This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

Red sky.

No clouds.

Two moons like eyes, silent and cold, stared down at the mortal world.

Dimensional cracks opened across the heavens from time to time—jagged scars in space—before sealing themselves shut like a doctor hurriedly stitching a wounded patient. The phenomenon had once caused panic, but now, it was as normal as rain.

Earth… was no longer Earth. The blue-green planet had long turned into a wasteland—barren, broken, drained of its warmth. The desolation stretched far and wide, a cruel reminder of the age when the sky first bled.

Mana, once abundant and rich in every corner of the world, had become scarce. It was being devoured by the rifts in the sky—absorbed, stolen, siphoned away by unseen forces from the other side. Those cracks led to another dimension… one no human had entered and returned from. A dimension still unknown, still watching.

Yet even amidst this dying world, scattered pockets of hope survived.

One of them… was the Camp of the Last Hunters.

Wooden tents lined the dusty earth like scars of resilience. Bonfires flickered, painting the red-toned world with orange warmth. Concrete ruins and makeshift structures—patched together from the remnants of cities long gone—served as homes. Time had carved its mark deep into every wall, every floorboard, every broken pipe that stuck out from the earth like bones from a grave.

But to the Hunters who lived here, this wasn't just a camp.

This was their city.

No—this was the last bastion of civilization.

Medieval-looking armor clanked beside sleek, futuristic exo-suits. Energy rifles slung over the same shoulders as ancient broadswords. Technology and tradition, side by side.

The Hunters walked through the camp not with joy, but with resolve. Their faces bore neither smile nor frown—but their eyes carried weight, and their steps were deliberate, as if the ground itself dared not betray their will.

Around the bonfires, Hunters sat together—sharing dry rations or whatever they still had left in their Inventories. They ate without complaint, speaking in soft, measured tones. Voices carried, but not loudly. The night was a fragile thing, and they knew better than to disturb it.

It was peace—but a fleeting one.

They knew the calm would not last.

It never did.

Dawn… was a word they no longer used the same way. It no longer described the sun's warm greeting. Instead, it referred to the awakening of a massive artificial orb—suspended high in the atmosphere by a Hunter—to counteract the blood-red skies and twin moons.

Was it even right to call it "artificial" anymore? To them, it was the sun.

At the edge of the camp, nestled between the remains of two crumbling buildings reinforced with fresh wooden beams, stood a house. Concrete and timber patched it together like a memory refusing to fade.

On the balcony facing east, where the artificial sun would soon rise, two figures stood side by side. Their hands rested on the splintering wooden rail, eyes locked on the crimson horizon.

"River," the woman said, her voice calm, almost wistful.

River turned slightly, a gentle smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

His black hair had grown longer, strands brushing his cheeks, still damp from the wind. His void-like eyes held depth—a stillness sharpened by years of battles, regrets, and decisions made with blood. His face bore light stubble and a faint mustache, the signs of age and fatigue settling in. Fine creases tugged at the corners of his eyes.

He wore a long, flowing robe of white and sapphire-blue. Strange symbols pulsed faintly across its surface, glowing softly like runes powered by slumbering electricity. The robe wrapped him like a second skin, hiding everything except his calloused hands and the white boots planted firmly on the floor.

Strapped across his back was his weapon—a long staff, green and etched with vines that seemed to shift subtly when no one looked directly at them. At the top hovered a floating orb of light, silent and ominous, like a captured star.

"Lilla, what's wrong?" River asked, voice quiet, eyes still focused on the woman beside him.

Lilla leaned forward slightly, her hands gently pressing into her swollen belly. She was around thirty, her short auburn hair brushing her shoulders, and soft features weathered slightly by exhaustion but warmed by determination. She wore a simple gray dress, loose and practical, designed for comfort over fashion. The fabric stretched around her heavily pregnant form—proof of the life growing within.

She smiled faintly, but her eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

"The baby kicked," she said softly, placing one hand over her stomach. "It hurts but it tickles."

River didn't answer at first. He simply looked ahead, his expression easing as he caught a glimpse of the artificial sun.

"Do you think he can see us?" River asked quietly, his voice soft like a prayer.

He gazed up at the brilliant light that hovered eternally above the horizon—the artificial sun, glowing not with fusion, but with the final will of a man.

Lilla chuckled faintly, her hand resting on her swollen belly. Her eyes shimmered as she followed River's gaze. "He can see us," she said with conviction. "I feel it every time the sunlight touches my skin. I know he's watching. And my son… our son, he knows too. His father is up there, looking over us all."

River's shoulders sagged slightly, burdened by the weight of unspoken guilt. He turned to her with a hesitant smile, then looked at the roundness of her belly. "Have you thought of a name?" he asked.

"I have," Lilla answered, her palm caressing her belly gently, as if drawing comfort and strength from within. A tender smile appeared on her face. "He's destined for greatness… Serian. That's the name I've chosen."

"Serian…" River repeated, letting the syllables sit on his tongue like a memory. His eyes drifted back to the rising light—the ever-burning sun, pulsing against a crimson sky as the twin moons faded into morning. "Celestial and Guardian… a name born from sacrifice."

He stood there, silent, and the wind carried the faintest trace of ash and morning dew.

River's thoughts spiraled backward—years ago, when the red skies first tore through reality and the dimensional rifts began to bleed disasters into their world. He hadn't been alone then.

He had a friend.

A friend who laughed through danger. A friend who fought beside him in every raid, dungeon, and battlefield. A friend who held the line when River's strength reached its limit.

Even when River's level plateaued—stuck at Level 40 while the world evolved beyond him—his friend never left his side.

And then… that friend was gone.

"He gave everything…" River whispered, "Changed his very essence… turned his soul into a core… just so the Earth could breathe again."

His jaw clenched, fingers curling into trembling fists.

"He altered his skill. Burned through his life force. Became a living sun to supply the atmosphere with oxygen and warmth."

River's voice cracked. "He gave us a future."

Lilla said nothing. Her eyes remained on the sky, shining with tears that never fell. She didn't need to speak. They both carried the same wound.

"If only I were stronger," River muttered. The guilt hit him like a tide, overwhelming. "If I had been faster… smarter… if I could've—"

He paused, inhaled shakily. "Lilla, I failed your husband. But I won't fail this world. I swear, I'll give everything I have. For Serian. For the future. I'll become strong enough to protect what's left. Even if I have to walk through hell to do it…"

"River…"

Lilla's voice cracked through his anguish, and he turned quickly, tears still burning at the corners of his eyes. But what he saw made his heart drop.

Water was running down her legs, pooling on the wooden floor. Her hands clutched her belly, and beads of sweat dotted her pale forehead.

"I…" Lilla's breathing hitched. "My water broke."

River's mind snapped into focus. All emotion was pushed aside by urgency. He rushed to her side and held her gently.

"Okay—okay, Lilla. Hold on," he said quickly, glancing toward the door. "We're getting you to the healer. You're going to be alright. Serian's coming."

The sun above continued to shine, watching quietly as a new chapter was about to begin.

A child of sacrifice. A child of light.

A child born beneath a man-made sun.