Kaen Vexis stood in the middle of an improvised square in the heart of Zaun, his beat-up electric bass slung over his shoulder like a legendary sword. The square was classic Zaun: a tangled mess of dripping pipes, flickering neon lights, and an aroma that could only be described as burnt oil mixed with rancid spices. A handful of passersby moved along, wrapped up in their own business. Kaen, however, saw an audience begging to be dazzled.
He cleared his throat, face blank as a wax statue, and raised his hands in a theatrical gesture straight out of a shonen anime."People of Zaun!" he declared, his monotone voice clashing magnificently with the flair of his movements. "Today is historic! I, Kaen Vexis, the musical prodigy this world doesn't deserve, shall deliver a concert so powerful it will shake the very towers of Piltover!"
A few heads turned—more out of curiosity than any real interest. A skewer vendor muttered something about "another lunatic." Kaen, unbothered, strummed the rusted strings of his bass. The sound that came out was a discordant howl, like a cat tripping over a live wire. But to Kaen, it was divine music.
"Behold!" he said, voice flat as ever, fingers moving with absurd confidence. He had practiced for exactly thirty minutes that morning in an alleyway, with only rats for an audience. He was convinced he was a once-in-a-millennium genius—a Mozart of Zaun—despite his "technique" resembling someone mashing buttons on Guitar Hero in beginner mode.
The "concert" began. Kaen closed his eyes, swaying dramatically as he played a series of notes that sounded like a dying engine."Feel the passion!" he shouted, raising one arm like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. "This is the soul of Zaun, captured in string!"
The "audience" grew—but not for the reasons Kaen imagined in his delusions. A group of teens with neon-colored hair strolled up, laughing. A couple of bored thugs paused to see what the fuss was about. An old lady with a frying pan lingered because she thought Kaen was selling something. Even a stray dog with a blinking mechanical eye sat down to watch—though it was probably just hoping for food.
Kaen, lost in his fantasy, didn't notice that the crowd was more entertained by the spectacle of a madman than by the "music." He strummed harder, the bass shrieking so horribly that a nearby toddler started crying."This is art!" Kaen shouted, spinning dramatically like he was in a music video. His violet eyes gleamed, his fangs flashed in the neon light, and his silver-white hair danced like it had its own ambitions.
"Behold the riff of destiny!" he cried, striking the strings with such force that one snapped with a sharp twang. Kaen didn't even flinch."That was part of the show," he announced, pointing to the sky like the broken string was an offering to the gods.
The crowd's reactions… varied. The teens were doubled over with laughter, one yelling, "Play something that doesn't sound like torture!" A punked-out thug hurled an empty can at Kaen's head, which he dodged effortlessly—a reflex courtesy of the Shimmer in his veins."A critic!" Kaen said, pointing an accusing finger at the thug. "Your soul is simply unprepared for my genius!"
The mood started to shift. The thug, clearly insulted by being labeled a "critic," stood up, his mechanical arm flexing ominously."Say that again, bastard," he growled, stepping forward.
The teens, ever hungry for chaos, began to boo—some siding with Kaen, others with the thug. The old woman with the frying pan, having decided Kaen was a threat to public peace, started yelling at a nearby vendor for "letting maniacs play noise pollution."
Kaen, blissfully unaware of the disaster he was orchestrating, kept playing—or rather, assaulting—the bass. The sound was so awful that a nearby stall selling vials of Shimmer accidentally flipped a table when the vendor tried to cover his ears. The glass shattered, the purple liquid spilling across the pavement. That was the spark that lit the powder keg.
"My merchandise!" the vendor shrieked, lunging at the nearest teen, convinced they were to blame. The teens shoved him back, and in seconds, the square became a warzone. Thugs jumped in, fists flying at anyone nearby. The frying pan lady swung wildly at a guy trying to steal a cracked vial. The dog barked like mad, zigzagging between legs.
And in the center of it all, Kaen kept playing, his face expressionless, his gestures increasingly over-the-top."Feel the rhythm!" he cried, just as someone flew through the air behind him, a victim of a badly-aimed punch."This is musical revolution!"
From a nearby rooftop, Jinx watched the whole thing unfold, legs dangling and a bag of stolen candy in hand. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, her blue braids bouncing as she slapped her knee."Pffft—HAHAHA! This guy's a walking disaster!" she wheezed, nearly falling off the edge."Look at that face! He's murdering that bass, and everyone's murdering each other! It's perfect."
Kaen finally noticed the chaos. A shattered bottle whizzed past his head, which he dodged smoothly. He looked around, taking in the scene: fists flying, frying pans clanging, Shimmer flooding the street under neon light. His expression didn't change, but he raised an eyebrow."Huh. I guess my music is... inspiring," he murmured, as flat as ever, with a hint of pride.
Without losing a beat, he slung the bass over his back, took one step back, and slipped into a side alley with the nonchalance of a man who just left a building on fire and pretended it wasn't his fault."Art requires sacrifice," he said, gesturing like he was delivering a farewell speech."Zaun, you'll thank me later."
As he walked away, humming a tune as horrid as the concert, the fight in the square kept escalating. A thug hurled a barrel that exploded on impact, spilling more Shimmer. The teens screamed "THIS IS EPIC!" as they dodged flying fists. The old lady, now in full berserker mode, chased anyone within range, frying pan raised like a holy relic.
Jinx, still on the rooftop, wiped a tear of laughter from her eye."Oh, weird boy, you're a gift," she said, munching on candy."This is better than explosions." She pulled out a notebook from her belt, scribbling something down with a mischievous grin."I'm definitely following you. You don't find someone who causes this kind of chaos without even trying every day."
Several blocks away, Kaen stopped in front of a puddle reflecting the neon lights. He stared at himself: bass slung over his back, messy white hair, violet eyes glowing like their own source of light."First concert, overwhelming success," he said, voice flat, hands gesturing like he'd just sold out a stadium."Next stop: global fame."
He turned and kept walking, unaware of Jinx tailing him through the shadows, or the mayhem he'd left behind. In his mind, he was a misunderstood genius, an artist destined to reshape Zaun through his busted bass. In reality, he was a gremlin with a supernatural talent for summoning chaos and walking away unscathed.
And as the sounds of the brawl echoed behind him, Kaen Vexis—with his blank face and absurd confidence—was already planning his next move.
"Maybe a duet," he murmured, plucking a broken string that let out a dying whine."Or maybe… conquer Piltover with my music." His eyes gleamed, and for a second, the world seemed to hold its breath, wondering what kind of disaster this transmigrator would unleash next.