This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

River stared at the white-haired woman seated before him, the robe barely clinging to her shoulders, the faint scent of perfume still lingering in the air.

He hadn't said a word yet.

This woman—Freya.

In the future, she would be known across the world as the White Knight, though her actions would paint her in anything but heroic light. Contrary to her title, she would rise as one of the most wanted criminals in history, leading a vast and brutal villain organization that would plunge entire regions into chaos.

She would declare open war against two titanic forces: the Government and the Hunter Association.

Countless theories would emerge about her reasons. Some claimed she lost someone. Others said she simply hated corruption. But one thing would be certain—she would become such a threat that both the Government and the Association would pour everything they had into trying to erase her from existence.

Even the Sun God Mage, never dared to cross her.

That alone spoke volumes about the terrifying power she would one day wield.

And the reason for her infamous title, White Knight?

It came from her devastating Skill: Sword Snow.

A single slash from her white blade could split mountains in half, sever a soul from its body, and imprison it for eternity. No resurrection, no reincarnation. Just a cold, eternal silence.

Thousands would fall to her sword—some with their souls crushed beyond repair, others trapped forever in limbo.

But that future was still far off.

Right now, Freya wasn't a world-ending villain. She wasn't even an active Hunter. Her Skill's full potential remained unknown. She was simply the leader of a small underground gang operating in the shadows of Voulton City.

And yet, River had heard whispers from the future.

Her influence and information network already reached across the entire continent.

For a group so small to command that kind of reach? It was more than impressive. It was terrifying.

Two villains in one city… River exhaled slowly. Voulton really has a thing for breeding monsters.

Still, there was a reason he sought her out. He didn't trust the Government, and the Association wasn't much better. But Freya… her war against them—whatever the reason—might align with his own path someday. Something deep in his gut told him she wasn't just lashing out blindly. There had to be a purpose behind her actions.

And if that purpose matched his…

Then they might not be enemies after all.

He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

"You didn't randomly lash out at me," River said, his gaze steady as it met Freya's silver-like eyes. "Why is that? From what I've heard, you're not the type of woman who lets a man even meet your eyes without consequence."

Freya leaned back, a smirk forming on her lips. "Throwing a question back at me?" she mused, her eyes narrowing. "Bold. Very bold. But like I said earlier, you piqued my interest. From the moment you asked where my bar was, I knew you were different. No one's mentioned the name Fallen Sky in years, much less searched for it. So tell me, kid—why should I let you leave this place alive?"

The atmosphere shifted, growing dense and colder, like frost was beginning to form in the air. The temperature in the room dropped just enough to prickle the skin, as if warning of something dangerous beneath the surface.

But River didn't flinch.

"Because you'll want what I can do," he replied calmly, unfazed by the change in temperature. "I can be useful to you. And you to me. A mutual exchange, with clear boundaries."

Freya raised an eyebrow, interest flickering once more in her eyes as she crossed one leg over the other and rested an elbow on the armrest. "A proposal, then. I'm listening. Go on."

"I know future events," River said firmly, each word delivered without hesitation.

He'd been wrestling with the decision all week. Should he reveal this? Should he play this card now? Was it too soon?

There was always a risk. Always a chance that Freya wouldn't believe him—or worse, that she would. But considering the scale of what he hoped to achieve, River knew he needed more than strength or talent. He needed a foundation. A network. Influence.

He needed Freya.

Not just for her power or resources, but because of the web of connections she controlled. Some of the dungeons River planned to conquer were hidden and obscure. In the timeline he came from, only a handful of people ever found them—and those few rose to become monsters among men, titans that reshaped the world's power structure. River wanted to get there before they did.

And to do that, he couldn't act alone.

"Future events?" Freya's voice turned colder. Her expression hardened. Then, with a tap on her table, a holographic screen blinked into existence in front of her, its light casting sharp shadows across her face. "You're lying."

River couldn't see what was on the screen—it was encrypted for her eyes only—but from the way her expression tightened, he knew she'd pulled up his Hunter file.

Her hand lifted slightly, and suddenly, a swirl of speckled white light shimmered into existence in the space before River. It pulsed once before hardening into form.

A sword—sleek, elegant, and beautiful in a deadly way—hovered in the air, tip pointed at River's chest.

The blade resembled frosted glass, faintly translucent with veins of icy blue light running along its edge. Snowflakes danced along its surface like it breathed winter. The hilt was wrapped in white leather, bound in silver wire, and cold mist spilled from it as if the sword itself rejected warmth.

"Any last words?" Freya asked, her voice calm, almost bored, as she looked up from her screen.

River glanced at the gleaming sword for a moment.

The Snow Sword—silent, elegant, and deathly.

And yet, River smiled.

The smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, calm and deliberate, as if the blade didn't exist at all.

Freya's pale brows furrowed. Her silver eyes narrowed with restrained fury. "You still dare smile?" she hissed, stepping forward with an edge of disbelief. "Even when my sword is pointed at your heart?"

She waved a hand and the holographic screen behind her flickered again.

"I just looked up your Hunter's record. You awakened yesterday—F-rank. And your skill?" She scoffed. "Bubblecrafter. What a joke. You should be grateful I haven't already carved you into ice. Do you even realize how pathetic that sounds?"

The sword pressed against River's chest, sharp enough that he could feel the first layer of skin giving in, and with it, an arctic chill surged through his entire body. The cold seeped into his bones.

Still, River didn't waver.

"Freya," he said calmly, voice steady as stone. "Calm down."

The room went still.

For a heartbeat, Freya's eyes widened.

"You—" she whispered.

But before she could finish, her body dissolved into a flurry of snowflakes, spiraling upward in a burst of white. The sword vanished with her.

River stiffened as a sudden presence appeared behind him—icy and silent.

Then, he felt it.

The unmistakable pressure of cold steel at the back of his head.

Freya stood behind him, her Snow Sword reformed and gleaming in her grip, her voice low and laced with danger.

"You know my name," she said, her breath frosted and slow. "Who are you?"