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

The phrase ”The King remembers you” echoed through Rhaevia’s mind. The words vibrated through her neural pathways like a physical strike.

BOOM!

Something deep inside her consciousness shattered into a million pieces. The ancient subterranean chamber vanished in an instant, its obsidian walls dissolving into nothingness. The strange, pale creature disappeared, and even her own body seemed to dissolve into an endless dark void.

Rhaevia found herself standing somewhere else entirely.

Intense heat pressed hard against her skin. The surrounding air smelled overwhelmingly of iron blood, bitter ash, and burning flesh.

She knew this place. Her dark pupils contracted sharply into tiny points.

A ruined battlefield stretched endlessly beneath a blood-red sky. Mountains of human and monster corpses covered the cracked, scorched earth, while thousands of motionless undead creatures stood silently across the horizon.

And directly before her stood the Zombie King.

Its enormous skeletal body towered over the battlefield like a mountain of death, clad in dark, jagged armor. Crimson energy burned like miniature suns within the empty sockets of its skull.

Rhaevia’s hand instinctively reached downward toward her side. She searched for the familiar hilt of her steel broadsword. Her sword. It was the same weapon she had carried during the final battle of her previous life.

”This is the apocalypse,” she whispered.

She remembered this moment. She had stood on this very soil, fought this monstrous entity, and killed it before dying alongside her people.

But something was fundamentally wrong with the scene unfolding before her eyes.

Rhaevia slowly lowered her hand, staring down at her pale fingers. She wasn’t holding her steel broadsword, nor was she wearing her torn, blood-stained military uniform from Earth.

Instead, she was wearing the pristine, silver-trimmed academy uniform of her current interstellar life. Her breathing abruptly stopped.

”No,” she breathed, her mind racing.

This wasn’t a standard memory. At least, it couldn’t possibly be one.

The Zombie King slowly raised its massive skeletal head. Its glowing crimson eyes locked directly onto hers.

Then, it spoke.

It did not communicate through telepathy, nor did it use the distorted, guttural roar she remembered from Earth’s final hours. It spoke clearly, smoothly, and almost calmly.

”You will return,” the monster declared.

Rhaevia’s entire body went deathly rigid.

”What?” she demanded, taking a cautious step back.

The Zombie King slowly extended one enormous, armor-clad skeletal hand toward her.

”You will return,” its deep voice echoed across the burning wasteland. ”You will cross the boundary between death and life.”

Rhaevia stumbled backward, her heels catching on the cracked earth. ”That’s impossible.”

She remembered the final battle with terrifying clarity. She remembered driving her blade straight through its skull, watching its massive body collapse, and feeling her own life fade away.

There had been no conversation like this. There had been no prophecy, no warning, and no discussion of returning.

The Zombie King’s skeletal jaw curved into a dark smile.

”You have forgotten,” it rasped.

The entire ruined battlefield suddenly fractured beneath Rhaevia’s feet like brittle glass. Cracks of blinding crimson light spread rapidly across the ground.

The endless undead army vanished into thin air. The blood-red sky collapsed downward, plunging everything into absolute darkness.

Rhaevia frantically reached forward into the void.

”Wait!” she yelled.

The Zombie King’s final, lingering words followed her into the dark abyss.

”The King remembers what you cannot.”

BOOM!

Rhaevia’s eyes snapped open in the physical world.

She gasped violently, clutching her chest as cold air rushed into her lungs. Her vision was blurred, taking several agonizing seconds to adjust.

Cold metal deck plates. Bright, sanitized white lights. The distinct, familiar scent of military-grade disinfectant hung heavy in the air. And someone was holding her.

Rhaevia instinctively tensed her muscles, struggling against the firm grip.

”Easy,” a deep, smooth voice commanded softly.

The familiar, authoritative tone immediately halted her movement. Her vision slowly focused, taking in a dark blue military uniform, a silver insignia, and a stern, handsome face.

Major General Raevor Veyr.

The youngest Major General in the Empire was holding her firmly against his chest, one arm supporting her back while his other hand steadied her trembling shoulders. His usually cold, unreadable expression was visibly tense.

”Rhaevia,” he said softly, his dark eyes searching hers.

She stared up at him in disbelief. ”Major General...?”

Raevor’s dark eyes scanned her pale face for any sign of lasting trauma. ”You collapsed.”

Rhaevia’s breathing remained uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

She looked past his broad shoulder, taking in their sterile surroundings. The ancient subterranean facility was gone, replaced by the interior of a high-tech military medical chamber aboard the flagship.

Yet, the haunting words remained burned into the deepest corners of her mind. You will return.

For the very first time since transmigrating into this interstellar era, Rhaevia realized a chilling truth. Someone else might have known about her second life long before she ever did.

Raevor carefully shifted his grip, supporting her weight without crowding her space. He could feel the residual, chaotic waves of her mental power pulsing erratically against his own 3S Sentinel pathways.

”Your mental pathways experienced a severe spike,” Raevor stated, his voice dropping into a low register. ”What did you see while you were unconscious?”

Rhaevia looked directly into his dark, piercing eyes, forcing her expression back into a cool mask.

”I saw a nightmare from a lifetime ago, General,” she replied smoothly. She pushed herself back slightly to stand on her own feet.

Raevor did not immediately release his hold on her arm, his thumb lightly pressing against her wrist pulse. ”In my experience, Cadet, nightmares that shatter diagnostic systems are rarely just dreams.”

”Then perhaps you should upgrade your diagnostic systems,” Rhaevia offered. A faint, dark smirk returned to her lips.

In her previous life, she had faced apocalyptic armies without flinching and commanded humanity’s final survivors while civilization burned to ash.

Yet somehow, answering this man’s questions felt infinitely more dangerous than any physical battlefield. Her dark, unblinking eyes remained locked with Raevor’s piercing gaze.

”Don’t ask me,” she stated simply.

Her voice was remarkably calm. It was devoid of anger or defensive agitation, carrying an absolute boundary that permitted no further intrusion.

Raevor studied her pale face, searching her unreadable expression for a long moment.

For a brief second, Rhaevia fully expected another probing question or a formal military order. Instead, the formidable Major General slowly withdrew his suffocating mental pressure, allowing the surrounding air to settle.

”I won’t,” Raevor replied flatly, his deep voice devoid of accusation.

Rhaevia’s dark eyes flickered subtly, caught slightly off guard by his immediate compliance.

Raevor turned his towering frame toward the long corridor ahead, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the deck plates.

”Not until you decide you are ready to tell me yourself,” he added over his shoulder.

She stood motionless, staring at his dark blue military back in quiet surprise.

That answer was entirely unexpected coming from a man accustomed to absolute obedience.

”You aren’t going to launch a formal intelligence investigation into my background?” she asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

Raevor paused his stride slightly, glancing back with a sharp glint in his dark eyes.

”I know with certainty that you are hiding something monumental,” he stated.

He turned his head back toward the hallway, continuing his walk. ”But forcing a confession from someone whose mental pathways are currently unstable would accomplish nothing of value.”

Rhaevia remained silent, watching him move down the hall.

Something deeply guarded inside her soul loosened by a fraction. It was a minuscule shift, but it was enough to alter her perception of the man.

For the very first time since transmigrating into this strange world, she felt that someone in high command might actually understand the difference between protecting a personal secret and being a genuine threat.

She smoothed down her uniform cuff and followed him down the thoroughfare.

Neither of them mentioned the terrifying mental synchronization or the visions of blood and loneliness again. Yet, the subtle dynamic between them had permanently transformed.

A healthy layer of military suspicion still remained, as did a mountain of unanswered questions. Yet beneath the heavy tension, a fragile, unspoken foundation had begun to form.

It was trust.

Several minutes later, as they approached the secondary command junction, a concealed military terminal built into the corridor wall suddenly illuminated on its own.

Rhaevia brought her pace to a halt, her dark eyes tracking the sudden glow.

A highly complex, familiar encryption pattern began scrolling rapidly across the secondary display screen. Her dark eyes narrowed into cold, dangerous slits as she recognized the high-level routing protocols.