February 17, 1899 — After Caloocan
Caloocan smoldered behind them, half in ruin, half in defiance.
Elijah's coat was torn and darkened by ash, but he refused to rest. Every bone in his body screamed for sleep, but his mind—hardened by two timelines, by loss and vision—remained sharp. The Americans had retreated for now, licking their wounds. But they were far from finished.
He stood at a makeshift command post on the outskirts of Polo, beside Aguinaldo and General Luna. Maps were pinned to crates. Bloodied field notes scattered the ground. The next line of defense was thin—too thin.
"They're already regrouping at La Loma and Mandaluyong," Luna growled, pointing at the map with a dagger. "Artillery divisions. Cavalry. Naval support. They'll punch through Malabon and aim straight for Malolos."
Aguinaldo looked tense. He hadn't spoken much since Caloocan—since watching the fires from the balcony of the municipal hall, lips pressed in uncertainty.
Elijah cleared his throat. "We'll never stop them with numbers. Not now. We hit their supply lines, use the terrain. Force them to fight at a disadvantage."
Aguinaldo finally spoke. "The republic is bleeding. The provinces are restless. The Visayas remain distant. If Malolos falls—our claim to legitimacy dies with it."
Elijah nodded slowly. "Then we make Malolos unbreakable. We won't beat them head-on. But we'll make them pay for every street."
February 22 — The American Push Begins
The sky was bruised gray as the offensive began.
General Arthur MacArthur—father of a future titan—led the charge. His columns, bolstered by fresh troops and war-hardened officers, surged from La Loma through muddy plains and scorched rice fields. The Americans advanced with brutal efficiency: roads repaired by engineers, trenches cleared with grenades, and aerial reconnaissance—balloons high above, watching like gods.
Filipino fighters dug in along the Pulilan River, building bunkers from broken homes and sabotaging rail lines in the night. But their weapons were old, their ammunition low, and many were still recovering from Caloocan.
Isa sent drones to scout the enemy lines, though their power cores were degrading. Eli-Ah worked day and night to repair damaged radio repeaters and data-link beacons salvaged from Raines' original field cache. Without her, Elijah's new-tech division would be blind.
But nothing could stop the tide.
On the second day of the offensive, the Americans broke through Guiguinto.
On the third, they surrounded Bigaa.
On the fourth—they reached the edge of Malolos.
The Battle for Malolos
Elijah stood at the city gates, watching the smoke drift toward them like a coming storm. The city—once the beating heart of the republic—was now transformed into a fortress. Trenches ringed the perimeter. Sandbags filled alleyways. Schools had become armories, and churches, sanctuaries for the wounded.
Eli-Ah approached with a report. "They're sending in armored railcars from Manila. They'll strike tomorrow—before dawn."
Elijah's voice was low. "Then tonight, we make our stand."
The Midnight Counteroffensive
Rather than wait for the American strike, Elijah proposed a bold maneuver.
They would go out to meet the enemy.
Under the cover of night, Luna's elite guards, joined by Elijah's advanced strike force, launched a series of coordinated raids on American forward camps. Using stolen flare rounds, they disrupted communications and scattered supply caravans. One unit, led by Isa herself, disabled an entire battery of American field guns with well-placed explosives.
In the chaos, Elijah slipped behind the main line, targeting a logistics command post in a captured schoolhouse. What was meant to be a silent operation became a firefight when the Americans spotted Eli-Ah's shadow moving across a rooftop.
Shots rang out. Windows shattered.
Inside, Elijah fired a blast from his old-world rifle, its core glowing faintly blue. The round tore through sandbags and dropped two enemies before they could radio for support.
When the fighting ended, the outpost was in flames.
Elijah turned to Eli-Ah, panting. "How's the arm?"
She wiped blood from her cheek. "Just grazed. You?"
He looked down at the tear in his sleeve. "Nothing that'll stop me."
For a moment, there was silence between them—not the silence of fear, but of understanding. The closeness that comes from war. From fighting not just for survival, but for something more.
And neither spoke of it.
Not yet.
The Cost
Despite the success of the raids, the American assault began at sunrise.
Artillery pounded Malolos from afar. American infantry surged through the southern gate by noon. Street by street, the battle unfolded. Luna fought like a lion, leading bayonet charges through smoldering plazas. Aguinaldo stayed in the capital building, refusing to leave—even as shells exploded nearby.
Elijah moved between sectors, coordinating the resistance. But the lines were buckling.
By nightfall, they were down to their last stronghold: the convent beside Barasoain Church.
There, Elijah found Aguinaldo staring at a painting of the republic's founding—a relic now smeared in dust and soot.
"It's time," Elijah said. "We have to evacuate."
Aguinaldo clenched his jaw. "This was meant to be our cradle. Our Rome."
"It still can be. But not today. Get your cabinet out. We'll cover the retreat."
Aguinaldo nodded.
As the church bells rang for what might be the final time, Elijah stood atop the stairs, rifle in hand, as the fires of war crept closer.
Retreat and Reflection
That night, the defenders of Malolos pulled back into the countryside.
But they did not retreat in shame—they retreated in purpose.
The republic had not fallen. It had moved.
To San Isidro. To Tarlac. To the forests and the mountains where war became fire and fury.
And Elijah—soldier of two worlds—looked over the last flames of Malolos and whispered, "They may win cities. But they won't win us."
Beside him, Eli-Ah looked out over the valley.
"We're running out of time," she said quietly.
"I know," Elijah replied. "But I'm starting to remember something. Something buried in my past."
She turned to him. "What is it?"
Elijah's eyes narrowed. "The reason Raines sent me back."