As Zhou Yi asked Mystique to convey his invitation to Magneto, Erik, Wolverine, Logan, encountered a very important opponent in his life.
Because Rogue was asked not to leave Ororo and Jean, Grey's sight, Logan could only follow a group of troublesome women around all day long. This was not a pleasant feeling for him.
If it was just being with Jean, Grey or Rogue, maybe he wouldn't feel bored, but if he was with four or five women, three or four of whom were still young girls, it was definitely a huge challenge to his tolerance.
Logan was never a good-tempered person. If it wasn't for Jean, Grey, the woman who made him feel unusually fond, and Rogue, who made him feel like family, maybe he would have gone berserk and quit his job long ago. But for the sake of these two people, he still endured it. It wasn't until the group returned from their outing that he finally loosened the taut nerve in his head.
And because the process was too painful for him, he now urgently needed to release his pressure. What method does a mature old man need to release his pressure? In fact, there are only a few, and the most common ones are tobacco, alcohol, and women.
Women were very common for Logan. A man as weathered as him didn't need to pick up girls; girls would naturally come to him. So he had had a great many women in his long life, most of whom were just passing acquaintances, and only a few left a deep impression on him. And the most tragic thing was that an experience made him forget all this, and he forgot a very important woman for him.
Although he found this feeling back in Jean, his instincts told him that there was actually a gap. Maybe because of these reasons, he didn't have the idea of finding a woman this time.
As for tobacco, Logan, who already had a forty-year anniversary edition of the finest cigars, could be said to have no desires. So naturally, he came to the bar.
Perhaps it was the lingering memories in his bones, but Logan didn't like those noisy nightclubs. Instead, he preferred the nostalgic, old-fashioned bars. Especially those with a struggling singer performing, filled with soothing music – those were the places he loved to linger.
Even though he was new to Paris, with a sense of smell sharper than a dog's and the instincts of a seasoned old drunk, Logan didn't have to work hard to find his target on a street that seemed to have some history.
This somewhat old bar was called Pride of the Lion King. The name sounded quite imposing, but upon entering, it only made one feel a sense of fading glory. The bar was filled with old tables and chairs, and the scent of rosin permeated the air. Instead of feeling that the place was old, one felt a precious imprint of the years etched within.
On the stage, a seemingly decadent singer was softly humming, and the melodious music echoed through the bar. In the not-so-bright light, the glassware on the long bar reflected a gentle luster.
Combined with the intoxicating aroma of alcohol, and the low whispers and laughter of the patrons, standing here was enough to make one feel a sense of time suspended, flowing slowly.
This was Logan's favorite feeling; he felt like he had come home as soon as he walked in. Compared to the things of the present, these old things were perhaps the most profound in his memory.
"Whiskey, on the rocks!" Sitting down at the bar, he said to the somewhat balding, plump bartender, then Logan pulled out a cigar and puffed away contentedly.
The bartender quickly pushed a glass of whiskey with ice in front of Logan. Perhaps because there weren't many customers, he didn't leave and instead wiped the glasses while saying to Logan.
"You seem new here. Is this your first time?"
"Me and a few buddies just came over from the States. Didn't expect to find a place with this kind of atmosphere!" Logan downed the whiskey in his glass in one gulp, then tapped the table, signaling the bartender to refill it. In this relaxed environment, he didn't mind chatting with the bartender for a bit.
"We don't get many like you these days." The bartender refilled Logan's glass, sounding somewhat wistful. "I inherited this bar from my father. It's been around for over seventy years. Not many people come here anymore. Mostly regulars. Tourists like yourself usually don't bother with places like this."
"Hmph! Those youngsters just don't know how to appreciate things. This is the only kind of place worth stopping at." Logan sneered, expressing his opinion.
"If there were more folks with your taste, I'd be thanking the heavens." Watching Logan drink down his whiskey again, the bar owner helpfully refilled his glass, then said generously, "This one's on me!"
Logan raised his glass, thanking the owner for the kind gesture, and closed his eyes to savor it. Seeing that another customer had entered, the owner stopped chatting and went to attend to them. Suddenly, Logan's side became quiet. This was a familiar situation for Logan. He was, after all, a lone wolf.
This changed when a somewhat familiar figure approached him. It was a tall, white male, over two meters tall, with a powerfully built physique that radiated intimidation. His most striking features were his eyes, which were narrowed like a big cat, and the slight glimpse of a canine tooth. The somewhat worn, loose trench coat and shaggy hair made him look more like a vagrant than a customer.
Perhaps because of his intimidating appearance, the bar owner didn't try to stop him, but let him approach Logan and sit down beside him.
When he sat down, Logan finally noticed his arrival. This was highly unusual for the lone wolf. His instincts and senses were no less than those of a real animal, yet he had no inkling of the person beside him. So when he discovered this guy, he immediately became alert.
Perhaps not everyone was hostile, but this person was definitely an enemy to him. This was not only because they had fought before over Rogue, but also because his soul was constantly warning him. As a lone wolf, he trusted this feeling even more than what he saw with his own eyes.
"Looks like you know who I am?" The tall man had a lazy expression on his face, like a large feline. He squinted at Logan, and unceremoniously grabbed a bottle of Whiskey from the bar and poured it directly into his mouth.
After a long while, he put down the bottle. Casually wiping the liquid from his beard with his tattered sleeve, he asked Logan, "If you could, I think you should tell me, otherwise you won't get a chance later."
"Do you think I would know the name of a stray cat?" Logan retorted rudely, a fierce look on his face. This was his instinctive reaction; his instincts took over more when dealing with this person. "And, I don't think you need to know. Because even if you did, you wouldn't have a chance to celebrate."
"Really? Then it doesn't matter." Slowly opening his eyes wide, the tall man exuded the wild and violent aura of a ferocious beast. "They call me Sabretooth, I think that name is not bad. So, you disgusting guy, you can go die."
With that, he directly reached out his large hand and swung it fiercely towards Logan's position. As he did so, the black nails on his five fingers suddenly shot out, and the sharp nails looked no different from the claws of a beast, and in fact, their power was even greater.
Hearing the wind, Logan barely managed to dodge. Sabretooth's claws immediately landed on the bar, the old wood was no different from paper in front of his claws, and a large amount of wood chips had been grabbed in his hand with a harsh friction sound.
And at this moment, looking at the bar, the five deep claw marks were enough to make anyone's heart skip a beat.
After Logan dodged the attack, he immediately launched a counterattack. The Adamantium claws that emerged from between his fingers suddenly extended, and the weapon crafted from Adamantium sliced towards the enemy before him with a chilling wind.
Logan had no intention of holding back against his enemy, especially this opponent he had fought before. He didn't think there was any need to hold back.
When Logan's claws swung towards Sabretooth, the large mutant immediately leaped backward. His massive body displayed an agility that was entirely unimaginable. Consequently, Logan's attack landed on empty space. His claws futilely split the seat Sabretooth had just been sitting on, but it didn't affect the mutant himself in the slightest.
As they began to fight, the crowd in the bar began to flee in a panic from the dangerous scene. This included the owner who had been chatting with Logan earlier. If it were an ordinary fistfight, the owner might not mind using the Remington under his counter to teach them a lesson, but if it involved two mutants, he could only obediently leave the scene first.
Mutant battles were not something ordinary people could interfere with. It was a life-or-death situation, and the human population, which had already learned from many previous cases, had long formed its own understanding.
The two mutants in the fight were not at all disturbed by the chaotic crowd. They began to stare at each other, slowly moving around, searching for the most suitable moment to attack. At this moment, the one who lost their patience first was often the one at a disadvantage.
But Logan still chose to attack first. Relying on his immortality and his body of steel, he wanted to defeat his enemy in the fastest way possible.
So he roared, brandishing the claws on his hands, and shot towards Sabretooth like an arrow.
Sabretooth, who had been watching Logan closely, sidestepped just as Logan reached him. Taking advantage of his height and reach, he closed his five fingers and used his steel-like nails to stab at Logan's back. He wanted to see if his claws could rip out the heart of this annoying guy.
Sabretooth's advantage was obvious; his arm reached Logan's back first. Thus, before Logan could touch him, he had already used his claws to tear away a large chunk of flesh from his back.
The pain of the flesh wound caused Logan to emit a ferocious growl, but an indescribable emotion took over his body, causing him to ignore the pain. Instead, he straightened his arm with more force.
The Adamantium claws plunged directly into Sabretooth's ribs. The invincibly sharp blades sliced through his muscles, bones, and internal organs. When he roared and pulled his left hand out of Sabretooth's body, he could even see a half-severed kidney and intestines lingering in the massive wound.
Logan wasn't faring well either. A wound the size of a bowl had been gouged out of his back, and a shimmering metallic luster flickered within the horrific wound. The Adamantium bones protected his heart, preventing Sabretooth from actually ripping it out. Even so, his situation wasn't good.
Of course, he looked much better than Sabretooth.
-----------------------
Completed English PDF of this fan-fic on my Patreon shop if you want to support and own the full fan-fic in one go. Just grab the PDF and binge the entire story from start to finish!
Guys, I've uploaded some High Quality english translated fanfic on my Patreon shop! Feel free to check it out-if you're interested, you can grab a copy and support me there.
Here are a few titles of recently uploaded fanfics:
New Addition
" Marvel: I Trade Uncle Ben for Punishment—Spider Appears! "
" In the Marvel World, I Am a Super Genius! "
" American Comics: Transforming into Tokisaki Kurumi "
" Marvel: A Wizard Descending "
" DC universe: Days of Being a Magic God in Marvel "
" Marvel: Starting from Loading the Shadow Army "
" A Certain Summoner of American Comics "
" Druid's Marvel Travels "
" The Stand User of the Marvel World "
" A Certain Unscientific Marvel Scientist "
" Superman in American Comics "
" My World: My Daily Life in Marvel "
many more are available 82+
Your support means a lot-thanks in advance, legends!
patreon.com/SuperTL
(End of Chapter)