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

”Is there anyone else?”

Rhaevia’s question echoed clearly across the silent, multi-tiered training arena. For several seconds, nobody in the massive facility moved or dared to breathe.

Then, a sudden roar of outrage broke the silence.

”I will fight her!” a tall, heavily built student shouted, vaulting over the observation railing and landing heavily on the lower combat platform. ”I am an A-rank physical enhancement user!”

Before the instructors could intervene, another cadet immediately stepped forward from the challenger gate. ”Then I am next in line!”

”I will challenge her as well!” a third voice yelled, drawing his training weapon.

Within moments, the entire Combat Department erupted into absolute chaos. The pride of the academy’s elite students had been deeply wounded.

One celebrated S-rank prodigy had just been ruthlessly dismantled and slammed into the dirt in less than ten seconds, right in front of thousands of spectators. Nobody wanted to be the next person who admitted an allegedly weak, E-rank freshman could effortlessly defeat them.

The first challenger rushed forward across the reinforced tiles. Unlike Kael, he did not charge recklessly into her personal space. He maintained a strict five-meter distance and launched three compressed mental blades sweeping directly toward Rhaevia’s chest.

Rhaevia watched the glowing energy projectiles approach with completely flat, unbothered eyes. She shifted her weight half a step sideways.

The first mental blade missed her shoulder by a millimeter. Then the second blade zipped uselessly past her hip. The third razor-sharp arc passed within centimeters of her neck, cutting only empty air.

She did not counterattack immediately. Instead, she simply continued moving in a slow, deliberate circle.

The cadet frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. ”What on earth are you doing?”

Rhaevia suddenly brought her feet to a complete halt. The cadet’s eyes widened in realization a fraction of a second too late. She had deliberately positioned her body directly beneath the arena’s overhead, reinforced sensor barrier array.

He understood her tactical calculation far too late to recall his attack. His next compressed mental blade struck the hard, reflective surface of the sensor barrier. The dense energy rebounded backward along the exact trajectory it had arrived.

BOOM!

The reflected shockwave struck the challenger directly in the chest, throwing him violently onto his back across the platform.

The surrounding spectators stared in utter, breathless shock.

”She used the physical architecture of the environment against him!” a student gasped.

Before the fallen cadet could even recover his breath, Rhaevia had already casually walked past his prone figure.

The second challenger attacked the moment she crossed the center line. He was a trained close-combat specialist, launching a sweeping low kick aimed at her ankles. Rhaevia ducked gracefully over the arc.

A heavy, reinforced fist immediately followed toward her collarbone. She stepped smoothly inside the arc of his arm. An elbow strike whipped toward her ribs. She rotated her torso seamlessly. A knee strike rose toward her midsection. She shifted her hip two inches to the left.

Every single dodge placed her somewhere advantageous while exhausting his momentum. Then, with a fluid flick of her boot, she hooked her toe behind his planted ankle.

The cadet’s own massive forward momentum carried him off balance. He crashed face-first onto the hard combat mat with a heavy thud.

The observation stands went completely silent once again.

A third challenger entered the ring. Then a fourth. Then a fifth.

One opponent specialized in long-range mental blasts. Another relied on heavy, defensive kinetic barriers. Another utilized high-speed footwork. Another attempted to overwhelm her with coordinated, multi-directional feints.

Not a single cadet succeeded.

Rhaevia did not attempt to overpower any of them with raw energy. She studied their stances. She identified their subtle physical habits.

She manipulated combat distance. She exploited the arena terrain. She consistently forced her opponents into attacking positions that directly benefited her counter-angles.

And every single time they foolishly believed they had cornered her, she effortlessly turned the entire situation against them.

Along the sidelines, the veteran faculty instructors gradually stopped viewing her as an extraordinary or lucky Guide. Their strict expressions became increasingly, deeply serious.

”This is definitely not normal academy combat instruction,” one teacher whispered, his hands trembling slightly against his clipboard.

”No,” another veteran combat instructor agreed, his eyes glued to her precise footwork. ”She is reading the entire battlefield in real time. She is predicting their full attack patterns long before the physical movement is even completed.”

The chief combat instructor’s face tightened into a grim line. ”Those are absolutely not martial techniques taught anywhere within our standard curriculum.”

He watched in awe as Rhaevia redirected another charging opponent directly into the hard energy barrier. ”That is pure, battle-forged instinct.”

The chilling realization sent a strange, uncomfortable thrill through every instructor present. This young woman was not fighting like a talented noble student competing for marks.

She was fighting like a hardened survivor who had experienced brutal combat where a single microsecond of hesitation meant gruesome death.

High above the arena floor, standing behind the thick, one-way observation glass of the executive box, Major General Raevor Veyr stood completely silent. He had not intervened in the proceedings even once.

His dark, unblinking eyes followed every single micro-movement Rhaevia made across the platform. Throughout his distinguished career, he had seen millions of imperial soldiers fight.

He had commanded sprawling star fleets. He had survived brutal planetary wars that had consumed entire star systems.

And yet, watching Rhaevia move awakened an unsettling, profound familiarity deep within his soul. It was not a familiarity with her physical techniques or academy style, but with her fundamental instincts.

She did not fight to win points, display rank, or gain glory. She fought purely to survive and eliminate threats.

Raevor’s strict expression slowly hardened into cold steel. His piercing gaze remained fixed entirely on the young woman standing alone at the center of the ring, surrounded by a ring of defeated challengers.

The ultimate realization finally settled heavily into his mind:

She fights like someone who has survived a war.