The old couple, Hala and Migo, generously allowed Ronaldo to stay with them, welcoming him into their humble eatery. Ronaldo, in turn, diligently helped them run the shop, cleaning tables, assisting with orders, and generally making himself useful. One sunny morning, as Ronaldo was meticulously wiping down a table, old Hala called out to him.
"Ronald, come here!" she shouted from the counter, her voice warm.
"Yes, Grandma, what is it?" Ronaldo replied, drying his hands on his apron and walking towards her.
"We ran out of rice. Can you please buy a sack of rice from the rice granary? It is less expensive there when you buy in bulk," she explained, counting out some coins for him.
"Sure, Grandma!" Ronaldo took the money, grateful for the trust they placed in him, and headed out. The rice granary was located on the outskirts of the kingdom, nestled within a sprawling farm. He walked with a newfound sense of purpose, enjoying the fresh air and the simple errand. He bought a heavy sack of rice, hefting it easily onto his shoulder with his mysteriously enhanced strength.
On his way back, as he navigated through the bustling market place, his eyes happened to fall upon a familiar poster. It was the same "Trial of Triumph" announcement he had seen before. "What if I join this?" he wondered aloud, then his eyes caught a smaller print. "Oh, really? There's a prize!" He leaned closer, reading the entire poster. "Join and become part of the Kingdom's Magic Knights." Ohh, is this the one that I saw from the Guild Station? His mind began to race with possibilities, but his primary concern was getting back to the eatery.
He quickened his pace, the sack of rice bouncing lightly on his shoulder, until he reached the familiar, cozy storefront. "I'm back-!" Ronaldo called out, pushing open the door.
But his words died in his throat. The eatery was in chaos. Tables were overturned, chairs were smashed, and shards of broken pottery littered the floor. Old Hala was lying motionless on the ground, a chilling stillness about her. Old Migo was kneeling beside her, his head bleeding from a gash, cradling Hala in his arms, his face contorted with agony.
"Oh, Ronaldo, come help me! Your grandma is not breathing!" Migo cried, his voice choked with sobs, tears streaming down his weathered face.
Ronaldo was frozen, his mind unable to process the horrific scene. No… not again. This can't be happening. Not Grandma Hala. His heart pounded, a cold dread seizing him.
"Ronaldo!" Grandpaps Migo shouted, snapping him out of his trance.
"Wha-what happened, Grandpaps?" Ronaldo rushed forward, gently taking Grandma Hala's limp form from Migo's trembling arms. He held her close, her body strangely cold.
Hala's eyes flickered open, a faint smile gracing her lips. She weakly raised a hand and held Ronaldo's cheek. "My son," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "take care of yourself. Please don't be reckless and be killed."
Tears began to stream down Ronaldo's face, hot and stinging. "Grandma, don't leave us!" he pleaded, his voice breaking.
Grandpa Migo, wiping his own tears with a bloodied hand, recounted the tragedy, touching Hala's head gently. "It was the Encomienderos," he choked out. "They forced us to pay tribute, and we paid, but they said it's not enough because the tax was new, and it was higher than we could imagine. We don't have any sales, and we can't pay for it. Your grandma is so stubborn; she tried to stop them, and one of the Encomienderos snapped his hands. He hit your grandma, and she landed on the floor, but her head hit the table's corner. I couldn't carry her as no one was willing to help, and the Encomienderos left after they destroyed our shop."
Hala's eyes, though dimming, still held a gentle warmth as she looked at Ronaldo, then at her husband. "I love the both of you. Please, take good care of your grandpa, even though he doesn't seem to like it, but he cares for you deeply." Her hand, still on Ronaldo's cheek, fell limp.
"No, Grandma, please stay with us, pleasee!" Ronaldo cried, clutching her. In that heartbreaking moment, Grandpa Migo and Ronaldo embraced Grandma Hala, holding her close as she left the world, not in peace, but in despair, a victim of senseless cruelty.
Ronaldo slowly laid Grandma Hala down, his body trembling, tears blurring his vision. A cold, burning rage began to build inside him, pushing through the grief. He slowly stood up, his eyes fixed on the devastated eatery, then on Grandpa Migo's bleeding head.
"Where are they!" Ronaldo asked, his voice low, seething with anger.
"What—who?" Grandpa Migo stammered, startled by the sudden shift in Ronaldo's demeanor.
"Those tax collectors!" Ronaldo's voice rose, vibrating with suppressed fury.
"Why, what are you going to do?" Migo asked, concern etched on his face.
"Grandpaps," Ronaldo said, looking Migo straight in the eyes, his own eyes burning with an unfamiliar intensity. Grandpa Migo saw the raw determination in Ronaldo's gaze and, after a moment, submitted.
"Their station is five blocks away from here. If you see a big building, that's where they're stationed," Migo revealed, pointing vaguely in a direction.
"See you, Grandpaps," Ronaldo said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, as he turned and ran.
He ran with a speed he didn't know he possessed, fueled by grief and rage. It took him only a couple of minutes to reach the building of the tax collectors. It was a imposing stone structure, larger and more ostentatious than anything else in the vicinity, a symbol of their authority. Without hesitation, Ronaldo stormed the building, a furious whirlwind of emotion and unbridled power.
"Wind Wild West!" he roared, extending his hands. A devastating gust of wind erupted from him, a concentrated force that smashed the reinforced glass windows, tore the heavy wooden doors from their hinges, and, with a terrifying groan, ripped a section of the roof clean off, exposing the terrified occupants inside to the open sky. Dust, debris, and splintered wood rained down.
"Who killed my grandmother!" Ronaldo bellowed, stepping into the ruined office, his figure silhouetted against the gaping hole in the roof, surrounded by swirling dust and broken furniture.
The tax collectors, cowering amidst the wreckage, looked utterly terrified. "What? What are you talking about? We didn't do anything!" one of them stammered, his face pale.
"I said, who killed my grandmother!" Ronaldo's voice rose again, and the wind inside the building intensified, swirling objects, making the very walls tremble. The entire place began to crumble under the sheer force of his uncontrolled rage.
"We're just merely tax collectors! We didn't do anything!" another man pleaded, clutching his head.
"Those old couple who run the eatery shop! You didn't know them?" Ronaldo grabbed the collar of the nearest tax collector, hoisting him off his feet.
The man choked, "What? It's not the end of the month yet, and we are not collecting any tax right now!"
"What—! And who are those tax collectors that went to my grandmother and grandfather's shop!" Ronaldo snarled, his grip tightening.
The man, gasping for air, managed to force out, "Maybe… maybe it was bandits who disguised as tax collectors!"
"Where are they?!" Ronaldo demanded, shaking him.
"I-I don't know!" the man whimpered. "Hmm—there is a report that these bandits came from the Sunflower Village. It was outside the kingdom, beyond the Western Gate!"
Ronaldo's rage slowly began to subside, replaced by a cold, resolute determination. He released the tax collector, who collapsed to the floor, coughing. "Wahhhhhh! What are you going to do with our building?" another tax collector wailed, looking at the utter destruction.
"Ah-hehehe, I'm sorry!" Ronaldo said awkwardly, realizing the extent of the damage he'd caused.
"Sorry what?! You could have just asked us nicely! Entered the building, not destroying it!" one of the senior tax collectors shouted, furious. "Magic Guard! Magic Guard!" he yelled, attempting to summon aid.
"Ah no-no-sir, I can turn it back!" Ronaldo quickly interjected. He wasn't entirely sure if he could, but the idea of fixing it came to mind, and with it, the familiar system prompt.
The tax collectors turned to him, curiously grim-faced. Ronaldo raised his hand, focusing intensely on the memory of Francis's ability. "Time Reverse!" he commanded. A soft, green glow enveloped the wreckage, and to the utter astonishment of everyone present, the shattered glass reformed, the splintered wood knitted itself back together, and the ripped roof slowly, miraculously, floated back into place, merging seamlessly with the building. In moments, the structure was restored to its original state, as if the destruction had never happened.
Across the street, hidden in the shadows of another store, Francis Lubraunth had witnessed the entire spectacle. His eyes widened in disbelief. That's my power! How did he…?!
"Hey!" Francis shouted, stepping out from his hiding spot.
"Me?" Ronaldo replied, turning, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
"Yes, you! When we tested out our magic type, the results of yours were nothing! You don't have power! How did you do that, huh?!" Francis demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion.
"Oh no!" Ronaldo whistled to himself. He recognized it. "Are you that time guy?"
"Yes, it's me! And what you just did is my power! There's only one Time Magic user in this world! How could that be possible, huh?" Francis pressed, taking a step closer.
"Hmmm, let me explain first," Ronaldo said, his mind racing for a plausible explanation. He glanced back at the restored tax collector's building. "Could we talk in some other place? Please, follow me." He needed a more private space to explain his unique situation.
Ronaldo turned and headed back towards the eatery. He pushed open the familiar door to find Grandpa Migo sitting amidst the wreckage, quietly crying as he organized Grandma Hala's few belongings for her burial.
"What happened here?" Francis asked, his voice softer now, seeing the devastation.
"I'll explain to you later," Ronaldo said, his voice heavy with grief. "Just let me first help my grandpa bury my grandma."
Without another word, Grandpaps Migo and Ronaldo began the somber preparations for Grandma Hala's burial, while Francis stood by, a silent, uncharacteristic observer.
They carefully placed Grandma Hala's coffin on a cartwheel, a simple wooden contraption, and slowly pushed it towards a nearby mountain, a quiet place overlooking the kingdom where the dead were laid to rest. The journey was somber, punctuated only by the creaking of the cart and the soft crunch of their footsteps. At the chosen spot, they gently lowered the coffin into the earth. Grandpa Migo cried openly, his shoulders shaking with grief, and Ronaldo, too, wept, his heart aching with a profound sense of loss. Francis stood respectfully in the background, feeling awkward and out of place, but he paid his respects, his usual cold demeanor softened by the raw emotion before him.
"I'm heading first, Ronaldo. I'm tired. I'm going back to clean our shop," Migo said, his voice hoarse with sorrow.
"Sure, Grandpaps, I'll follow you," Ronaldo replied, his gaze still fixed on the freshly dug earth. After Migo slowly walked away, Ronaldo bent down and cried heavily, letting the tears flow freely. "You took good care of me, even if I'm not your real son," he sobbed, the words aching in his chest.
Francis looked straightforward at Ronaldo, having overheard his tearful admission. He remained silent, allowing Ronaldo his moment of profound grief. "I'm sorry, Grandma, I couldn't defend you. Who's gonna cook my favorite dinuguan now, Grandma, whuhuhu?" he whispered, his body shaking with sobs. Silence prevailed, broken only by the cold breeze that whispered through the mountain graveyard. Only two figures remained in the solemn place: Francis and Ronaldo.
After that solemn grieving, Ronaldo stood up, wiping his eyes, and finally turned to Francis. "My grandmother died because of those bandits who pretended to be tax collectors, and I stormed into the tax collector's building, thinking it was them."
"Then how do you use Time Magic?" Francis asked, his expression serious, cutting straight to the point.
"It's not that I have Time Magic as my inherent skill, but I have a skill that can copy anyone's power," Ronaldo explained, looking at Francis.
"What!" Francis was shocked, his refined features contorted in disbelief. "But why, in the orb, did it say you don't have power?"
"Yes, I really don't have an inherent power, because these powers aren't mine after all," Ronaldo admitted. "And during that time, I only had two copied skills."
"What were they?" Francis pressed, intrigued.
Ronaldo demonstrated, holding out his palm. "The one that you saw in the tax collector's building—that's 'Wild Wind West'."
"Then what's the other one?" Francis asked.
Ronaldo extended his other palm, and a tiny, transparent flame flickered into existence just above it.
"Where?" Francis leaned closer, squinting.
"Just touch above my palm," Ronaldo instructed.
Francis cautiously extended a finger and touched the air above Ronaldo's palm. "Aw! That's hot!" he exclaimed, quickly retracting his hand.
"Yeah, I know. That's just a small fraction of it. I can even burn the clouds," Ronaldo said, a hint of pride in his voice despite the solemn circumstances. "Then why do you have my power?"
"Well, I kinda copied the powers inside the orbs, and you were the last to touch it," Ronaldo explained, a sheepish grin on his face.
"What did you say!" Francis repeated, his voice incredulous.
"I said I copied the power inside the orbs," Ronaldo clarified.
"How?"
"It's just that's my sole ability," Ronaldo shrugged.
"Then you copy everything?" Francis probed, his mind racing with the implications.
"No, I just copied to how long i touched the orb," Ronaldo elaborated, explaining the system he had discovered.
"Wow, that's great!" Francis reacted, his awe evident. "The one that you used with the Time Magic that's even more powerful than mine, because it reversed the damage!"
"Ehehe, you're not angry?" Ronaldo asked, surprised by Francis's lack of hostility.
"Nope, I don't mind it," Francis replied, a rare smile gracing his lips. "After all, this power isn't mine either; it was just passed to me by my great-great-grandfather. What are you planning to do now?"
"I'm just going to find who killed my grandma. I'm going after them. The tax collector told me they lived in Sunflower Village," Ronaldo stated, his determination hardening.
"Oh, that's great! I can accompany you there, you know. I travel a lot outside towns and villages here in our kingdom, so I know the way around," Francis offered, a genuine interest in his eyes.
"Is that okay for you?" Ronaldo asked, surprised by the noble's willingness to help.
"Yeah, sure! That's what I like, traveling, ahahahaha," Francis laughed, a light, genuine sound that dispelled his previous cold demeanor.
"I thought you were a cold, bratty guy," Ronaldo chuckled.
"What, me? Ahahahaha, no, I'm not! It's just I hate interacting with lowly people," Francis said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"So I'm not like them?" Ronaldo asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeahh, I can feel your powerful aura, more powerful than me, even though I'm an Alpha-Omega magic-born," Francis admitted, a flicker of professional respect in his gaze.