This F-Rank Bubble Mage Is Too OP!

"I am here to meet Wave!"

River's voice rippled from the shimmering bubble that encased him, vibrating like a frequency unleashed into the depths. The sound was strange—less like words and more like pulses of energy carried through the water, each syllable resonating in rhythmic waves. The ocean currents twisted with his intent, spreading the declaration far and wide.

He could feel the mana drain slightly as his voice transformed into vibrations that pierced the stillness, reaching the ears—if they could be called ears—of the sea monsters gathered before him.

Then… silence.

A profound, unsettling quiet settled over the abyss. The only sound was the faint hum of River's protective bubble and the distant echo of pressure shifting in the deep. His own breath sounded loud inside the sphere as he stared back at a wall of monster eyes, glinting like submerged gemstones under the dim blue glow.

"Did… my voice fail?" River muttered under his breath, brows furrowing.

The lack of response made him confused. He prepared to try again, mana already coiling like mist around his body—when a sudden, deafening screech tore through the water.

Screeeechhhhhh!

The cry wasn't from one creature—it was from all of them. A hundred throats harmonized in a primal, bone-rattling chorus that sent the currents into chaos. Shockwaves slammed against his bubble in violent waves, each impact like a battering ram. The sphere quivered, light rippling along its surface, but it held strong, a fragile fortress against the wrath of the deep.

River frowned, one hand steadying himself against the inner curve of his watery cocoon. His mind focused. If this breaks… He didn't finish the thought. Instead, he watched. Observed.

It wasn't rage. The monsters weren't attacking. Their sounds were… agitated, yes, but almost ritualistic. As if his words had struck something deep inside their collective instinct.

"Oh," River whispered, realization dawning as their screeches crescendoed, then abruptly died, vanishing like someone had slammed the ocean's mute button. The silence that followed was heavier than before—weighted, almost reverent.

River exhaled slowly, tension loosening in his shoulders. "It worked," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His voice carried no arrogance, only wonder. "They… understood me."

The abyss pulsed with unspoken acknowledgment.

Then, the impossible happened.

One by one, the sea monsters moved—not toward him, but aside. At least two meters tall bodies undulated gracefully, their forms melting into the shadows as they created a clear path in the endless blue. Their movements were deliberate, solemn. And then, as if rehearsed, their heads dipped—bowing. Not to him, River immediately realized what was happening.

The water grew heavier, denser. A pressure he hadn't felt before after coming back to the past pressed against his bubble, as though the ocean itself was holding its breath.

River's pulse quickened. His gaze lifted toward the dark chasm beyond the living corridor of monsters. Something was coming. Something giant.

The water trembled.

It wasn't the chaotic ripples from earlier—this was something deeper, heavier, as though the ocean itself recognized the arrival of something ancient. River's gaze swept across the corridor of bowing monsters, and then he saw it—movement, slow and deliberate, emerging from the abyss like a dream from another world.

At first, it was only a silhouette, an immense darkness gliding closer. Then, the faint shimmer of bioluminescent patterns began to pulse through the water—streaks of blue, violet, and green tracing elegant, curved lines that spiraled like veins of light. The glow intensified, revealing the full monstrosity.

Wave.

She was enormous—at least two or three stories tall. Her core body resembled a colossal octopus, but instead of a single bulbous head, her form tapered into an elongated structure, flowing with strange, delicate fins that moved like ribbons. Her tentacles stretched out endlessly, their surfaces etched with runic patterns that glimmered faintly, each appendage undulating with grace that belied their raw power.

And then there were the wings.

They were not literal wings, of course—nothing that could carry her through the air—but vast, translucent flaps extending from her sides, shaped like butterfly wings, rippling with radiant hues that shifted like oil on water. Every slight movement sent shimmering waves of color into the darkness, painting the abyss in surreal beauty. It was mesmerizing and terrifying at once—nature's elegance fused with a predator's perfection.

River found himself frozen for a heartbeat, a primal instinct whispering to flee. How many creatures like her did I kill in my last life? He had faced horrors that could level continents, yet seeing this… it tugged at something inside him. Nostalgia. Awe. Maybe even respect.

Back then, beings like this were just mobs—annoying obstacles on the path to real threats, he thought grimly. But now… seeing her treated like royalty? Impressive. It means they're already organizing. The tide's coming sooner than they think.

The silence between them stretched. Then, a voice—not spoken but pressed directly into his mind—echoed through his thoughts like the rumble of distant thunder.

"Human…"

The single word vibrated with ancient weight, layered with menace and curiosity. It resonated inside his skull, the tone too vast to belong to something mortal.

River didn't flinch. He had expected this. He said nothing, letting her speak further.

"You are… different. What gives you… the right… to say my name?"

Her tentacles curled like serpents in slow, hypnotic patterns, one of them slithering forward, brushing the bubble's surface—not enough to break it, but enough to remind him how fragile his existence was here.

River tilted his head, calm. "You're not asking how I know your name?"

A low pulse of sound rippled through the water—a soundless laugh, if such a thing could exist.

"In this domain… there is only one who dares send… a human to their death," Wave replied, her words dragging like tides across his thoughts. Another tentacle traced the curve of his bubble, its suckers flaring with pale luminescence. "But different… yes, you are different."

River smirked faintly. "Yeah. I'm more handsome than the others."

The joke slipped out naturally, a mask for the razor-edge tension beneath his composure. Both knew the game they were playing. Wave already suspected why he was here. Her words confirmed something important—that someone in Voulton had been contacting her. Sending messengers. Possibly negotiating. Interesting…

"All of you… look the same," Wave said after a beat, her voice brushing against the walls of his mind like a cold current. "Answer… before I crush you. What gives you… the right… to speak my name?"

River raised both hands, palms out. "Whoa, no need to get violent. Like you said—I'm different. And that difference? It's why I'm here. I carry news that will affect you. Big news. Something even you can't ignore. And that gives me every right to say your name."

Silence.

The tentacle froze mid-motion, hovering inches from the bubble. Then, slowly, it withdrew, coiling back toward the leviathan's body. For a moment, River thought she would attack anyway—but instead, the pressure in the water deepened. Her wings flared slightly, sending streams of color rolling through the abyss like auroras.

Finally, her voice slid back into his mind—softer this time, but no less imposing.

"…He sent you… with important news?"

River caught the nuance—the faint lilt of suspicion. She was probing, testing him. Threatening, yet oddly… uncertain. Like a child mimicking authority. A being that had power, yes, but lacked the subtlety of emotion. It reminded River of something from his past life: some monsters could speak, but language didn't make them human.

"Yes," River said firmly, meeting the gleam of her massive, compound-like eyes. His tone carried conviction, even though every word was a lie. He had come here for one reason: to twist the threads of fate. To nudge events toward chaos.

Lying was just part of the craft.

Besides, Wave already believed someone was sending envoys. All he had to do was lean into that assumption. No need to earn her trust from scratch—she'd given him the foundation herself.

"…What's the news?"

The question hit his mind like the echo of a deep bell, vibrating through his bones. Her tentacles floated lazily now, but he could feel the coiled strength in every sinew. If she didn't like his answer, she wouldn't hesitate to crush him like an insect.

River exhaled slowly, letting the tension coil around him like a second skin. This was it—the moment to steer the narrative. His next words would shape more than just this conversation.

A grin tugged at his lips—not arrogance, but something sharper, more dangerous.

"Before I tell you…" he said, his voice steady, rippling through the water, "…promise me you're not going to crush me or kill me once I deliver the news. If I don't come back to the city, your plan will go to waste."

Wave's silence was deafening, her massive form shifting ever so slightly as the bioluminescent runes along her tentacles pulsed faster—like a heartbeat.

"Speak," she commanded at last.

River adjusted his clothes inside the bubble, clearing his throat with a few soft coughs. Then he opened his mouth and began delivering the 'news' he had come up with on the spot.