield, his Warhawk lurching forward, swinging its arm in a desperate, clumsy attack.
Liliana sidestepped, her Timber Wolf moving with a fluid grace, her jump jets flaring as she leapt over the Warhawk, landing behind it. She pivoted, her targeting reticule locking onto the Warhawk's exposed back, and unleashed her remaining SRMs. The missiles struck true, detonating against the Warhawk's reactor housing, sending shrapnel and smoke spiraling into the air.
"Arvid," Liliana's voice cut through the comms, a deadly whisper. "Yield. This fight is over."
(("Neg,")) he spat, his voice filled with raw defiance, the pride that would not let him admit defeat. (("I will never yield to you!"))
He turned, his Warhawk limping, its movements sluggish, desperate. But Liliana was already in position, her Timber Wolf towering over the crippled mech. She brought her remaining arm up, her Large Pulse Laser charging, the barrel aimed directly at the Warhawk's cockpit.
"Yield," she demanded again, her voice an unyielding command.
Arvid hesitated, his mech trembling, the pride in his voice faltering as he realized the truth—that he was beaten, that his strength, his superiority, meant nothing in the face of her unrelenting precision. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen, that he might lower his arms and admit his defeat.
But his pride would not allow it.
With a roar of defiance, Arvid lunged forward, his Warhawk's remaining weapons firing in a last, desperate attempt to bring her down. But Liliana was ready. She sidestepped, her Timber Wolf pivoting, and brought her foot down on the Warhawk's cockpit, the weight of her mech crashing through the reinforced glass and metal, crushing the command seat beneath her.
The Warhawk fell silent, its frame slumping, smoke and sparks spilling from its shattered torso. Liliana stood over the ruined mech, her Timber Wolf towering over the broken form, the battlefield quiet, the only sound the faint hum of her remaining systems. She felt the silence settle around her, heavy, final, the weight of her victory pressing down on her like a shroud.
She breathed deeply, her heart pounding, the thrill of battle fading, replaced by the cold satisfaction of a warrior who had proven her superiority. She had broken him, shattered his pride, reduced him to nothing. Arvid's belief in his own invincibility, his arrogance, had crumbled under the weight of her relentless precision, her unyielding strength.
Liliana took a step back, her Timber Wolf's systems cycling down, her HUD clearing as the simulation faded. She was alone, surrounded by the silent remains of the battlefield, her star fallen, the enemy destroyed. She felt a strange emptiness, a hollow ache, as she realized that the thrill of victory, the satisfaction of proving herself, had been fleeting, leaving only silence in its wake.
And as the last echoes of the battle faded, she wondered if any victory, any strength, could fill the emptiness within her.
The simulation dissolved around Liliana, the snowy battlefield fading, replaced by the cold, sterile light of the training chamber. The HUD blinked off, the cockpit screen going dark as the restraints released, and she was left with the quiet hum of the pod powering down. She exhaled, the adrenaline of the battle still buzzing in her veins, her hands steady and sure as she pulled herself from the pod, stepping into the training hall.
To her surprise, a crowd had gathered—technicians, instructors, and her fellow cadets from both stars, all watching with expressions ranging from awe to resentment. The technicians exchanged murmurs, impressed by the tactical precision she had displayed, while the instructors looked on with the cold, appraising gaze of seasoned warriors who recognized skill and knew its price. Her own star stood a little straighter, a glint of pride in their eyes, each of them aware that they had been pushed to the very edge, saved only by her unyielding will. The battle had been brutal, decisive, and though her teammates had fallen, they now wore expressions of quiet satisfaction, a shared understanding of the victory she had secured.
But across the room, the members of the opposing star wore the expressions of those who had been robbed. Arvid's team glowered, arms crossed, a storm of resentment brewing in their eyes. They had come so close to victory, only to watch it slip from their grasp in the final, brutal clash between Liliana and Arvid. They had thought they would taste the glory of victory, that they would prove themselves stronger. And yet here they were, witnesses to their own failure, forced to see the strength they had underestimated, the determination they could not match.
Among them, Rina's face was a mask of fury, her pride and anger visible in every line of her posture, her fists clenched at her sides. Her Summoner had fallen to Liliana's Timber Wolf, crushed beneath its feet, her defeat so final, so humiliating, that she could barely contain the seething bitterness within her. Her gaze locked onto Liliana, her eyes narrowing with pure, unbridled hatred.
"You think this makes you superior, quiaff?" Rina's voice was sharp, biting, the Clan-speech carrying the unmistakable weight of a challenge. "You only won because you crushed us with dishonor. You fight like a beast, not a warrior."
Liliana met Rina's gaze with an icy calm, her face expressionless, her voice steady. "Neg, Rina. I fought as a true warrior—efficiently, without hesitation. If you cannot understand that, then you are not fit to wear this uniform."
Rina's face twisted in rage, and before anyone could intervene, she took a step forward, fists raised, her posture screaming defiance. "You are no true warrior! You robbed me of honor in that simulation. I challenge you, here and now!"
But before Liliana could respond, Sigrid stepped forward, blocking Rina's path with a cold, unyielding glare. "Neg, Rina. I will not permit you to dishonor our star with your bitterness."
The tension in the room spiked, the air heavy as the two young warriors squared off, Sigrid's stance protective, unwavering, while Rina's was filled with barely suppressed fury. Rina's teammates shifted uneasily, their resentment visible, but none dared to interfere. They understood that this was Clan Smoke Jaguar, and here, weakness would be met with harshness, with unyielding strength. Rina's own teammates looked away, unwilling to align themselves with her fury, sensing the futility in her challenge.
"Step aside, Sigrid," Rina growled, her voice low and threatening. "This is not your fight."
"Neg," Sigrid replied, her voice as cold as iron. "If you challenge my star, you challenge me. If you think you can defeat a member of the star that bested you, then by all means—try."
Rina's expression twisted, her pride at war with the reality before her. She had lost, and now, denied her chance at even the hollow satisfaction of striking Liliana, she was forced to confront her own failure yet again. Her anger faltered, her fists dropping slightly as she weighed the implications of going up against Sigrid, who stood poised and ready, her stance unyielding.
The silence stretched, every eye in the room fixed on the two cadets, tension thick in the air as the Clan's code loomed over them. To lose was to yield, to accept defeat. But to cling to bitterness, to challenge without purpose—that was the mark of a freeborn, a stain upon any true warrior. Rina's teammates subtly withdrew, unwilling to be associated with her loss of control, their expressions shifting from support to silent disdain.
Finally, Rina lowered her gaze, her face darkening with shame and rage, though she refused to let go of her pride entirely. "You may have won today, Liliana," she spat, her voice a low snarl. "But this means nothing in the end."
Sigrid's expression did not change, her voice clipped and efficient, the Clan's principles ringing in her tone. "Your anger serves no one, Rina. Control it, or you are unworthy to call yourself Smoke Jaguar."
With that, Rina turned sharply, her shoulders rigid, and stalked out of the room, her teammates following at a distance, their respect for her visibly eroded. The other cadets watched her go, some murmuring quietly, a few technicians exchanging glances. The Kitmasters said nothing, their expressions unreadable, but Liliana could sense their approval. This was Clan life—brutal, uncompromising, and unforgiving. Weakness, pride, resentment—none of it held any weight here.
Sigrid turned back to Liliana, her gaze steady, respectful. "Your victory brought us honor. We will not allow a bitter enemy to cast doubt upon that. You fought well."
Liliana nodded, a brief acknowledgment, her gaze flicking to the empty space where Rina had been. She felt no anger toward Rina, no lingering resentment. The girl had lost, just as the others had. In the end, it was nothing more than a fact, a data point in the vast calculation of Clan worth. She had bested her opponents, proven her strength, her ability to adapt and prevail. That was what mattered here.
The technicians exchanged murmurs, a few casting glances her way, their admiration evident. They had watched her fight, witnessed her ruthless efficiency, her refusal to yield. In Clan Smoke Jaguar, strength was the only currency, the only measure of worth, and Liliana had demonstrated hers beyond question. Even the Kitmasters, usually silent and detached, offered subtle nods of approval, their eyes coldly appraising yet filled with a quiet respect.
As she stood there, the taste of victory fading, Liliana felt the familiar hollowness creeping back. She had won, yes, but it felt like little more than a repetition of battles she had fought a hundred times before. The thrill, the satisfaction, was fleeting, leaving her with the same cold emptiness. She looked at Sigrid, at Mira, at Asher—all of them filled with pride, each of them unaware of the weight she carried, the memories that haunted her.
But for now, she was Smoke Jaguar, a warrior who had earned her place, who had defended her star with unyielding strength. And as the silence settled around her, she held onto that identity, letting it fill the emptiness, if only for a moment, if only to remind herself that she still belonged, even in the shadow of her past.
- Chapter Note from the Author
- 180k word and counting it be a long while before the trial of position because I will sure he'll drag this arc out. But I will say a neuro helmet malfunction will let our smoke Jaguar experience some Star League stuff. What she experienced is up for interpretation. Also you guys like it more if I include the date or just jump straight in? Sorry for the some of the contraction that is present I try lowering it but the dialogue just feel weird without it.