This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

Three important figures of the future… gathered in a single city.

Coincidence, or something more sinister?

River couldn't decide. His instincts told him it was more than chance, but he wasn't about to jump to conclusions. For now, all he could do was keep moving forward. Still, the weight of it gnawed at the back of his mind.

Helio—the Sun God Mage.

Freya—the White Knight.

And Melody—the Mute Mage.

River clenched his fists, muttering under his breath. "If this isn't fate pulling strings, then what is it?"

But speculation could wait. Right now, there were more immediate matters at hand. Melody would eventually find her path, and when she did, he'd be there to guide her. He didn't need to force her awakening early. Not yet.

For now, survival came first.

The sound of rough voices echoed through a nearby alleyway, dragging River back to the present.

"I think I saw him here."

"Yeah, I saw him too—but he suddenly disappeared."

"Does he have an invisibility Skill?"

"I don't know. But that guy's been clearing out dungeons like he owns them, not even sparing a glance for anyone else. No cooperation, no sharing… I'll bet he's carrying a mountain of treasures by now."

"Then we can't let him slip away. He's alone. We can take him."

River crouched low on the rooftop, the moonlight casting a pale gleam across his sharp features. Their voices carried up easily—reckless, unrestrained. They weren't even trying to whisper. He almost scoffed at their arrogance.

He could see them clearly: three D-Rank Hunters fanning out through the alley, weapons drawn, eyes sharp. They weren't incompetent, but their overconfidence was almost laughable. They thought they were predators. They had no idea they were being stalked themselves.

Because the man they hunted wasn't in the alley.

He was right above them.

Floating.

River's body was suspended within a shimmering bubble, nearly invisible against the night sky. The sphere rippled faintly, bending moonlight across its surface in watery distortions. A simple camouflage, woven from his Moisture Gathering Ability, cloaked him from sight. Not perfect—anyone with refined mana senses would notice the distortion immediately—but for these amateurs? It was more than enough.

"Not even worth the effort," River murmured.

Yet the technique was costly. He glanced at his Status Screen, his expression tightening as his MP gauge drained like sand through an hourglass.

150… 120… 90…

His brow furrowed. If his Mana dipped below ten, his body would collapse under the strain of overexertion.

Tch. Not worth the risk.

With a sharp thought, he released the bubble. It popped soundlessly, and gravity reclaimed him. His body dropped from the sky like a stone—until, at the last second, he conjured another small bubble beneath him. The sphere cushioned his landing, dispersing into mist as his boots hit the cobblestones with barely a sound.

His eyes flicked back to his Status. 30 MP left.

And that was less than twenty seconds of concealment.

River clicked his tongue in irritation. "If I want this to be viable, I'll need a far larger mana pool. As it stands, I'm gambling with scraps."

He inhaled deeply, gathering the ambient moisture and mana back into his core. Slowly, his reserves began to climb again. He didn't have the luxury of rest, not when his pursuers were still combing the streets. Already, he could feel one of them probing the area with a detection Skill. A faint ripple brushed past him like a sonar pulse.

River narrowed his eyes. Persistent. Someone among them isn't a complete fool.

But persistence alone wouldn't be enough.

Adjusting his breathing, he slipped into motion, his body becoming a blur as he dashed silently through the shadowed streets—moving away from the direction the Hunters had gone. Every corner, every gap between buildings, he turned into an escape route. His senses stretched outward, alert for the telltale signatures of mana. Twice, he narrowly avoided an ambush—sliding beneath a balcony just as a Hunter leapt overhead, cutting through a market stall moments before another tried to flank him.

But they couldn't catch him.

They wouldn't catch him.

River wasn't some green Hunter fumbling through his first chase. He was a survivor of the world's greatest calamity. He had outmaneuvered monsters that dwarfed skyscrapers, beasts that could blot out the sun with their wings. Compared to that, these D-Rank Hunters were children—loud, eager, and painfully predictable.

As he vaulted over a wall and landed on the far side, his lips curled into a smirk. "You're chasing a ghost you'll never catch."

Voulton stretched endlessly before him, its lights twinkling like stars across the vast sprawl of the city. To a normal civilian, traversing from one edge to another would take at least two hours by car. But River wasn't normal. His physical stats were almost the same as Physical Class Hunters. Where a car needed hours, he needed minutes.

And so he ran. He is not the fastest Hunter for a D-Rank but he is definitely not slow.

The wind roared past his ears, the pounding rhythm of his boots against concrete echoing like a war drum. His body blurred, darting between buildings and across empty streets. In less than twenty minutes, he had crossed from the concert grounds to the far edge of the city, the glittering skyline shrinking behind him.

Along the way, he felt their pursuit waning. Some had nearly caught up, glimpses of movement flashing in his periphery—but each time, he widened the gap, exploiting their hesitation, their exhaustion. One by one, the presences thinned until only silence followed him.

He exhaled, slowing his pace as he reached the outskirts of Voulton. The air was cooler here, cleaner, carrying the faint scent of trees from the forests beyond. For the first time in hours, he allowed himself to stop.

He glanced back at the city, the lights still glowing like a restless hive. Somewhere in there, Freya was tightening her invisible net, orchestrating this entire "game" with her Hunters as pawns. The thought tightened his jaw.

"Freya really thought this through," he muttered, frustration flickering in his eyes. Every move she made pushed him further into a corner, forced him to adapt, to reveal more of his tricks. She was cunning—far too cunning for someone her age.

But he wasn't about to lose.

"If that's the case," River whispered, his eyes glinting under the moonlight, "then let's see how far they're willing to follow."

River turned toward the forest before he walked inside.

The cluster of trees wasn't really a "forest" in the traditional sense. It was more of a decorative barrier, deliberately grown to prevent people from straying too close to the edge of Voulton City. The trunks were thin, spaced just enough to look natural, and their leafy canopies formed a patchy cover that swayed in the night breeze. It wasn't meant to be a place anyone lingered—it was simply there to discourage curious wanderers, a green curtain masking what lay beyond.

River moved through the trees at a steady pace. He didn't have to walk far before the ground sloped downward, and the dark line of metal railings appeared ahead. He stopped in his tracks. The sound hit him first—a hollow, unrelenting howl of wind rushing upward from the world below.

Stepping forward, he rested a hand lightly on the cold railing and let his eyes sweep across the horizon.

Voulton City was like an island, but instead of water surrounding it, the city was perched on the edge of a vast, desolate expanse. The ground beyond stretched endlessly, a patchwork of cracked earth and barren wastelands. Jagged fissures scarred the land like veins, and small pockets of swampy terrain glistened in the moonlight, releasing a faint stench carried upward by the wind. It was a world stripped bare—harsh, broken, and unforgiving.

River narrowed his eyes, focusing past the wastelands. His vision sharpened unnaturally, zooming far into the distance until he saw the faint shimmer of the ocean. It lay like a silver thread on the horizon, impossibly far away. Unlike normal people who only heard rumors of the real reason why the ocean is far back, River and educated enough knew the truth: the ocean had retreated centuries ago, pulled back by the same forces that came out from the portals. For the citizens of Voulton City, it was nothing more than a forgotten myth.

He exhaled slowly. He had planned to do this in the morning, when the city was awake, and perhaps his absence wouldn't be so noticeable. But Freya's little stunt earlier had pushed him out of the hotel sooner than he intended. Now that he was here, standing before the void, there was no reason to delay.

He had promised himself he would prove it to her—prove to Freya that his words about the future weren't empty. And with only a week left, he couldn't waste a single moment.

"Fortunately, I'm prepared," River muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a faint smile.

Without hesitation, he vaulted over the railing. His body plummeted downward, the rush of air screaming past his ears as the wastelands rushed closer.

Before he could hit the ground, a bubble formed beneath him—larger and sturdier than any he had conjured before. The translucent sphere shimmered faintly in the moonlight, cradling his fall like a giant cushion. River landed atop it with a soft bounce.

But this bubble wasn't ordinary. Its surface quivered violently, warping and twisting as though something immense was trying to break free from within. Cracks of mana shimmered like veins of light across its curved surface.

River smirked.

A sharp pop echoed across the night, followed by a deafening roar. The bubble burst apart in an explosive release of wind and raw mana. The force struck him like a slingshot, propelling his body upward with staggering speed.

His figure blurred against the night sky, trailing a faint stream of glowing particles as he shot higher and higher, leaving the railing, the forest, and even the city itself behind. In the span of a heartbeat, he vanished into the vast canopy of stars above, his presence swallowed by the night.