This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

River felt the cold edge of the blade pressing lightly against the back of his head. Still, he chuckled, raising both hands in a show of surrender as he slowly turned around to face her.

"I already told you," he said with a calm smile, "I know the future."

Freya's expression remained unchanged—cold, calculating. "Did I tell you my name?" she asked, her voice flat but suspicious, the grip on her sword never loosening.

"Freya Forman," River said smoothly. "You possess a Skill called Snow Sword. You're the leader of the underground network known as Snow Web. An orphan who was bullied because of her white hair. You burned down the orphanage in retaliation—but you didn't kill anyone."

Freya's eyes narrowed. Her body didn't move, but her presence grew heavier. River could feel the chill in the air deepen.

"I know all of that because I lived through the future," he continued. "Articles were written about you. People obsessed over your story—not just because of your power, but because of your mystery. You were both feared and admired. Especially after your death."

He paused.

"Your secrets came to light… except one. The real reason why you despise the Government and the Association. That part remained a mystery, even in the future."

Freya said nothing, but her silence was loud. Her knuckles were pale around her sword hilt.

"And yes, you told me everything," River added with a shrug.

That was a lie.

The great White Knight would never lower her guard long enough to open up to some weak F-rank Hunter. Especially one with a pitiful Skill like Bubblecrafter.

Helio, the Sun God Mage, bullying people for fun? That was believable. But Freya Forman? She barely acknowledged anyone. Her war was with the system. The Government. The Association.

Despite being the leader of a powerful syndicate, Snow Web, she had garnered a cult following—sympathizers who believed she was doing what no one else dared to.

River wasn't one of them. Not really. He wasn't against her, but he didn't cheer for her either. Back then, he was just curious. Fascinated, even. He'd spent nights reading about her, digging into every piece of information he could find. It became a strange sort of hobby—learning everything there was to know about the enigmatic Freya Forman and other interesting Hunters.

And now, she stood before him. Real. Alive. Dangerous.

Freya remained silent for a while. Then, her sword vanished in a flurry of snowflakes, evaporating into the air.

"That doesn't prove you really can see the future," she said at last, brushing her robe aside.

The sudden movement caused her robe to fall open—revealing her bare skin beneath. Her two giant melons and the mound below.

"Ah—" River immediately looked up at the ceiling, fighting the instinct to lower his gaze. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus. "Then… what do you want me to do to prove it?"

"There's no way the Aptitude Pillar missed an ability like that," Freya murmured, tapping her fingers on her chin thoughtfully. "I erased every trace of my past… yet here you are, repeating it like a biography."

She narrowed her eyes, intrigued. "You're either lying… or you're trying to reel me in with a perfectly crafted bait. So let's hear it—your proposal."

"I've been trying to tell you since the beginning," River sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm cautious. That's all," she said, unfazed, before gliding back to her seat and crossing one leg over the other.

River coughed into his fist to refocus.

"I want your cooperation. Let's be partners," he said. "I know future events—catastrophes, opportunities, people worth saving, and those that need stopping. If we work together, it'll benefit both of us."

He leaned in slightly, voice firm.

"But I want full control of your network. No interference. You don't get to dictate my actions. If you still doubt me, I can tell you what's going to happen next—something no one else could possibly know."

"Network? That's all?" Freya raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with suspicion.

"Money, resources, influence—anything that can help me," River replied evenly, his tone neutral.

"Help you with what?" she asked, leaning slightly forward, eyes narrowing.

"For personal reasons."

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Tense.

Neither of them moved. The air felt still, as if the room itself was holding its breath. They stared at each other, unflinching—two people trying to read the other without giving anything away.

Then, suddenly, Freya broke into laughter.

"Haha… hahahah!"

The sound erupted from her throat like a dam bursting. She leaned back, one hand pressed to her stomach, laughing freely, not caring how she looked. There was no elegance, no mask—just raw, unrestrained amusement.

River frowned, confused. What's so funny?

He kept quiet, studying her as the laughter went on, watching the future White Knight fall apart from amusement.

Did I say something stupid?

Finally, after a long moment, she caught her breath and leaned back into her seat, eyes still glittering with the aftershock of her amusement.

"You're insane," she said, a grin tugging at her lips. "You walk in here claiming to know the future like some back-alley prophet, and now you're asking me—me—to share my entire network because of 'personal reasons'?"

She shook her head, scoffing. "You do realize how ridiculous this sounds? Even the Aptitude Pillar didn't record this ability you're claiming to have. And trust me, that thing doesn't miss."

River remained silent, unbothered.

"And even if, by some insane miracle, all of your words are true…" She leaned closer, her tone sharpening. "What makes you think I won't just sell you off to the highest bidder? Someone like you—unknown power, knowledge of events that haven't happened—do you have any idea how valuable that is?"

A small smirk played on River's lips. He finally spoke.

"You could sell me," he admitted. "But you won't."

"Oh?" Freya said mockingly. "And why's that?"

"Because you hate the Government," River said quietly, firmly. "And the Hunter Association. Probably more than I do or maybe our hatred is the same."

Freya's smile froze.

"That's why you're not an active Hunter anymore, isn't it?" River continued. "Something happened. You learned something. Something they wanted hidden. And just like you… I know things too. I've seen how they operate in the future. And it's worse than you think."

She didn't answer, but River noticed the shift in her breathing. Slightly sharper. Controlled.

"If what I'm saying is true," he said, tone low and deliberate, "then you won't sell me. You'll keep me. Not because you trust me. But because you want to use me. Because you haven't reached your goal yet—and something tells me you're not the type to let an opportunity slip by."

Freya exhaled slowly, her chest rising with a deep breath as she tried to keep her face unreadable. River saw the subtle tension in her jaw.

He'd struck something.

"I should report you," she murmured, almost to herself.

"But you won't," River replied without hesitation.

Freya's eyes sharpened, locking with his. Silence again. The tension returned, but this time, it had a different edge. One of consideration.

"…Fine," she said at last, sitting up straight. "You think you're smart? Prove it."

Her voice was colder now, but steadier. More measured.

"Tell me one thing. One verifiable event. Something that's going to happen—soon. If it does, I might consider your ridiculous proposal."

She folded her arms. "And don't think I'll be easy to impress. You have one chance."