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

The blood-red sky beyond the dimensional gate rippled like a living wound, casting a violent crimson sheen across the desolate obsidian platform. Rhaevia stood motionless before the structure, her slender fingers locked within Raevor’s grip.

Their intertwined energies illuminated the barren landscape, with golden Sovereign light and silver Sentinel power weaving together to form a shimmering, protective barrier around the expedition team.

Yet despite the blinding brilliance of their combined power, neither energy could conceal the oppressive presence gathering on the other side of the rift. The air grew impossibly heavy, tasting faintly of ozone and ash as the space around them began to distort.

Something was approaching through the tear in space. It was not a marching army, nor was it the mechanical sound of an advancing war fleet. It was a single individual.

Project Genesis flashed directly across Rhaevia’s vision, red system notifications illuminating her pupils in rapid succession.

[DIMENSIONAL BREACH: STABILIZING.]

[ANCIENT AUTHORITY SIGNATURE: CONFIRMED.]

[ENTITY IDENTIFICATION: THIRD SOVEREIGN.]

[WARNING: THREAT ASSESSMENT UNAVAILABLE.]

Raevor’s expression hardened into a wall of cold granite. His Sentinel instincts had already responded to the overwhelming pressure, silver energy gathering around his shoulders like an invisible blade ready to strike.

“Everyone, fall back,” Raevor ordered, his low voice cutting through the rising wind with absolute authority. “Maintain defensive formation. Do not fire unless I give the command.”

The surrounding soldiers obeyed immediately, their boots clicking against the dark stone as they retreated into tight, synchronized firing lines.

Rhaevia, however, did not move an inch. For ten thousand years, the Third Sovereign’s shadow had relentlessly followed the scattered fragments of her forgotten history.

Her distinct emblem had appeared on erased imperial records, corrupted deep-space archives, stolen energy crystals, and the frozen throne of an unknown ruler buried in the ice. Now, after endless searching, the person behind those discoveries was finally within reach.

The gate’s inner surface trembled, the crimson energy swirling into a localized violent tempest.

A slender silhouette emerged through the light, stepping smoothly onto the platform as though crossing an ordinary doorway rather than traversing an impossible distance between regions of space.

She wore a long black gown embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like distant constellations under an alien sky. Its high collar framed her pale neck, while delicate metallic ornaments adorned her trailing sleeves.

A translucent mantle flowed behind her shoulders, moving rhythmically despite the absence of wind on the dead world. Her silver hair fell in graceful waves down to her waist, shimmering under the blood-red atmospheric conditions.

And when she lifted her head, her eyes burned with an unmistakable crimson light, not merely red but luminous, resembling two stars burning out at the heart of a dying universe.

The woman looked neither hurried nor surprised by the reception committee. She casually surveyed the barren planet, the tight military defensive formation, and the soldiers who had raised their heavy energy weapons against her.

Her expression remained pleasantly curious, as though she were observing an entertaining display put on for her benefit.

Then, her gaze shifted, coming to rest squarely on Rhaevia.

The atmospheric pressure intensified tenfold in an instant. Several hardened soldiers staggered backward, gasping for air as the woman’s authority washed across the platform like a tidal wave.

Their weapons trembled in their hands, and the crystalline pillars surrounding the gate dimmed under the weight of her presence.

Raevor immediately stepped half a pace forward, placing his broader frame between the woman and Rhaevia. Silver energy surged violent and bright around him, forming an impenetrable wall of physical and mental protection.

The woman glanced at him, tilting her head slightly. For the first time, something resembling genuine recognition crossed her features.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice carrying a smooth, melodic resonance that echoed in their minds. “You are still beside her.”

Raevor’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Identify yourself.”

The woman laughed softly. It was an elegant, airy sound, almost affectionate, yet something inherently cold beneath it made the surrounding darkness feel freezing.

“You have forgotten your manners, Sentinel,” she said smoothly, her tone laced with amusement.

Raevor’s jaw set, his expression remaining unreadable, but Rhaevia felt his fingers tighten instinctively around hers. He was ready to tear the rift apart if she made a single hostile move.

The woman paid his flare of energy little mind and returned her full attention to Rhaevia. For several long, tense moments, neither woman spoke, the silence between them thick with unsaid history.

Rhaevia studied her carefully, searching her features for any resemblance to the ancient recordings she had unearthed. The woman possessed the same striking silver hair and crimson eyes as the ruler depicted in the frozen palace’s portrait, but her core presence was entirely different.

The forgotten queen of the records had radiated the steady authority of a sovereign ruler. This woman carried the absolute certainty of someone who believed the universe itself should bow to her commands.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, composed, and terrifyingly self-assured. And unlike Rhaevia, who worked to shield those around her, she made no effort whatsoever to soften the weight of her power.

“So,” the woman said at last, tilting her head in a delicate gesture. “You really did survive.”

Rhaevia met her crimson gaze without flinching, her voice cold and steady.

“You erased entire civilizations searching for something connected to me. You sealed seven forbidden worlds, corrupted their records, and sent your forces to attack my territory.” Her golden eyes narrowed as her voice sharpened. “Why?”

The woman’s smile widened slightly, an amused curve of her lips. “Still asking questions before understanding the situation. Some things truly never change.”

Golden light gathered sharply around Rhaevia’s free fingertips, humming with dangerous intensity. “Answer me.”

For a brief instant, the woman’s expression shifted, becoming unreadable. Beneath her smooth composure lay something buried deep, something that might have been anger, grief, or twisted amusement.

Then, she took a smooth step closer.

Raevor’s protective barrier flared to life, but the woman walked through its outer edge effortlessly, without disturbing a single thread of his silver energy.

Project Genesis erupted into a cascade of frantic visual alerts.

[FOREIGN SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY: DETECTED.]

[AUTHORITY COMPARISON: INCONCLUSIVE.]

[WARNING: DIRECT CONFRONTATION MAY CAUSE SPATIAL INSTABILITY.]

The woman stopped merely a few meters away, completely unfazed by the system alerts or the deadly force primed against her. Her crimson eyes drifted across the golden energy swirling around Rhaevia, then traveled upward toward the distant fleet visible beyond the planet’s thin atmosphere.

Finally, she looked back at Rhaevia and smiled, not like an enemy meeting a rival on the battlefield, but like someone returning after a long journey to inspect a familiar possession.

“You finally built yourself a kingdom.”

You can also read: