On Monday, April 6, 2025, at 9:54 AM, inside classroom 7 at Ahmed Zabana High School—a room designated for first-year students in the science stream (Group 7)—Boutaleb and Ishaq were sitting at the third desk. They were positioned in the third row from the door and the second row from the teacher's desk.
Ishaq was listening to the mathematics teacher with intense focus; he had faced a stern reprimand for scoring 10.72/20 in the first term—a significantly poor result compared to his usual performance, which typically reached 15/20.
Glancing toward his friend, Boutaleb, he noticed that Boutaleb was completely lost in thought, a pen held between his lips. Puzzled, Ishaq took the pen from him, a faint smile playing on his own face as he stifled a laugh.
Yet, Boutaleb's expression remained unchanged. He reached into his pencil case and pulled out another blue pen, placing it in his mouth with the same vacant, unfocused look. Ishaq repeated the action several times, his own expression shifting into one of confusion.
Then, he caught a subtle smile on Boutaleb's face. Realizing he had been tricked, Ishaq understood that his friend had snapped out of his daze moments earlier—right when the pen was first taken from his mouth.
The two boys exchanged amused, mocking glances, then burst into hushed laughter over the whole situation.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!" Boutaleb leaned back in his chair, glancing at his companion, and spoke in a hushed tone so the teacher wouldn't overhear:
"I'm feeling exhausted today. It's been such a long day, even though we're only in the second period."
A sigh, heavy with boredom, escaped his lips as he fixed his gaze on the mathematics teacher for a few moments.
"You're right. Spending an entire hour studying this subject is absolutely draining, isn't it?"
A look of bewilderment and curiosity crossed Boutaleb's face as he turned toward Ishaq, who had already shifted his focus back to the teacher.
With a tone full of curiosity—and a hint of mockery—Boutaleb asked:
"Hey, what's going on? You seem incredibly keen on the lesson, even though I'm certain you haven't understood a single word."
Ishaq glanced at Boutaleb out of the corner of his eye. They had known each other since the second week of the term; despite living 15 kilometers apart in completely different areas, Ishaq was always open to forming new connections.
"Well, you're right about that. Last term, I finished with an overall average of 10.72 out of 20, and in math, I scored a 3.5 out of 20—and the 'punishment' that followed was far from merciful."
There was a clear note of frustration in Ishaq's voice as he jotted down some important information. Seeing this, Boutaleb began taking notes as well—his own academic results had been just as disastrous. Some time later, while they were busy writing down their mathematics lesson, Boutaleb remarked with clear sarcasm:
"I love reading Chinese manhua, Korean manhwa, and Japanese manga. I've watched almost every popular film—even some obscure versions from the nineties—but still..."
"What if there were a novel where every world within it was a complete, self-contained story? I mean, moving from one world to another would be like switching from *Ben 10* to *Adventure Time*. Wouldn't that be amazing?"
Isaac looked at him for a few seconds, laughing, then replied with a tone that carried a subtle, hidden mockery:
"If you were a fictional character, what name would you choose for yourself?"
Boutaleb pondered this deeply—but not before landing a hard punch on Isaac's shoulder, causing him a great deal of pain.
"I'd call myself 'The Great Outcast,' Ruler of Infinite Stories! I'd be magnificent, and you'd be nothing more than a wretched sidekick! Hahahahahahahaha!"
Isaac shot him a look of clear annoyance. Boutaleb, continuing in the same vein, asked again:
"If you were a fictional character, what name would you choose for yourself?"
Isaac's expression grew even more irritated as he continued writing, and he replied with a tone laced with both mockery and annoyance:
"Didn't you already ask me something about that novel of yours? What's it called?"
"It doesn't have a name; I just wrote a story about a prince of assassins—that's all. It's only a single chapter in my personal notes." A faint look of astonishment crossed his face as he continued:
"As I said, the character I chose is Gowther McTire—an assassin and a killer. Isn't that cool? But why do you ask?"
A calm smile spread across Boutaleb's face as his appearance shifted; he now had blonde hair and light crimson eyes. The 'Concept of Assassination'—an entity—gazed at him with an inscrutable expression.
Isaac, completely bewildered, looked around, only to find himself in a vast, empty void.
"What the hell is going on?"
Isaac's voice was laced with profound shock.
The world began to fade into a deep, impenetrable black, and a system window materialized before his eyes:
[Concept of Assassination Wing: Level 1: Memories of the Concept of Assassination] [Close]
The system window illuminated Isaac's face for a few seconds before vanishing. Suddenly, he felt as though he were plummeting from a great height, and he let out a piercing scream of sheer terror.
"Help meeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Gowther's eyes snapped open. He was in a state of total shock; sweat poured from his body, and tears of fear streamed down his face. His chest heaved rapidly, rising and falling with every frantic breath.
He let out a long, drawn-out sigh, trying to clear his mind. He recalled the dream—and the very words he had once spoken: "If I were a fictional character, I'd call myself Gowther McTire." It was the same name he bore now, and the same profession he currently held. How could he have chosen this name back in his life before entering the novel? These questions swirled in his mind, devoid of any logical answers—until he recalled that he himself was but a fragment of the concept of "assassination."
This realization dawned on him: Isaac was not truly Isaac, but merely a part of him; Yuta was not the real Yuta, but only a fraction. The same held true for Rikudo Navi, Christian, Nicholas Kazuhiro Leon, and Inuyasha Hagomi Fatsi—they were not the individuals he had once known, but merely shards of their true selves.
His heart began to pound violently. The fact that he was an incomplete existence—a mere fragment, no larger than the palm of a hand—triggered a memory: the day he broke through to the "Boundless" rank. He recalled the precise moment the ritual began, the instant it concluded, and the sight of his own face—rendered entirely, pitch-black.
Flashback
"Very well. Let us begin the ritual for advancement to the Boundless rank."Yuta's tone was calm as he looked toward Gowther—whose body shuddered instinctively the moment those words were spoken.
He removed the clothing covering his upper body, revealing a tattoo resembling a wing—the mark of the "Concept of Assassination"—before settling into a meditative posture.
He then fed the potions into the system, utilizing a feature known as "Instant Consumption," which allowed him to gain their effects without the need to drink them physically.
"Consume the potions. Given your capacity for infinite evolution, you'll be fine. Under any other circumstances, consuming this many would lead to death or insanity. So, focus on ensuring your body absorbs them—otherwise, you'll either die or lose your mind. Understood?"
Yuta's tone remained calm as he watched Gother, who was consuming the potions with intense voracity.
After several minutes, all the potions—concentrates of various concepts and laws essential for his advancement to the "Boundless" rank—had been fully consumed.
Gother drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and gently.
His body began to glow with a crimson radiance, mirroring his own crimson aura. The light intensified at his core, and his physical form began to dissolve into ethereal dust, which was then drawn into the heart of the glow.
Despite his body disintegrating into dust, he felt no pain whatsoever.
About one minute and forty-five seconds later, two gems emerged—one a light, vivid crimson, the other a dark, bluish-black red—resting close to one another. The expressions on the faces of Yuta, Leon, Inuyasha, Nicholas, Christian, and Kazuhiro remained calm as they gazed toward Gowther—who appeared in his true form: a fragment of a narrative known as the "Concept of Assassination." Since they, too, existed in similar states, they showed no signs of surprise.
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Inside Training Hall 005-G, located in the West Wing:
Two "essences"—one a bright, crimson red, the other a dark, bluish-black red—rested near each other. As they drew closer, the light they emitted grew steadily more intense.
"He's finished. It took him three full days. His talent is terrifying."
Christian's tone carried a hint of admiration as he watched the two fragments—the bright crimson one representing Gowther MacTire, and the dark, bluish-black one representing LS 04 76, a master of the Path of Death—merging into one.
Everyone watched calmly as Gowther's body began to take shape.
Leon erected a barrier to contain the energy, ensuring that no one outside would sense the sudden surge in power.
"Not much longer now; in fifteen minutes, he'll wake up."
Yuta spoke in a calm, steady voice as he looked toward the others. "Well, he spent three whole days reaching the 'Boundless' rank—but how, then, did 'LS 04 76' not take control of his body?"
"That leads to only one conclusion: they must have reached an agreement. I recall that Yuta killed nearly five billion people back when '01 00 BO'—the Master of the Path of Death—took control of him."
There was a hint of mockery in Kazuhiro's tone. Yuta, however, ignored the remark; yet, despite the taunt, both he and the others knew full well that had they been in his shoes, they would never have managed to reclaim their own bodies.
This brought them all to a single realization: Yuta was the most dangerous among them—not merely for his strength, but for his intellect. Eighty percent of his victories were secured through his mind and strategic planning, while only twenty percent came from direct combat.
Fifteen minutes later, Gowther's body had fully reformed. He opened his eyes slowly, struggling against the lingering pain—it took several minutes before he could fully keep them open.
He found everyone looking at him with joyful smiles. Even Yuta—who usually only smiled when he was about to orchestrate some catastrophe—wore a warm, genuine expression.
"Congratulations, Gowther—well done! By reaching the 'Boundless' rank, you've become the first mortal entity to do so in a million years—and at such a young age, too, especially now that a barrier exists to prevent entities from attaining the 'Boundless' rank so easily."
Yuta's voice was calm as he tossed a healing potion toward Gowther—a remedy intended to mend his mental state, which had been left in a catastrophic condition following the ordeal he endured during the Trial of Worthiness. Gowther drank it immediately; his mind was under immense strain from the depletion of his mental energy as he struggled to process and keep pace with everything he had witnessed and experienced within that strange world. To make matters worse—and further aggravate his headache—he could recall absolutely nothing of what had transpired, as if he had simply been asleep the entire time.
End of flashback.
Gowther gritted his teeth, staring at his own hand before shifting his gaze toward the mirror. There, he saw entities composed of highly complex narrative algorithms.
They began to scatter in all directions, revealing his true form: a crystalline fragment possessing two distinct colors—one belonging to him, and the other to his counterpart from the "Death Path" (LS 04 76).
Gowther could find no words. He couldn't help but wonder how the other fragments of the "Ruler Path"—the only ones like him—would feel upon learning the truth: that they were, quite literally, nothing—mere shards whose existence had no impact on the power of their original source.
Yet, the surge in his own power was terrifying—sufficient to erase the story *I Am Inside My Novel*, which contained the "Ruler Path" fragment known as "The Dragon Angel in a World of Fantasy." It could not possibly endure against the power of the "Assassination" concept alone—to say nothing of the combined might of the other twelve.
Gowther took several deep, measured breaths, channeling his energy in a manner unique to the MacTire family. As he calmed his heart and mind against the overwhelming pressure, he spoke in a tone of profound composure:
"System, display status menu." Gowther remained silent for several seconds before a system screen displaying his full statistics appeared; yet, his expression was not one of satisfaction.
[Host Profile]
Name: Gowther
Surname: MacTire
Age: 16
Gender: Trans-gender (Beyond Gender)
Race: Absolute Entity
Primary Aspect: The Concept of Assassination
Aspect Type: Main Aspect
Level: 1 - Early -
Synchronization Rate: 100%
Secondary Aspect: The Blessing
Aspect Type: Sub-Aspect
Synchronization Rate: 100%
Talent: ???????
Profession: Narrative Assassin
Title: Current Prince of Assassins
Rank: Boundless
Barrier Points: ?????
[Statistics]
Strength: ∞
Speed: ∞
Endurance: ∞
Durability: ∞
Mana: ∞
Aura: ∞
Qi: Ninth Stage: Beyond Immortality
Type: Transcendent Entity
Intelligence: Omniscient
Charisma: SSS
Luck: SSS
Gowther remained silent as he gazed at the two system windows, which had undergone a slight evolution; unlike before, they now concealed his specific abilities. What surprised him even more was that the descriptor following his aspect's synchronization rate had shifted from "Intermediate" to "Early."
He realized that the system had likely glitched due to the synchronization rate increasing at an exceptionally rapid pace within such a short timeframe. Yet, his encounter with the "Concept of Assassination"—the very creator of his aspect, and an entity of which he himself is a part—had enabled this swift rise in synchronization, even while he remains at the "Boundless" rank. He decided to close the system window, realizing he still had to ascend three full ranks to reach ORR-05—the second tier of his current "wing."
Yet, something struck him as odd: while there were three ranks within both the first and second tiers of these wings, there appeared to be no ranks at all between the second and third tiers.
This realization left him frustrated; breaking into the "Trans-Omnipotent" rank seemed impossible. Even Reinhardt—the most powerful progenitor entity in this fictional world—had only attained half of that rank.
He rose from his bed, feeling weary and reeking of sweat. He headed to the shower, annoyed by the memories that left him drenched—not in water, but in a cold, clammy sweat.
Thirty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, having bathed and changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes. He also replaced his bed linens—the eighteenth time he had done so this month.
He sat down at the dining table and began reading news about the Versalkin Academy Festival, which had concluded eight days prior.
[Breaking News]
A jester has died by suicide after falling from the academy's tower—a structure over 300 meters tall—resulting in a gruesome death.
The incident took place in the city of Gasemburg on the fourth day of the festival—Sunday, June 7, 675—at 8:30 PM.
The jester was 33 years old and is believed to have hailed from the Western Continent, as most of his performances had taken place there. Investigations led by a renowned detective named Tae-hoon are currently underway, with Detective Jaguarn set to join and continue the inquiry.
[Important News]
On Sunday, June 14, 675, at 7:30 AM, the remains of several individuals—all professors at the Versalkin Academy—were discovered by the perimeter guards.
The victims, numbering six, were identified as fanatical nobles. Evidence, leaked by an anonymous source, implicates them in the harassment of minors and women of various ages.
Soliver, the director of the Versalkin Academy, stated that he was aware of the incident and intentionally left their remains on display as a warning to anyone else who might contemplate such actions. Nevertheless, the matter remains a subject of public debate, raising questions about the status of the nobility and the credibility of the Versalkin Academy.
[Important News]
In interviews conducted on June 11, 675, at 8:30 AM, the Angelic Empress Noriana and the Elven Empress Veronia remarked that the festival was spectacular. They noted that while the local residents of Gasemburg were perhaps only moderately respectful, their conduct remained within an acceptable range.
Furthermore, they highlighted that the best establishment they visited—where they received truly proper treatment—was the "Ain Al-Sultan" restaurant. There, a waiter named Amin managed to serve four empresses from different races on the very same day. ........….....…
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Gowther spent several minutes reading the news on his phone, sipping coffee and enjoying some sweets to pass the time.
He then switched off the device, placed his teacup—with the refined, aristocratic grace of a nobleman—back onto its saucer, and tucked his phone away into his own personal pocket dimension.
Gazing calmly toward the ceiling, he gathered his scattered thoughts. He spoke in a tone that was perfectly composed, yet underscored by a profound sense of bewilderment:
"If an individual is, in every sense, merely a fragment of another entity, then what is the point of existence? Am I truly alive, or am I just an extension of my original self—Gowther McIntyre? Hahahaha! What a ridiculous name. I have no idea why I chose it in the first place—perhaps because it just sounded so lovely. Hahaha... then again..."
Gowther closed his crimson eyes, a fractured, bittersweet smile playing on his lips.
He opened them again, his gaze falling upon a system interface displaying something he had never encountered before:
[Mission: Assassinate an Embodied Novel]
Novel Title: *Where Demons Weep*
Protagonist: Suzars
Entity Type: Fantasy-World Demon
Reward: Fantasy-World Demon Gem
Mission Start: 10:00 AM
Gowther stared at the notification, his brow furrowed in confusion:
"A novel? What the hell is going on? Aren't I already inside a novel to begin with? No—that's not the most pressing question. Can novels actually manifest as demons? How bizarre!" "Wait a moment—isn't that the very gem Reinhardt obtained after completing the quest set by the 'ruler' of that novel? The one that allowed him to ascend to the rank of 'Trans-Omnipotent' after consuming a portion of it?"
A look of deep satisfaction spread across his face as he awaited his first assassination mission from the System in nine years. He was well aware that he would be facing a novel itself—manifested in the form of a demon.
The very concept was bizarre; the idea of battling a novel was difficult to even fathom—a challenge no entity would easily turn down. Yet, he would have to contend with a being that possessed the collective experience and abilities of everything that had ever existed within that narrative.
Gauther decided to remain at home to devise a strategy to defeat this upcoming adversary—an opponent unlike any he had ever faced in his entire life.