Five years passed since Eduardo's rebirth into this unfamiliar but old world. It became clear quickly that he was no longer in the Philippines of the 21st century the one he had died protecting.
Instead, he had been born into the twilight years of Spanish colonial rule.
The year was 1880.
A turbulent era only two decades before the revolution that would ignite Filipino nationalism. Tension simmered beneath the surface: economic hardship, political unrest, widespread inequality, and the growing stirrings of resistance.
Yet Eduardo's life was nothing like that of the common Filipino.
He had been born the first son of the de Alvarado family, a wealthy and influential principalia clan in the province of Laguna. His father, Don Alejandro de Alvarado, was a landowner with ties to both the Spanish colonial government and local military officers.
His family's wealth came from producing hemp, sugar, and exporting timber industries that thrived under Spanish oversight. The de Alvarados were not nobility in the European sense, but among Filipinos, they ranked close to it: rich, powerful, and educated.
But Eduardo's ambitions extended far beyond the boundaries of Laguna or even the archipelago.
He held the memories of a soldier from the future.
He knew what tragedies awaited this land the failed reform movements, the executions, the revolution, the war with America, the brutal pacification campaigns, and the decades of foreign domination.
His goal was not merely to inherit land.
He wanted to change the fate of the Philippines entirely.
Thus, he used his childhood wisely. From the moment he could walk, he studied relentlessly books on philosophy, Spanish law, military treatises, even church texts. He learned Spanish fluently, mastered arithmetic, and displayed maturity no five-year-old should possess.
His intelligence stunned the entire household.
Whispers spread from servants to priests to visiting officials. Soon, Eduardo's reputation as a young prodigy reached towns far beyond their province.
But such brilliance drew danger as well.
Jealousy festered not from nobles or Spanish officials, but from someone closer.
His cousin Ramon, only two years older, despised him.
Ramon belonged to another branch of the de Alvarado clan a child raised spoiled, praised, and convinced he would inherit the most land. But once Eduardo's talents became the talk of the province, Ramon's pride cracked.
Today proved no different.
As Eduardo left the library carrying a stack of Spanish and Latin texts, Ramon deliberately stuck out his foot.
Eduardo fell, books scattered across the wooden floor. Thin scratches streaked his knees, but the pain barely registered. In his past life, bullets had torn through his chest scrapes meant nothing now.
Calm, he stood, dusted off his clothes, and began picking up his books.
His indifference only infuriated Ramon further.
"You act like you're better than me," Ramon hissed. He shoved Eduardo again, harder this time.
Eduardo simply rose again, expression cold and unbothered.
To Ramon, this was not maturity it was insult.
He grabbed Eduardo by the collar, raising his fist.
"You're a fake genius! A stupid baby pretending"
"Young master Eduardo!"
Both boys froze.
A servant woman, Aling Rosa, hurried toward them. Ramon immediately stepped back, pretending he had been helping Eduardo the entire time.
"Tita Rosa! He fell," Ramon lied, voice trembling with fake concern.
But Rosa ignored him entirely. Kneeling before Eduardo, she spoke in a tone she reserved only for messages from the master of the house.
"Your father requests your presence in his study at once. It is most urgent."
Eduardo nodded. She clasped his hand, guiding him away. As she walked, she called behind her:
"Later, young master Ramon. I will tend to you next time."
Ramon's face twisted with anger and humiliation.
Inside his father's study, Eduardo found not just his parents but guests.
A distinguished Spanish officer in a decorated military uniform stood beside Don Alejandro. A beautiful woman sat beside him, and between them was a young girl, perhaps a year younger than Eduardo.
Eduardo bowed deeply, using the etiquette drilled into him as a child.
"Honored father, esteemed Captain, I have come as requested. May I know the purpose of this summons?"
The officer twirled his thick mustache, observing Eduardo with surprise and approval.
"Astonishing manners," he muttered. "For a criollo-Filipino family, your son behaves with the grace of a young caballero."
The man was no ordinary officer Eduardo could see it clearly. This was someone of old Spanish blood, perhaps with noble lineage from Madrid. His gaze toward Eduardo's father was tinged with superiority the kind aristocrats held toward colonial elites.
But Eduardo had no interest in the general's pride.
His eyes briefly shifted toward the girl.
She hid behind her mother's skirt the moment he looked at her. She had pale skin, light brown hair braided neatly, and soft hazel eyes. A doll-like child shy, timid, raised in privilege and protection.
If Eduardo truly had the mind of a five-year-old, he might have blushed.
But he was a grown man inside. He barely cared.
Then came the words he did not expect.
The Spanish officer stepped forward and declared:
"Don Alejandro… I accept your offer. Your son, Eduardo de Alvarado, shall be engaged to my youngest daughter."