This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

River's clothes snapped and whipped against his skin, his hair thrashing wildly in the turbulent air. The wind roared past his ears as he soared above the desolate stretch of cracked, dry land—a barren expanse that looked like the earth had been scorched and abandoned. His sharp eyes swept the ground below with unwavering focus, searching for the telltale glint of metal or the faint shimmer of magical detection fields.

There.

A faint ripple on the soil. A detection node, cleverly camouflaged against the dusty terrain, its mana pulse waiting to flag intruders. River's brows knit together. If he continued on his current trajectory, he'd be right inside its detection arc.

He exhaled sharply, extended his hand, and conjured a translucent bubble in mid-air. It gleamed faintly like a perfect droplet suspended against the night sky. With the precision of someone who had drilled this maneuver countless times, River angled his body and landed on the bubble.

Then, with a thought, he detonated it.

The bubble burst silently but released a compressed blast of kinetic force that rocketed him forward like a slingshot. The sudden surge tore at his limbs and drove the air from his lungs, his shoes skimming dangerously close to the ground before he curved upward again, riding the momentum.

Pain lanced through his legs as his muscles strained against the brutal acceleration. His feet felt numb, like frozen blocks attached to his body. Normally, River preferred to use his bubbles like trampolines, bouncing from one to the next with controlled finesse. It was efficient, less taxing on the body. But now? He needed raw speed. He needed to cross this hellish stretch before anyone noticed. Bursting the bubbles was the only way.

The price, however, was steep.

If a regular mage attempted this technique, they'd likely shatter their bones before they made it halfway across the dry zone. Every burst carried the risk of tearing tendons or snapping joints from the sheer force.

Fortunately for River, he wasn't a regular mage.

He had spent his Status Points like how Physical Class does it, pushing his Strength and Endurance far beyond the norm for a mage. Without those stats, he'd already be a crumpled heap on the cracked earth.

Still, each blast sent a fresh wave of agony up his legs. His breath came harsh and fast, sweat slicking his back beneath his dark shirt.

Bubble. Land. Burst. Fly. Repeat.

The rhythm blurred into instinct, a punishing cycle of impact and acceleration that carried him across the no-man's-land between the city and the ocean. Detection grids littered the ground like invisible spiderwebs, each one a silent threat. River weaved through them, cutting sharp angles mid-air, timing every bounce with surgical precision.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but could only have been minutes, the fractured terrain gave way to smoother ground. River landed lightly on his feet, his shoes sinking into a thin layer of sand. He crouched low, chest heaving, and let the burning in his legs simmer down.

He'd made it.

Ahead, the world opened into a vast stretch of darkness broken only by the faint shimmer of moonlight. The ocean sprawled before him, endless and black, its surface restless under the wind. The rhythmic crash of waves reached his ears, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the dry lands. With the sound came the briny tang of salt, sharp and clean against the dry taste in his mouth.

River straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders, and glanced back over his shoulder.

In the distance, Voulton's skyline pulsed with color. Neon lights flared and faded, and above them, drones projected radiant illusions into the night sky—giant symbols and flowing streams of light that danced to the beat of music he could barely hear. The concert was still in full swing, the crowd oblivious to the darkness creeping beyond the city limits.

"Good," River murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The longer the concert lasted, the less chance anyone would notice what he was about to do.

His expression hardened as he turned back to the ocean, his eyes narrowing. Somewhere beyond those restless waves lay his objective..

The moon hung high and silver in the sky, casting a faint glow across the water's edge.

"Time to move," River muttered, his voice barely audible against the rush of waves. He drew in a deep breath, centering his thoughts.

With a sharp snap of his fingers, a bubble shimmered into existence around him, smooth and translucent like molten glass. It expanded just enough to encompass his body, sealing him within a sphere of air. River focused, channeling mana through the delicate framework of his ability. Oxygen from the surrounding atmosphere streamed into the bubble, condensing until the air inside grew rich and dense.

He inhaled slowly, testing the quality. It wasn't perfect—there was always a metallic taste when he used mana control to pull oxygen—but it would keep him alive. For thirty minutes at least. Longer if he rationed his breath.

Satisfied, River rolled his shoulders and stepped forward without hesitation, vaulting over the last rocky ledge. The bubble hit the surface of the water with a resonant splash, sending ripples racing across the moonlit sea.

The ocean swallowed him instantly.

As the surface vanished above, River adjusted his technique. Moisture Gathering activated in a controlled pulse, pulling the surrounding water toward the bubble. Layers formed, thickening its membrane and creating a slick, reinforced barrier. He wove an extra layer of mana threads along the outer shell, altering its density so it would sink rather than float.

The descent began.

The moonlight fractured above him, breaking into shards of silver as the water's grip tightened. For a brief moment, faint beams still reached him, bending and twisting like ghostly fingers. But the deeper he sank, the weaker they became until they vanished altogether. Darkness closed in, vast and oppressive, swallowing everything beyond the glowing outline of his bubble.

If not for his enhanced vision, he would have seen nothing at all. But even that quickly reached its limit. Down here, vision became a cruel joke. The blackness was absolute, pressing against the bubble like a living thing. It was the kind of darkness that made a man question if he was moving at all—or if he was simply drifting in a void with no end.

The only proof that he was descending came from the faint, rhythmic thrum of the currents brushing against his bubble. That, and the growing pressure that clawed at the outer layer of his Skill.

River kept his breathing even, eyes forward, hands poised in case he needed to react. Minutes passed. The cold seeped in—not physical cold, but a sensation born from silence, from isolation so complete it gnawed at the edges of thought.

Then, a flicker.

River froze, pupils narrowing. A point of light glimmered ahead, faint as a dying ember in a storm.

At first, he thought it was a trick of the currents. But then another appeared. Then another. Within moments, the void was peppered with lights—dozens, maybe hundreds—glowing softly in the dark like a constellation sunk beneath the sea.

River stopped his descent, halting the bubble with a precise shift of mana. His eyes locked on the lights, dissecting their patterns. The way they moved—slow at first, then adjusting, circling—wasn't random.

They were aware of him.

They were watching.

River's jaw tightened. His instincts screamed caution, but he held still, letting the bubble drift slightly as if carried by the water. His fingers twitched, summoning mana threads with practiced ease. Outside the bubble, tiny orbs began to materialize—Bubble Bombs, each humming faintly as they stabilized in the crushing depths.

The lights shifted. What was once a distant constellation suddenly broke formation. Lines of glowing points converged, closing the distance with shocking speed.

"Here we go," River muttered under his breath.

The water churned violently as the lights lunged toward him, streaking through the dark like predatory comets. River's bombs pulsed brighter, mana coiling inside like coiled springs ready to snap.

Then—abruptly—they stopped.

Just meters away from the outer membrane of his bubble, the glowing shapes froze in unison. River saw them clearly.

The glow wasn't just any other lights. It came from eyes. Dozens of them. Hundreds, maybe.

And the creatures those eyes belonged to were no longer the monsters from the early days of the dungeon outbreaks. They were… changed. Twisted by time and adaptation.

One swam closest—a goblin, or what used to be one. Its squat frame was gone, stretched into something lean and serpentine, scales glinting faintly as bioluminescent eyes burned in its skull. Its limbs ended in fins, not claws, its mouth bristling with needle teeth.

Another drifted behind it, larger and bulkier. River recognized the silhouette of an ogre—but its body was fused with the anatomy of a shark, its limbs streamlined for speed, its jaws widening unnaturally far.

And then there were others: a jellyfish that pulsed with eerie light, its bell translucent but its shape betraying hints of a slime's core structure.

Each creature was a grotesque fusion of something familiar and something alien. Monsters from the first Dungeon Break, warped and reforged by the crushing depths. They had adapted, survived, thrived.

River's lips curved into a grim line.

"They're not outsiders anymore," he whispered, voice low, his breath fogging the inside of the bubble. "They belong here now."

The creatures stared back, their glowing eyes cutting through the void, silent and patient. Predators of an unseen kingdom, sizing up an intruder.

River slowly adjusted his stance, ready to fight—or to flee. Down here, there would be no reinforcements. No witnesses. Only him and the abyss.

Taking a deep breath, he used a simple mana control to project his voice outside the bubble.

"I am sent here to meet Wave!"