This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

Freya Forman sat silently in her private room, her posture relaxed but her mind far from it.

A massive widescreen panel stretched across behind her, designed to simulate the majestic snow-capped mountain ranges of the north. Hail lightly tapped against invisible speakers, crafting a soundscape so convincing it felt like the mountains were just beyond the glass. In truth, this room was still on the first floor—connected to her bar.

Her silver eyes remained fixed on the door where the strange young man had exited not long ago. River Faelan. That name echoed in her thoughts like a whisper she couldn't silence.

She tapped a sensor beside the table, and a blue holographic screen blinked to life atop the table before her. Lines of data scrolled upward—his Hunter registry file.

"River Faelan…" she muttered under her breath, curiosity laced within her voice.

She skimmed the contents again, this time slower, more meticulously. His starting stats were abnormal—strong, yes—but nothing so outrageous to explain the confidence he carried. Then her gaze landed on the Skill entry.

Skill: Bubblecrafter (Negative F-Rank).

Her brow creased.

"Bubblecrafter?" she said aloud, resting her chin on one gloved hand. "That's… supposed to be a Skill?"

She scoffed, though her thoughts lingered. Creating bubbles? How could something so childish exist in the Hunter system?

Yet it wasn't the Skill that kept her attention.

It was him.

She recalled the conversation earlier in vivid detail. He had made a bold claim—more than bold, outrageous even. A prediction that sounded like madness at first.

…

"In two weeks' time," River had said, "water will surround Voulton. Sea monsters will rise, and many will die. By the time the city understands what's happening, it will already be too late."

Freya had leaned forward then, her tone turning sharp.

"You're saying… the ocean will come back?"

River nodded. "Yes. But only for the duration of their attack."

She narrowed her eyes. "The Mayor isn't a fool. There are dozens of advanced detection devices stationed near the coastlines. Any significant oceanic movement gets flagged within minutes. Do you really think they'll just allow Voulton to be swallowed up by water? That's suicide."

Her words had been sharp, logical.

But River hadn't flinched.

"If that's how you see it," he'd replied, shaking his head slowly, "then I'm disappointed."

Then came the question that chilled her:

"Why do you think the city will be surrounded—unless someone wants it to happen?"

…

Freya's breath caught as her mind reeled back to the present.

She wasn't a naïve girl. She had learned to see beneath the surface long ago. And River's insinuation had been clear the moment he said it.

"An inside job…" she whispered now.

Her fingers clenched on the armrest.

It made too much sense.

The protective infrastructure, the sea barriers, the automated defenses—they were practically impenetrable unless someone from the inside disabled them. But who would dare? And why?

"What's the benefit?" she had asked him earlier, and even now the answer evaded her.

River had only shrugged and said,

"I'm not sure. It could be, or it could not. But this is my proof. You'll see soon enough."

Freya stared at the screen again, at the young man's picture.

He was either insane… or absolutely terrifying.

And if he was right—

A smile crept across Freya's lips, though it was far from warm. It was sharp, predatory—the kind of smile that could send a chill down any man's spine. Killing intent danced in her silver eyes like lightning behind storm clouds.

"If what he said is true," she murmured, "then he'll be of great use. I can move forward… finally."

Her gaze shifted to the snowy mountain illusion outside the virtual window, but her thoughts weren't on the tranquil view. She saw a different future—one where the suffocating grip of the Government and the Association crumbled under her feet. A future built on fire and rebellion. Her rebellion.

But just as quickly, that vision faltered.

Her smile faded.

"He knows my background…" she whispered, her brows drawing together. "He said I'm the one who told him everything."

Her voice cooled to ice. "Did something happen between us in the future?"

It didn't make sense. Freya Forman wasn't the kind of person to carelessly reveal herself to others. Not even to someone close. Relationships—whether romantic, platonic, or transactional—never earned her full trust. She made sure of it. She didn't even trust the Freya in the mirror.

She went to great lengths to bury her past. Even the Association's top investigators couldn't scratch the surface. Her records were wiped. Her true Skill erased from the Aptitude Pillar's archives. Only a handful of people knew the truth—and they were either paid well or dead.

If River knew her background… if he knew her Skill…

Then he might know more.

Much more.

Freya's fingers danced across the console. The holographic screen in front of her shimmered to life, casting a cool blue glow over her face. She tapped a sequence.

A dial tone rang out, accompanied by the bouncing bars of an audio equalizer. After several rings, the line connected.

"…Why are you… calling me… this hour?" came a drowsy female voice.

"Lira."

The name alone was enough. On the other end, rustling and thuds echoed as the woman scrambled upright. A forced cough followed.

"Ehem! Boss! Do you need something?"

"Someone knows my real name and background," Freya said, voice sharp and controlled. "Do you know anything about this?"

A brief pause. Then, a flurry of panic.

"Th-that's impossible, Boss! We scrubbed everything! Every file, every trace! Not even the Association could link you to your old records!"

Freya said nothing.

She trusted Lira's team. They were thorough. Efficient. Loyal. If they cleaned the records, they stayed clean.

So how did River know? Is he really telling the truth?

She let out a slow sigh. "That's all."

Just as her finger hovered over the disconnect icon, Lira's voice cut back in.

"Ah! Wait, Boss! I almost forgot—I've got some juicy info!"

Freya leaned back in her chair. "I'm listening."

"You know Nolan? That cocky golden-haired Hunter? He lost his cool yesterday. Completely wrecked part of the Awakening Center. Staff said he was tearing through the place looking for someone."

Freya's brow lifted slightly. "And who might that be?"

"I did a little digging. Turns out, he had some kind of altercation with a candidate inside the Dungeon. Name came up on the damage report. River Faelan."