This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

As River descended, he enveloped himself in a protective Bubble, slowing his fall with practiced ease. The shimmering membrane distorted the wind around him, softening the impact as his boots finally touched the cracked, mana-infused earth.

Landing in a crouch, he turned his gaze toward the distant explosion, now fading into silence. The aftermath of his escape from Nolan was still lingering in the air—residual sparks of golden flame, drifting dust, and warped air from the clash.

He didn't linger.

Spinning on his heel, River broke into a run, dashing through the uneven terrain of the dungeon floor. His direction was clear: the heart of the dungeon, where the Dungeon Boss resided.

To close a Dungeon, one must defeat the Boss.

River repeated the thought in his head, like a mantra. That was the rule. Dungeon Bosses weren't just the strongest creatures inside—they were the anchors, the core, the stabilizers of the entire space. Without them, the dungeon would collapse back into the mana realm.

The difficulty of a Dungeon Boss rose sharply depending on the dungeon's rank. Dungeons ranged from F-Rank—the weakest, barely a challenge for any half-decent Hunter—to the monstrous SS-Rank, known for producing catastrophes.

Most Hunters ignored F-Rank Bosses entirely. The rewards were pitiful, the danger minimal—unless, of course, the dungeon contained an anomaly. A Boss whose strength far exceeded its rank.

He kept running, weaving through debris and broken trees left behind by other Hunters and past monsters he'd already defeated. His movements were light, silent, practiced. Every step was deliberate. Efficient.

Still, despite his focus, his mind wandered back to the Sun God Mage.

Nolan.

A walking disaster surrounded in gold. The man exuded power, arrogance, and danger.

That guy won't let me go so easily.

River grit his teeth, the headache already forming just thinking about future encounters. Nolan was powerful. Far too powerful for River's current state. His strange elemental control and his status as a future Sun God Mage made him a high-tier threat.

But River wasn't afraid.

Not anymore.

"I'll have to deal with him eventually," he muttered under his breath. Determination flared in his eyes like cold fire. "This can't keep going on."

River sprinted through the Smokey Wolves Forest, his body weaving between thick trees and hanging mist. Growls echoed from the shadows—feral, hungry—but he paid them no mind. Every time one of the wolves lunged from the underbrush, he flicked his wrist casually.

Boom!

A Bubble Bomb detonated mid-air, splashing the beast in a burst of concussive force and shimmering mana. Whimpers and thuds followed, but River never slowed.

Currently, his Skill Tree only had one active ability—Bubble Creation. A seemingly harmless and laughably weak skill by design. But River had already transformed it into something else entirely.

Thanks to his exceptional Mana Control, what should have been a useless spell became a devastating tool of destruction. By compressing and layering multiple Bubbles into a singular point, he had created his own version of an improvised magical explosive—Bubble Bombs.

No manuals. No mentors. Just instinct, experimentation, and sheer brilliance.

Across the world, he doubted anyone else had thought to weaponize such a mundane ability. It was supposed to be a useless Skill. But for River, each Bubble was a tool waiting to be repurposed.

Stack hundreds—maybe even thousands—and it became more than a gimmick.

Beyond offensive use, he had learned to shape them into shields, soft platforms to leap off like spring-loaded trampolines, or even projectiles with razor kinetic force. Yet, all of this came with a price.

Mana Consumption.

Absurdly high.

Each improvised function of Bubble Creation drained far more MP than intended. That's why River had started limiting the destructive output of his Bubble Bombs. If he pushed too hard, Mana Deprivation would set in—and in the middle of a dungeon, that meant death.

He couldn't afford that. Not here. Not now.

His breath stayed steady despite the sprint. The forest gradually thinned as the oppressive fog began to recede. Trees gave way to cracked stone and faint traces of corrupted magic in the air.

He had arrived.

River slowed as he exited the Smokey Wolves' territory, his eyes narrowing at the vast expanse ahead. It was a barren field with jagged rocks jutting from the earth, broken remnants of once-lush terrain now twisted by the Dungeon's influence.

At the center stood the Boss.

A towering, deformed creature pulsing with mana—its core faintly visible through its semi-transparent hide.

River exhaled, flexing his fingers. Tiny bubbles floated up from his palms, circling him like silent familiars.

"Someone's already here," River muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Then it came—a sharp, whistling sound tearing through the air, followed by a thunderous explosion that shook the earth beneath his feet.

The Dungeon Boss, a hulking beast of muscle and mana, staggered from the impact. A gaping hole had been blasted through its back, the mana core within its body flickering like a dying star before shattering into fragments of light. Those lights scattered into the wind, turning into tiny motes that drifted upward like fireflies pulled toward the heavens.

River exhaled, a hint of disappointment tugging at his expression as the defensive Bubbles floating around him popped out of existence.

His gaze shifted to the figures behind the fallen Boss.

There they stood—the students of the Hunter Academy. Some had their hands still raised, faint wisps of mana dancing around their fingertips. Their instructor stood proudly off to the side, arms crossed, nodding in approval at his students' coordinated strike.

There were at least six of them, and from what River could tell, only three had launched the final attack.

"I was too late," River said under his breath.

He had rushed through the Smokey Wolves forest hoping to find and fight the Dungeon Boss first but it seems like he is too late.

He quietly activated Mana Gathering, letting his senses spread through the area like threads in the wind. As he scanned each individual on the other side of the battlefield, his expression shifted. All of them were at least Level 10.

River's brow furrowed slightly when his senses stopped on one particular student.

"…Level 13?"

A bitter smile crept onto his lips.

He had faced mind-bending gravity fields, fought a centaur construct, completed an impossible Quest, and barely escaped the wrath of the Sun God Mage—yet he only came out at Level 15.

Meanwhile, this student likely climbed to Level 13 just by grinding monsters with a well-fed team and instructor guidance.

But then he remembered what he'd gained.

The Heartstone and the Title.

Not something you could get from farming monsters.

River's heart gradually calmed.

"I should consider this a success," he said to himself, watching as a new portal shimmered into existence above the Dungeon Boss's corpse.

There was still a powerful enemy behind him—the Sun God Mage—probably furious by now, knowing River had escaped his grasp for the second time.

It wasn't over. Not even close.

But for now, River just wanted to breathe. Hide. Rest. Plan his next move.

The students from Hunter Academy walked toward the portal in pairs, chattering about their victory. River stayed back for a few seconds, hands in his pockets.

"Still annoying," he muttered as he stepped toward the portal, the final traces of battle fading behind him.

Then, with a flash of pale blue light, he vanished.