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

The crimson, compound eyes stared directly into Rhaevia’s soul, unblinking and devoid of human warmth.

For one suffocating, silent heartbeat, neither human nor monster moved a single muscle.

Then, with an explosive burst of kinetic force, the creature lunged forward.

BOOM!

The ancient pedestal beneath its feet shattered into thousands of jagged obsidian shards.

Rhaevia’s body reacted purely on battlefield instinct long before her conscious thoughts could formulate a plan. She twisted her torso sideways, feeling the razor-thin wind as a long, pale claw swept through the exact space where her head had been a fraction of a second prior.

The sharp appendage struck the seamless obsidian floor behind her, carving a deep, smoking trench directly through the seemingly indestructible material.

She gritted her teeth, adjusting her footing on the slick floor. The creature’s agility and raw physical speed were entirely too fast for standard human reaction times.

Rhaevia immediately counterattacked without a moment’s hesitation.

Her plasma rifle discharged at absolute point-blank range, blinding the dark chamber in a flash of blue energy.

BOOM!

The superheated, concentrated energy bolt struck the creature directly in the center of its chest cavity.

Instead of piercing its pale flesh or burning through its chest, the plasma blast instantly dispersed against a dense, shimmering layer of crimson energy surrounding its skin.

The creature barely moved, taking the full brunt of the military-grade weapon without staggering a single inch.

Rhaevia’s expression hardened into pure, unforgiving steel.

”Its defensive barrier is stronger than a standard military-grade combat shield,” she observed softly, her voice flat and analytical despite the life-or-death situation.

The creature slowly turned its elongated head toward her, its pale neck joints popping softly in the quiet room.

Its glowing crimson eyes remained completely calm, devoid of the mindless, frenzied rage typical of lower-tier monsters. There was no animalistic rage, no wild thrashing, and no mindless snapping of mandibles.

It was carefully watching her. It was calculating her movements, analyzing her posture, and measuring her combat capability.

Then, it attacked again.

Rhaevia ducked gracefully beneath a sweeping claw strike, rolled across the hard floor, and fired three consecutive plasma shots toward its knee joints.

The creature fluidly sidestepped to avoid the first blast. It raised its forearm to block the second, the energy dissipating uselessly against its crimson field. And then, with terrifying precision, it casually caught the third plasma bolt with its bare hand.

The concentrated plasma flickered between its pale, elongated fingers for a microsecond before completely disappearing into its skin.

Rhaevia’s dark pupils contracted into sharp points.

”Intelligent,” she muttered, adjusting her combat stance.

This entity was not merely a mindless biological weapon or an unthinking monster. It understood high-level combat tactics, spatial geometry, and energy absorption. More importantly, it clearly understood her specific movements and anticipated her line of sight.

Before she could adjust her footing, the creature vanished from her line of sight and appeared directly before her. Rhaevia barely managed to raise her heavy energy rifle horizontally to block the incoming strike.

CLANG!

The sheer physical impact of the blow sent her flying backward through the air like a ragdoll.

Her body slammed against the far wall hard enough to crack the ancient black alloy, the force ringing through her teeth. Pain exploded across her ribs as she slid down the wall and dropped heavily onto one knee, gasping for air.

The creature did not rush in to execute her. Instead, it approached at a slow, measured walk.

Rhaevia used her sleeve to calmly wipe a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. Her dark eyes grew colder, locking onto the entity.

”You’re strong,” she remarked, her voice steady despite the sharp pain in her chest.

The creature tilted its head slightly, its pale face strangely emotionless.

Then, its thin, seamless lips parted.

A distorted, raspy voice emerged from deep within its vocal cords, vibrating with ancient static.

”King,” it rasped.

Rhaevia froze completely, her breathing catching in her throat.

It was the exact same word. The exact same title she had heard from the commanding Zerg on the surface of Planet V-17.

Her heartbeat stopped for half a second as her mind raced.

”King...” she repeated silently to herself.

Memories suddenly flashed through her mind in a chaotic, blinding storm. She remembered hundreds of crimson eyes in the dark, swarms of Zerg kneeling on the scorched earth, and the ancient voice calling her that title.

She remembered the Zombie King’s final, cryptic words before her death on Earth, and now this ancient, unclassifiable entity standing before her in a subterranean facility.

The disjointed pieces of the puzzle suddenly connected in her mind.

Rhaevia slowly stood up straight, pushing through the dull ache in her ribs.

”You...” she began, her tone laced with realization.

Her gaze shifted away from the creature for a second, sweeping across the glowing symbols and ancient architecture of the facility surrounding them.

”The Zerg swarms weren’t simply gathering on Planet V-17 by random chance or basic animal migration,” she stated, her dark eyes returning to the creature.

The entity remained silent, its crimson eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

Rhaevia’s analytical mind processed the variables at lightning speed. The abnormal Zerg population density across the sector, their synchronized military maneuvers during the night attack.

The corrupted energy cores embedded within their chests, the Zerg commander recognizing her soul, the smooth black crystal buried in the dirt, this ancient subterranean complex, and the Sovereign-class system that had awakened the exact second she stepped inside.

None of those events were separate, isolated incidents. They were all interconnected threads of a single, massive design.

The Zerg swarms on the surface had been responding to something deep beneath the planet’s crust. They were reacting to a signal originating directly from this facility, a beacon that had been waiting dormant for centuries.

It had been waiting for her.

Rhaevia tightened her grip around the frame of her rifle, her posture returning to a flawless combat stance.

”You’ve been waiting for me this entire time,” she said, her voice dropping into a low, firm declaration.

The creature’s brilliant crimson eyes brightened, pulsing with a deep energy.

For the first time since it had emerged from the pod, its emotionless face subtly changed.

It smiled.

It was not a human smile, but something far colder, far more ancient, and deeply unnerving. It was the smile of an entity that had waited through centuries of cold darkness for a single moment.

It took a single, deliberate step closer to her.

Then, in a raspy, echoing voice filled with unmistakable, horrifying recognition, it spoke once more.

”The King remembers you,” it whispered.

Rhaevia’s blood ran cold.

The King remembers you. The words hung heavily in the air between them, signaling that the ancient shadow hanging over her past life on Earth was far from over, and her true fight in this interstellar era had only just begun.