This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

A guttural shriek tore through the cavern, a sound so unnatural that it sent vibrations crawling up the walls of the cave. The voice was high-pitched, almost human, yet distorted, like a child's laughter warped into something grotesque. The source of the sound was a monster that even experienced Hunters whispered about with fear—the Twelve-Legged Spider Face.

Its nest was a suffocating labyrinth of silk. Thousands of webs stretched across the walls and ceiling, glistening with damp moisture. Suspended within them were corpses of monsters—goblins, horned wolves, and insectoids—drained completely dry, leaving only brittle husks behind. Each one was wrapped tight in the monster's silken bindings, like trophies dangling in perpetual mockery.

But now, the feared Dungeon Boss lay dead.

A yawning hole gaped across its abdomen, blackened mist seeping violently from the wound. The mist hissed and sizzled as it devoured the spider's flesh, reducing it to powder. The Twelve-Legged Spider Face twitched once, then collapsed with a resounding thud that shook the cavern floor. Its dozens of glossy eyes dulled, reflecting only the faint luminescence of the glowing moss clinging to the cave walls.

River staggered as he landed heavily on the uneven stone floor. The victory was his, but it hadn't come cheaply.

The threads of webbing binding his left arm pulsed faintly with a sinister glow, digging into his skin like shackles. Unlike normal spider silk, these strands weren't just physical restraints—they actively suppressed mana flow, choking his pathways and scattering his mana circuits into chaos. Every pulse sent jolts of pain into his chest, like sparks frying nerves.

River sucked in a sharp breath. His teeth clenched hard as he forced himself to calm his breathing. Mana Control. That was his lifeline. His exceptional control to stabilize and redirect mana threads inside his body corrected the disarray, slowly unknotting the web's interference.

"Not today," he muttered through gritted teeth.

With his free hand, he drew his dagger. The steel blade scraped across the strands, cutting with effort. Each slice came with resistance, the fibers humming as though alive. Finally, the last tether snapped, and the webbing dropped to the floor with a soft thump.

River flexed his fingers, blood rushing back into his arm. He groaned, his balance faltering as dizziness threatened to drag him down. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead. His entire body screamed in protest, each movement reminding him of the venom spreading through his veins.

"This f*cking hurts," he hissed, yanking his shirt up.

What greeted him was a sight that would make even veteran Hunters grimace. His right side was discolored with a spreading web-shaped wound. At the center was a hole that oozed thick, tar-like liquid, the stench acrid and bitter. Black veins stretched outward like cracks in glass, pulsating faintly as the poison circulated through his system.

River sucked in a shaky breath. "This d*mn poison…"

The Twelve-Legged Spider Face wasn't infamous for nothing. Its venom was said to be potent enough to cripple even C-Rank Hunters, paralyzing them while its silk wrapped them alive. For most E-Ranks, even a scratch from one of its fangs meant a slow, agonizing death.

River shouldn't have survived the battle—but he did. Barely.

He reached into his inventory and pulled out a glass vial filled with vibrant red liquid. A Health Potion. Without hesitation, he popped the cork and downed half in one swallow, the warmth of the liquid spreading through his throat and chest. Then he poured the rest directly onto the wound.

The result was immediate. Steam hissed as the potion reacted with the venom, burning like acid against open flesh. River bit down hard on his knuckles, stifling the scream that wanted to tear out of his throat. The pain clawed through him, white-hot and merciless, until his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the stone.

For long moments, he knelt there, sweat dripping from his chin, the echo of his ragged breathing bouncing against the cavern walls. Finally, when he peeled his hand away, the wound had begun to knit. The black ooze had lessened, though the poison still lurked deeper, tainting his bloodstream.

"It's not enough," he muttered. His voice was hoarse. "I'll… have to force it out manually."

He retrieved another potion, chugging it down in a single gulp. The warmth was fleeting, a shallow comfort against the ache. With unsteady steps, he forced himself upright and staggered toward the massive corpse of the Dungeon Boss.

The Twelve-Legged Spider Face's carcass loomed like a toppled tower. Its grotesque human-like face was frozen in death, lips curled back in a rictus grin, fangs glistening even in stillness. Beside it lay the shimmering remnants of its defeat—Dungeon Drops. A cluster of mana crystals, a glossy fang that radiated faint venomous energy, and a silk gland that glistened like liquid silver.

River crouched, scooping them up with practiced efficiency. He didn't bother opening his Status Screen. He didn't care about the EXP notifications or his updated stats. Right now, survival mattered more than progress.

His head swam as he moved. His vision blurred at the edges, every heartbeat pumping the toxin further into his body. Time was against him.

He cast one last glance around the cavern—its silence was oppressive, almost watchful. The corpses in the webs seemed to leer at him, hollow eyes following him as if mocking his frailty.

River shook his head and limped toward the glowing blue portal at the far end of the chamber.

The moment his hand brushed its edge, the familiar pull seized him. His body lifted, weightless, and his surroundings warped. For an instant, he floated in a haze of light, until gravity reclaimed him and solid ground met his shoes again.

The world outside the Dungeon was starkly different. Bright lights illuminated the dungeon area, where some workers bustled to and fro—recording data and preparing for the closing of the dungeon. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and steel, a sharp contrast to the suffocating musk of the cave.

River barely slowed. He put a hand over his eyes, hiding the sweat on his face, and moved with brisk urgency. His footsteps echoed as he slipped between crates and busy staffers, weaving through their blind spots.

Still, not everyone missed him.

"Wait—" one worker called, blinking as he caught sight of River's pale figure. "Isn't that…?"

Another turned, frowning. "The rumoured masked man?"

Before they could call for him again, River broke into a sprint. His shoes pounded against the pavement, his breath ragged but determined. He cut through the crowd like a phantom, leaving nothing but startled gasps and disbelieving stares in his wake.

The workers exchanged uneasy glances.

"…I think so," one whispered.

The other swallowed hard. "We need to report this. Right now."

For a brief moment, silence hung heavy, as if the air itself had recognized the gravity of what they'd seen. Then both staffers bolted, rushing toward their supervisor.

Meanwhile, River vanished into the streets of Voulton City, his body aching, his blood still poisoned, but his resolve unshaken. Another Dungeon conquered, another secret hidden.

"Sh*t! I have to hurry and deal with this poison!"