Author's Note: Please enjoy and do comment ^^ I decided to finish this whole work first before posting any part of it...it just felt perfect that way.
addendum: I've changed/will be changing certain minor details all across the story to better fit with the lore nowadays, the events from my other Jhin stories, The Angel in the Night and Opening Night, both of which are set in the same continuity.
- SV
BEAUTY
In carnage, I bloom...like a flower in the dawn
Prologue
The League of Legends was a place of all sorts, it is said.
Wonders and Champions hailing from far and wide; across and even beyond Runeterra.
Some joined freely, some for duty, and some because they had no other choice.
He thought of himself as a curious mix of all three.
He joined freely—for he lived for the applause that his performances were guaranteed to bring.
He joined because of duty—for it was his task alone, to set the perfect stage.
He joined as he had no choice—for this was his love; his art was a compulsion and he can never stop.
Let the fools who thought him to be their lackey think that he joined because they commanded him to.
Such arrogance...
He supposed he should be thankful in some part.
For in the League he was at last free to show his talents—his art—for all Runeterra to behold!
Every kill he made was applause—indeed, he lived for the cheers his audience would give.
It was glorious, even though he knew that none of his erstwhile opponents would stay dead.
He enjoyed it nonetheless, and saw it as an opportunity to perfect his craft.
He also knew...more than any other that all great things must come to an end.
He had planned such from the very first day he had stepped foot in the Fields of Justice.
Truly, he enjoyed his time in the League, but time was precisely what was running out.
His masterpiece cannot wait forever.
Perfection cannot wait forever.
He had no intention of leaving behind a legacy of great works without a crown jewel at its peak.
Four more days left to fulfill his duties as an Ionian champion, four more days of beautiful music that only Whisper could compose.
A four month retreat was arranged by the League of Legends' governing body to allow every champion a chance to reconnect with their roots, settle unfinished businesses, or simply let their hair down for once.
He certainly looked forward to it; though relaxation was far from his mind.
Four months, he reflected. If destiny truly existed, then certainly this was going to be his moment.
The pièce de résistance of his very existence.
All in good time, he told himself, as the blue light that signified the summons enveloped him, all in good time.
Loading Whisper with four expertly crafted bullets and setting her with four clicks to her barrel, he smiled from beneath his ivory mask.
It was music to his ears and he cast his long laid out plans to the back of his mind.
With a smile on his face and a song in his heart, Jhin the Virtuoso strode proudly into battle.
Beautiful...
He had missed the taste of homegrown Ionian tea.
Foreign beverages could never hope to produce that perfect balance between strength and delicacy, he thought while gazing out the ship's viewport.
He was going home at last to Ionia along with his fellow Ionian champions.
He was alone in his quarters aboard the Harbinger and though he had all worldly comforts at his beck and call, there was only one real word for that charade.
A prison.
His weapons had been taken from him upon boarding and he had literally been locked in his quarters for the whole trip.
Not that he had much choice in the matter. He was still a criminal in his countrymen's eyes.
A criminal.
A murderer.
A madman.
They call me mad? All artists are mad...
He was an artist.
His work was pure.
How do they not see this?
But he supposed it was fate.
I am a revolutionary.
Artists were rarely ever appreciated. Much less someone like him.
My genius will be understood—eventually.
The red-gold rays of the setting sun reminded him of the title his people had given him when he was still an unsung hero.
The Golden Demon.
They had meant it as defamation. He took the insult and treated it like a title fit for royalty.
He may be a demon, but he was golden.
Pure.
Precious.
Perfect.
He had since given himself a new title.
I am the Virtuoso.
It was a title he had proven in the Fields of Justice. His only desire was to glorify it, over and over again, and always, always in a more grandiose fashion.
What beauty there is in terror! What glory there is in death!
In those olden times he had used blades. Simple, effective and capable of producing beauty to be sure.
Alas, they were but passé when compared to what pieces he had made ever since receiving Whisper.
His work in the League was proof enough. It did not matter who they were.
He made them beautiful. He made them perfect.
He found it darkly amusing knowing that his countrymen shunned him while all across Runeterra his performances found applause.
He also knew that somewhere in that same ship his fellow Ionian champions were also present, his old captors among them.
It was entirely possible that they were discussing him at this moment.
Passing judgment on him, like a common thug
Oh what joy it would be...to make you all sing, and dance, and die...he dreamily thought.
But the Virtuoso was a patient man.
He would return to Ionia in chains; a pariah in his people's eyes, cast out in shame when in truth he was the oriflamme of the grandest of arts.
He was still in a contemplative mood, seeing the moon and stars rise in the place of the slowly-burning sun.
As will I.
Soon the glowing lights of his idyllic island home came into view and Jhin smiled.