The Trash Guide Awakens: The Youngest General's Hidden Wife

The replacement diagnostic chamber was fully prepared less than an hour later within the flagship’s high-security medical bay. This time, the academy’s senior medical team had brought an entirely different scanning platform from the flagship’s reserve military storage.

The newly installed platform was noticeably newer, sleeker, and powered by an independent energy core. It was specifically engineered by imperial engineers to measure and contain the vast mental capacity of high-ranking Guides and Sentinels without crashing.

Three senior technicians stood behind a thick wall of reinforced observation glass, their fingers flying across glowing diagnostic arrays. Rhaevia stepped calmly onto the circular metallic platform, her expression entirely relaxed as the heavy bay doors sealed shut behind her.

The lead technician adjusted his high-grade optical interface, his voice projecting clearly through the chamber’s internal intercom system.

”Please remain completely still, Cadet Rythundeir,” he instructed, his tone laced with nervous professionalism.

Rhaevia offered a silent nod, keeping her arms relaxed at her sides.

The machine activated with a deep, vibrating hum that echoed through the reinforced deck plates. A soft, blue-white light descended directly from the ceiling array, sweeping down her body and probing gently into her neural pathways.

For several seconds, nothing unusual occurred within the sealed testing bay. The baseline diagnostic sweep ran its standard protocols, checking physical density and neural responsiveness.

Then, the central holographic display floating above the observation glass flickered into life.

[Mental Power Analysis Initiated.]

A detailed numerical scale appeared on the primary monitor, ticking upward from absolute zero. The initial reading stabilized almost immediately.

[E-Rank.]

Behind the observation window, the three technicians exchanged brief, visibly relieved glances. One of them let out a quiet sigh, tapping his console.

”There,” the junior technician whispered, adjusting his glasses. ”The replacement platform is functioning properly, and her baseline matches her official academy intake record.”

Inside the scanning ring, Rhaevia stared directly at the floating blue letters. E-rank. That was the exact classification the original body’s official records had always reflected.

Yet, deep within her soul, she knew far better now.

She remembered the smooth black crystal half-buried in the alien dirt of Planet V-17. She remembered the raspy, ancient voice echoing through the dark void of her mind. She remembered the violent surge of raw energy that had shattered her internal barriers.

Something profound had permanently awakened inside her physical frame, and it refused to remain hidden.

The diagnostic scanner suddenly emitted a low, continuous electronic hum as its internal sensors detected a subtle shift. The blue light surrounding Rhaevia’s body brightened, shifting toward a brilliant indigo.

The displayed classification on the central monitor flickered once and updated.

[D-Rank.]

The lead technician straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing as he tapped the control panel.

”Increase scanning intensity to secondary frequency,” he commanded flatly. ”Continue the analysis.”

The machine intensified its energy output, the blue light spinning faster around the circular pedestal.

[C-Rank.]

The quiet observation room fell completely silent as the reading bypassed standard Guide parameters. The technicians stopped whispering, their gazes glued to the rising numerical ledger.

Then, without a single second of hesitation, the display jumped again.

[B-Rank.]

The technicians stared at one another in total, breathless shock.

”That simply cannot be right,” the second technician stammered, his fingers trembling over his keyboard as he checked for software glitches. ”An individual’s mental rank is fixed at birth! It doesn’t climb sequentially during a live scan!”

The machine ignored his disbelief, automatically increasing its scanning intensity to compensate for the sudden influx of mental pressure.

[A-Rank.]

Rhaevia’s dark eyes narrowed into thin, sharp slits as she stood at the center of the pedestal. She could physically feel the change happening deep within her chest.

Something massive was moving just beneath the surface of her conscious mind. A vast, nearly bottomless reservoir of mental energy was actively responding to the machine’s probing sensors, expanding outward like a floodgate opening.

This is definitely not normal, she realized silently, analyzing her own physical reactions.

In her previous life on apocalyptic Earth, she had possessed formidable combat experience, physical mastery, and strategic genius, but she had never held supernatural energy. Her strength had come entirely from grueling training, tactical positioning, and sheer, stubborn determination.

Yet this young noble body contained a hidden power that defied logical explanation.

The diagnostic platform suddenly emitted a sharp, high-pitched warning tone that pierced the heavy silence of the medical bay. Bright yellow alert banners began flashing along the top border of the observation window.

[WARNING: RAPID MENTAL POWER ASCENSION DETECTED.]

The central holographic display flashed violently between red and white text. The blue light filling the chamber transformed into a blinding, radiant gold.

Then, a final, definitive classification materialized in bold letters.

[S-RANK.]

The observation room immediately erupted into a chaotic storm of stunned, terrified whispers.

”S-rank?” the lead technician gasped, gripping the edge of his console so hard his knuckles turned white. ”How is this possible?”

”An E-rank trash Guide from the capital just climbed directly to S-rank in under thirty seconds!” another technician yelled, pointing wildly at the primary readout. ”This is completely impossible!”

Rhaevia remained completely motionless atop the circular platform, her posture perfectly erect.

Internally, however, her thoughts were racing at maximum speed.

I didn’t actively train for this sudden surge, she analyzed calmly. I didn’t consciously trigger an activation sequence or execute a technique.

Why is my mental power continuing to rise exponentially simply because an external machine is attempting to measure it?

Before she could form a working hypothesis, the medical scanner screamed aloud.

BZZZZT!

A harsh, grating alarm echoed through the entire medical wing as every light fixture in the chamber flickered erratically. The clean holographic display distorted into an unintelligible mass of static and jagged red lines.

The air inside the sealed chamber grew dense and suffocatingly hot, smelling strongly of ionized ozone.

CRACK!

With a sharp, explosive pop of fried conduits, the entire military diagnostic platform shut down completely.

The testing chamber instantly plunged into deep, silent darkness, lit only by the pale red emergency backup strip on the floor. Thin wisps of dark gray smoke curled lazily from the overhead scanning array.

The chief technician stared blankly through the glass at the dead system, his jaw completely slack.

”No...” he whispered, his voice shaking visibly.

He scrambled forward, frantically hitting manual override keys on his dark control board. ”Not again! This unit was rated for high-level Sentinel evaluations!”

The junior technician rushed over to inspect the hardware diagnostics, his face drained of all color. ”The main processor core is completely melted! The machine must have been defective from the start!”

”Defective?” the chief technician barked back, turning on him angrily. ”This is a flagship military-grade diagnostic platform fresh from the flagship’s primary vault!”

”Then something in her biological signature must have severely corrupted its calibration sequence!” the junior technician insisted, gesturing toward the dark chamber.

Inside the glass room, Rhaevia said absolutely nothing.

Her slender fingers slowly curled into tight fists at her sides.

Defective machinery? She wasn’t convinced by their desperate rationalizations for even a single second.

She could still feel it lingering deep within the core of her soul. Something vast, ancient, and terrifyingly powerful sat dormant within her mind, something that had not yet fully awakened.

Outside, the flustered medical team hurriedly began preparing a third replacement machine, pulling a specialized prototype unit from the flagship’s deepest research vault.

Rhaevia watched their frantic, disorganized movements through the glass in absolute silence. If the first platform had truly failed because of a random mechanical malfunction, perhaps this ultimate backup scanner would prove the truth once and for all.

A few agonizing minutes later, the new, ultra-high-grade scanner hummed to life with a quiet, dangerous power. Blue light once again flooded the sealed chamber, surrounding her body in a dense sphere of energy.

The primary holographic screen above the glass flickered once, bypassing all lower ranks entirely.

The technicians behind the glass froze instantly, their hands hovering uselessly above their controls. Inside the chamber, Rhaevia’s dark pupils contracted sharply into tiny points.

The floating display did not show a rank letter, but a single line of glowing gold text:

[MENTAL POWER: UNCLASSIFIABLE.]

The silence that followed was suffocating. The chief technician dropped his datapad onto the floor, the heavy plastic shattering against the tiles, but no one in the room even bothered to look down.

Before anyone could process the impossible metric, the heavy hydraulic doors of the medical suite slid open with a sharp, pneumatic hiss.

Major General Raevor Veyr stepped into the observation room, his pristine dark uniform cutting a commanding figure under the harsh emergency lights. His piercing gaze swept past the frozen, pale technicians and locked directly onto Rhaevia through the reinforced glass.

”Explain the reading,” Raevor ordered, his deep, resonant voice effortlessly cutting through the dead quiet.

The chief technician swallowed hard, bowing his head in pure panic. ”Major General! The system... the system cannot establish a numerical limit for Cadet Rythundeir’s mental capacity! Her energy signature bypasses all standard imperial benchmarks!”

Raevor didn’t express surprise. Instead, he stepped closer to the glass, his dark eyes fixed entirely on Rhaevia as his own 3S Sentinel instincts hummed in violent, undeniable recognition.

Inside the glass box, Rhaevia met his intense gaze without a single trace of fear, offering him a cool, unbothered smirk.

”It seems your top-tier military technology has its limits after all, Major General,” she remarked softly, her clear voice carrying through the intercom.

Raevor’s lips thinned into a strict, dangerous line as he tapped his comm-link interface to lock down the room’s data feeds.

”Classify these results as a Level One Strategic Secret immediately,” he commanded his staff coldly. ”If a single word of this evaluation leaks outside this bay, I will personally see to your court-martial.”

He then pressed the intercom button, his dark eyes searching Rhaevia’s face. ”Your evaluation is finished, Cadet. Walk with me.”

Rhaevia stepped off the dark platform as the glass doors slid open, her dark eyes glittering with quiet amusement. The game of hiding her true existence was officially over, and the real storm was about to begin