This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

River supported Lilla, one arm around her back and the other beneath her legs, carefully guiding her toward the large white tent where the Healer resided.

Hunters surrounded them as they passed, their usual steel expressions softening into deep concern. Worried murmurs rose, but no one dared speak louder than a whisper. All eyes fell on Lilla—the first woman to carry a child since the Red Sky appeared.

It wasn't just awe that filled the air.

It was fear.

Fear that if this child did not make it, then all hope would vanish with him.

River covered Lilla in a glistening protective Bubble, its surface shimmering with Mana as it floated beside him like a cradle. They entered the tent without hesitation. Inside, waiting in calm silence, stood the one person who could make a miracle possible—Healer Mary.

She turned slowly to face them.

Time had carved its mark upon her, lines deep with experience but never exhaustion. Her hair was obsidian black, but streaks of dignified white flowed through it like threads of moonlight. Her face bore the grace of age and wisdom, every wrinkle earned through survival and healing. Her eyes, however, remained untouched—still glowing with a vivid sapphire hue that carried both sorrow and strength.

Mary wore a robe unlike any seen in the camp—a shimmering ensemble of golden fabric woven from blessed silk, the artifact known as the Gown of the Solar Womb. Threads of radiant mana pulsed through its intricate embroidery: healing sigils, divine runes, and delicate phoenix feathers stitched with cosmic essence. The gown didn't merely shine—it glowed, casting a faint warmth into the tent as though the sun itself had chosen her as its vessel.

The air shifted as she stepped forward.

Her aura pulsed gently, making even the wounded lying in the side cots stir with momentary ease.

Healer Mary wasn't the oldest in the Last Hunters Camp, but she was undeniably its heart. A max-Level healer. A walking miracle. A woman who had once brought a Hunter back to life after being torn in two. Some whispered she could regrow limbs and restore memories—others believed she once resurrected a dying forest.

Yet even her expression darkened as she laid eyes on Lilla, now unconscious within the bubble, her body trembling faintly.

Mary pressed her hand to the Bubble's surface. Mana flared around her fingertips. "She's fading fast," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "But not today."

She turned sharply. "Bring her in."

River nodded and followed, lifting the Bubble gently into the heart of the tent.

As the flap closed behind them, hundreds—no, thousands—of River's bubbles surged upward in layers, stacking atop one another like armor. They wrapped the tent from top to bottom, a translucent fortress pulsating with defensive enchantments. Then came golden threads of light, cast by Mary, weaving between each layer—her own protection augmenting his, the two merging into one unbreakable shield.

Outside, the Last Hunters moved into position.

A circle formed around the tent. They activated their Skills one by one—auras igniting, swords drawn, spells trembling beneath gloved hands. Their eyes never wavered, fixed outward.

Because all of them understood what this moment meant.

Then a small, unassuming creature bounced softly into view—a bright blue slime, barely larger than an apple. It hopped on top of one Hunter's shoulder, then leapt toward the bubble-covered tent. As it landed, a soft hum resonated through the air, waves of mana spreading like ripples from a pond.

The blue slime activated the Hive Mind Skill.

Every Hunter in the circle jerked slightly as the connection snapped into place—thoughts, reflexes, combat intent… now shared across all of them. One heartbeat. One mind. One will.

And then… a mechanical roar.

From the far edge of the camp, the ground opened and a colossal black figure emerged—a war machine known as Fortress Model: A-17 Gideon created by one of the Last Hunters. Towering at fifteen meters tall, its crimson visor glowed as it scanned the red sky. Panels opened across its back and chest, releasing hundreds of sleek missile pods, each one locking onto targets unseen to the naked eye.

The rockets aligned themselves toward the heavens, engines humming, awaiting only one command.

All around, the world held its breath.

Above them, the artificial sun shone brighter than ever before—its golden rays bursting across the crimson sky, defying the oppressive red that had blanketed the world for years. As if declaring to the cosmos itself:

"If you come for the child, then come through me."

And far below that blazing light… inside that glowing tent… a new miracle was about to be born.

Then the sound came.

Low, guttural, and ancient. Like a chant carried on the wind of a dead civilization.

It reverberated through the hearts of the Last Hunters.

Outside the tent, they froze—each of them feeling something heavy press on their souls. Their eyes welled with tears. Their instincts screamed, protect, preserve, pray.

But none dared to step inside.

They knew what this was.

The birth of the Chosen One had begun.

Inside the tent, River stood beside the bed, eyes locked on Lilla. She thrashed in pain, her body soaked in sweat, and her eyes—usually filled with stubborn strength—now trembled in agony.

The center of her swollen belly began to glow. At first, it was soft, like a candle flickering in the dark. But with every second, the white light grew more intense—pulsing in rhythm with her screams.

"Focus, Lilla. Breathe with me!" Mary urged, her voice sharp but warm.

The Healer's golden robes shimmered under the glow. Intricate patterns of runes spiraled over her sleeves, reacting to her Healing Skill. A circlet of polished crystal hovered behind her like a halo, feeding golden threads of energy into her hands.

She pressed both palms against Lilla's stomach, light pouring from her fingers, but nothing dulled the pain.

Despite being a miracle worker—one who had resurrected warriors from ash—Mary's power could not touch this.

The child inside Lilla was no ordinary infant.

He was the destined one. A being forged of hope, burdened with a legacy that could reignite the dying world or doom it entirely

Lilla let out a piercing cry, her back arching off the cot as white-hot pain rippled through her spine.

It was as if her very bones were being torn apart and remade from within.

Every contraction was a convulsion of divine force, bending her body to its limit. Her veins glowed silver, and the air shimmered around her with every scream.

Her nails tore into the bedsheets. Her lips cracked.

And yet—she never asked to stop.

She never begged.

Because she knew—this was her role.

To bring light back into the world, no matter the cost.

"Keep going, Lilla!" Mary cried, now kneeling by her side, her golden robes soaked in sweat and glowing particles. "I can see the head!"

River clenched his fists, powerless. His bubbles couldn't ease her burden. His magic, useless now.

This wasn't a battle of strength.

This was a miracle being born.

A searing wave of light burst from Lilla's body—like a pulse that washed through the tent. Every Hunter outside fell to their knees.

And then—

A sound broke through.

Soft at first, fragile.

But then louder. Stronger.

A baby's cry.

It was pure. It was defiant.

It was alive.

River's eyes widened. His heart thudded wildly in his chest. Tears blurred his vision as Mary gently held the crying baby in her arms, swaddling him in her cloak of light.

Lilla slumped back, breathing ragged and shallow, tears of relief running down her cheeks. "River…" she whispered weakly. "Go… hold him…"

River stepped forward, trembling, every inch of him drawn to the child.

He reached out.

But just before his fingers touched the baby's tiny hand—

The world cracked.

Like glass hit by a hammer, the air split with a terrible sound.

Darkness surged in from all sides, devouring the golden glow, the warmth, the crying, the tent, the sky—

And River—

Was falling.

Eyes wide.

Heart pounding.

Waking up.