Chinobyou, or in simpler terms, middle school syndrome.
It is a not-so-rare condition that affects mainly middle schoolers, although it has tragically—nay, horrifically—affected far too many "grown-ups" too.
The condition makes its victims delusional, believing they have some ridiculous grand powers. And unfortunately for humanity, our dear protagonist caught it a few years ago… and never recovered.
It all started when he saw that anime with the blonde ninja who had the ultimate special power known as Talk no Jutsu, the ability to annoy villains into becoming your best friend.
Of course, of course, Jason didn't want that special power. No. He wanted them eyes.
Eyes that could switch like changing a light bulb. Red for "I'm going to beat you up." Purple for "I'm going to beat you up, but cooler." And some weird patterned one for… dramatic effect, probably.
Jason trained diligently for these eyes. By "trained," I mean he stood in front of his bathroom mirror squinting for three hours a day until his mom banged on the door screaming, "You're gonna get wrinkles before 20!"
One time, he even drew the pattern with a black marker on his eyeball. That was a bad day. He spent the evening at the hospital explaining to the doctor how "the seal must be broken for the power to awaken."
But the worst part was that, he kept upgrading his "lore."
At first, he was just a normal kid with a mysterious past. Then suddenly, he was the last surviving prince of the Moonlight Shadow Clan, destined to fight the Evil Council of… Math Teachers? Just don't ask. He had his reasons.
Now, years later, he's technically a grown up, 16 to be precise, but still firmly believes in his "hidden powers." The only thing that's changed is his target audience, he doesn't try to impress his classmates anymore.
Now he tries to impress total strangers on the bus.
"Do you feel it?" he'll whisper to some poor guy sitting next to him, "The ancient curse between our bloodlines?"
The stranger will move seats.
Of course, the stranger wouldn't get it. They are not special as he was!
The syndrome was that powerful...
"I… I'm really in a novel…"
Jason looked down, grinned like an idiot, then jumped up like he'd just won the lottery. Now that the immediate threat was gone, he could finally—finally—take a good look around.
And then his lips trembled again.
"So it's true! The great lord Jason has entered a novel!"
He spread his arms like a B-grade movie messiah.
"If this isn't proof that the One Above All favors this humble subject, then what is?"
Bending down, he scooped a handful of sand, kissed his finger dramatically, and pointed to the sky.
"To the gods above, my sponsors, I thank thee for this divine opportunity! Ha ha ha! This younger disciple will use this chance wisely!"
Closing his eyes, he let the morning chill pass through him like he was in a shampoo commercial. And then, just like the heavens were confirming his transmigration, he felt droplets of "heavenly water" splash on his face.
His grin widened.
"Thank you, oh heaven, for your warm—"
Sniff. Sniff.
"But… why does your heavenly water smell… weird?"
He opened one eye, swiped a finger across his cheek, and froze. The excitement drained from his face faster than his phone battery at 1%.
For some reason… the divine water was white.
And then came the chirping. Above him.
Like laughter.
"Shit—!!"
He leapt back in horror. It wasn't water. It wasn't divine. It was literally… shit.
Yes, indeed, the birds have pooped on his face.
The heavens had indeed blessed him, just not in the way he'd hoped.
...
Jason stood there, wiping his cheek with the edge of his sleeve, gagging slightly.
For a normal person, this would have been a disgusting, humiliating moment.
But Jason… Jason was no normal person.
His eyes narrowed.
"So… the heavens test me already."
He looked up at the birds circling above. In his mind, it wasn't a flock of birds anymore, it was the Sacred Sky Messengers, delivering an omen of unimaginable importance.
"This… isn't just bird poop, this is… the Holy Seal of the Sky Tribe!"
Jason muttered, touching his chin like a philosopher.
A gust of wind passed by, carrying a few grains of sand into his mouth. He spat them out but maintained his expression of deep enlightenment.
"Yes, I understand now… the gods are telling me to remain humble!"
He raised a fist dramatically.
"To carry the burden of my destiny with grace! Even if… even if that burden is white, slimy, and smells like a public restroom in summer!"
The birds above chirped again. To Jason, it was clearly speaking an ancient language.
"Kaw kaw… Ah, wise elders, I hear your words," Jason replied with a bow. "Your blessings, though unconventional, are received."
Another tumbleweed rolled past. Jason took it as another sign.
"Ha… so the path of the protagonist truly begins with trials!"
He declared, striking a pose that looked like a mix between a kung fu master and someone about to sneeze.
"Bird poop today… dragon blood tomorrow!"
He took a deep breath, then began to think.
"Hmmm… if this really is the novel I'm thinking of… then where in the timeline am I?"
[The Man Who Burned the Night.]
That was the name of the WebNovel he had been binge-reading for the past three weeks before his untimely death…
No, no—not death! More like… before he was chosen by the heavens. Yes, that sounded much cooler.
He closed his eyes and nodded sagely to himself.
The novel was your typical YA, overly dramatic, aura-farming story for teenage boys who liked swords, glowing eyes, and monologues that lasted three chapters.
Naturally, our dear Heaven's Chosen got completely addicted to it.
The hero of the story, Clint "Fangbreaker" Callahan, was your standard tragic-protagonist template.
One night, a hungry vampire slaughtered his entire family. Parents, little sister, little brother, random uncle, you name it, and all of them were dead.
In a single night, Clint went from "average teenager" to "walking revenge machine." He swore to wipe out every last vampire on the continent.
The rest of the novel followed Clint's rise as a vampire hunter, meeting eccentric allies, facing terrifying enemies, and collecting more emotional scars than actual scars.
Along the way, he fought countless vampires… and sometimes humans… and occasionally suspiciously good-looking hybrids that were obviously made to sell fanart.
Fanarts, a certain someone diligently bought...
"But if its that webnovel, then who am I...hmm...Aha! I can know a way! All i have to do is..."