This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

Two hours.

That was all the rest River allowed himself. In truth, it was too much. Far too long for someone like him.

If he could skip sleep entirely, he would do so in a heartbeat. But the body was flesh and the mind a fragile machine—without dreams to recalibrate, he would burn out from within.

Confusion versus clarity—he couldn't afford to fight on both fronts.

Still, River had a feeling those two hours would only grow shorter from here on.

As he stepped out of the Mooncrest Inn, the night greeted him not with peace, but with chaos wrapped in perfume and painted smiles. The Red Light District was alive, its veins pulsing with music, laughter, and sin.

Warm lanterns hung above the crooked street, casting golden halos onto damp cobblestone. Neon lights flickered from various taverns and clubs, each promising a different fantasy. Smoke curled from alleyways, the scent of grilled meat and cheap tobacco mingling with heavy perfumes and incense meant to arouse the senses. Every step River took echoed with muffled moans and drunken chants.

Pleasure had a smell—and it hit River like a wave.

Women in revealing dresses strutted under the neon signs of lust, their bodies swaying like dancers in a ritual. They leaned against bar entrances and lampposts, heels clicking, eyes sharp. When they spotted River, fresh-faced and clean despite the weariness in his gaze, they pounced like moths drawn to a rare flame.

Two women were faster than the rest.

"Hey, young man," purred one with long green hair, wrapping her arm around his. Her chest pressed against him like a sales pitch. "Want to have a good time tonight?"

"We offer all the positions," added the other, a short-haired blue beauty with a playful smile. "Anything you can imagine… for the right price."

"You know what?" Green-hair giggled. "You're kinda cute. We can give you a discount—just for tonight."

"Come on, sweetie. Don't be shy. We can see you want it too."

Then, without warning, the blue-haired woman reached for his crotch.

River's hand moved like lightning, snapping her wrist away with a sharp slap of the air.

"Ouch!" she yelped, recoiling. She looked at him with wide, offended eyes—as if she had been wronged. "What the hell?! We were just trying to have a little fun!"

"My apologies," River replied flatly. "My hand moved on reflex."

His tone was cool. His face? Even colder.

"Hmph! You say that, but your face says otherwise," she muttered, rubbing her wrist.

"Anyway," the green-haired woman chimed in again, eager not to lose a sale. "You sure? This deal won't last forever!"

River stopped walking, causing their eyes to sparkle with hope.

"I knew it," the green-haired one whispered excitedly. "You can't resist us."

River tilted his head slightly. "Do you know where the Fallen Sky is?"

The mood shifted instantly.

The two women exchanged wary glances.

"That place?" Blue-hair sneered. "Why would you go there? It's a dump."

"Yeah," said her partner, tugging at his arm. "Forget that hole. Come with us instead—we'll take better care of you."

River shook his head and pulled free. "Sorry. But no."

He walked away without another word, leaving the two women behind with their glares following him.

"Not even that handsome," the blue-haired woman scoffed. "And he acts like some prince?"

"I bet he's broke. Probably why he's going to that loser place!"

A few meters away, River nearly stumbled—not because they were wrong, but because they were exactly right.

"Damn those girls…" he muttered, gritting his teeth.

But he didn't turn back.

Shaking his head to cast off the bitter sting of their words, River continued walking deeper into the Red Light District, his steps steady despite the filth pressing in from all sides.

Women tried to throw their bodies on him, calling out, not because he was handsome—but because he looked like he might still have a coin or two to spare. It wasn't about charm here. It was survival, desperation, lust… business.

And even if River wanted to indulge for just a moment, to forget the weight on his shoulders—he was, in the most practical sense, homeless.

But he wasn't here for fleeting comfort.

River had a mission—one far more critical than a night of shallow pleasure. His true goal was defeating the 4th Dimensional Beings. If he couldn't crush them outright, then at the very least, he would stop them from invading this dimension. But that would require preparation, time, and more than a little help. It would require walking twisted paths, negotiating dangerous roads, and trusting dangerous people.

The Red Light District of Voulton City… was just one of many such roads.

That was why he came here immediately after the Awakening Ceremony.

River didn't want fame. He didn't need it.

He wanted to grow in the shadows, to nurture his strength in silence until the day came when no one could ignore his power. But to do that, he needed allies—not the shining, righteous type, but the kind who dealt in secrets and silence. People who lived in the cracks of society. People who survived in darkness.

And one of those shadows was known as Fallen Sky.

After asking around—carefully, discreetly—River finally stood before its entrance.

It didn't look like much.

In fact, it looked like it was one whisper away from collapsing.

The building was sunken between two louder, flashier bars, its wooden sign half-hanging, faded letters barely visible under layers of grime. "Fallen Sky" was scrawled across it in a looping, almost sarcastic script. The walls were cracked. Moss grew where sunlight didn't reach. A broken lantern flickered above the doorway, casting a weak orange glow.

River let out a breath—half sigh, half preparation—and walked toward the door.

As soon as he pushed it open, the raucous noise of the Red Light District vanished. Like stepping into another world.

The air inside was thick with the stench of old sweat, alcohol, and something metallic—possibly blood.

The place was dim, lit only by sputtering greenish bulbs that looked like they hadn't been changed in years. Dust floated in the air like ash. The bar counter, scratched and chipped, stretched across the far end of the room, unattended. A crooked shelf of liquor bottles stood behind it, most of them half-empty, labels peeling.

And the stage…

A wooden platform sat to the right, where thin, worn poles leaned at awkward angles. Torn curtains drooped from above like shredded silk.

No music played. No dancers moved.

Only the sound of heavy breathing.

In the corners of the room, several figures lay slumped—drunk, unconscious, or worse.

River's eyes narrowed.

The women in the room were… far from what he expected. Fat, haggard, their faces heavy with old makeup, their clothes either torn or barely hanging on. One woman with a missing tooth giggled as she humped a passed-out man who had long since stopped reacting. Another scraped coins from a drunk's pocket while stroking his hair.

No rhythm. No life. No customers worth noticing. Just a graveyard of broken bodies, empty dreams, and tired moans.

"This… is the Fallen Sky?" River muttered, blinking.

He stepped forward, his boots sticking slightly to the floor.

Despite the filth and darkness, River's expression didn't shift. He came here knowing what kind of place this was. A façade. A cover for something deeper.

Somewhere in this ruin was the contact he needed.

And if not, he'd dig until he found someone who could bring him there.