The aftermath of the battle at Calumpit brought with it no triumph—only tension. Though the town had been taken, the American presence had grown bolder. They now openly moved through the nearby provinces, setting up camps, fortifying roads, and interrogating anyone suspected of aiding the revolutionaries.
Inside the hastily repurposed convent that served as Luna's war room, the air was thick with argument.
"You risked too much!" barked Captain Amado, his scarred face flushed with anger. "Charging the rear flank with an untested plan—what if you had failed?"
Elijah, still bruised and bandaged from the night raid, stood his ground. "But we didn't. And we'd be counting dead civilians if we waited."
"You're not the only one with ideas, Elías," another officer, Colonel Arevalo, added. "We've been fighting this war for years without you."
General Luna raised a hand, silencing them. "And yet, in just two weeks, he's won us ground. You can question his methods, but not the results."
Elijah glanced around the room. Some faces were with him—others decidedly not.
Outside, Isa waited by the door, having heard the shouting. When Elijah emerged, she tilted her head. "Rough meeting?"
He nodded. "The leadership's divided. Some of them think I'm trying to take over. Others... they're just afraid of change."
"That fear can be dangerous," she said softly. "And when dangerous men are afraid, they don't think clearly. They act."
The Camp at San Ildefonso
Later that week, Luna relocated the army headquarters further east to San Ildefonso. The town was smaller, quiet, nestled in the foothills and surrounded by dense jungle—a natural fortress, Luna had called it. But within the inner circle of officers, a storm was brewing.
Elijah's reforms to discipline and training had already unsettled many of the traditional commanders. He implemented rotating night patrols, fire drills, and weekly strategic simulations. He recruited former schoolteachers, surveyors, and engineers to help train new recruits in topography, mapping, and modern tactics. Some soldiers welcomed the new approach.
Others resisted.
Captain Amado and Colonel Arevalo began quietly undermining Elijah's authority. Supplies meant for training exercises mysteriously disappeared. Orders were delayed. Recruits were pulled from Elijah's sessions under vague pretenses.
Isa noticed it first. "They're isolating you."
Elijah sighed. "I expected pushback, but not sabotage. This isn't just rivalry—it's deliberate."
Then came the final blow: a massacre.
A five-man scouting team Elijah had sent south to recon American troop lines near Malolos never returned. Days later, their bodies were found—shot in the back, mutilated, stripped of weapons.
Luna summoned the officers. The war room was tense, the map on the table soaked in candlelight and fury.
"This wasn't just an ambush," Elijah said. "They were set up. Someone leaked their route."
Captain Amado folded his arms. "Or maybe you just sent boys to do a man's job."
Elijah leaned over the table. "Don't insult the dead to hide your cowardice."
"Enough!" Luna's voice cracked like thunder. He looked at each man in turn. "I will not tolerate insubordination or betrayal. Elijah, you will lead a verification patrol south. Confirm American movement near Malolos. Isa, you'll accompany him."
Arevalo scoffed. "Sending him out again? We might not see him return."
Luna glared. "Then pray nothing happens to him—because if it does, the one responsible will hang."
That Night
In the silence of their quarters, Isa handed Elijah a pack. "You're not safe here."
"Not with them, no," he agreed. "But this is bigger than me. If we fracture now, if we start turning on each other... the Americans won't even have to fight."
Isa nodded. Her gaze lingered on him. "Just come back. Don't let them win from within."
He smiled, weary but grateful. "If I don't come back, tell Luna to burn every bridge behind me."
She stepped forward. Her hand brushed his. "Don't say that. You're coming back. And when you do..."
He met her eyes. For the first time, something unspoken passed between them—something warmer than duty, stronger than fear.
She whispered, "You'll need to kiss me."
Elijah blinked. "Was that an order?"
"A warning," she said, and turned away with a half-smile.
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance. The storm was coming—not just from the Americans, but from within the revolution itself.
And Elijah knew: the battle ahead wouldn't just be fought with bullets, but with truth, loyalty, and the price of ambition.