Just as Zhou Yi asked Mystique to convey his invitation to Magneto Erik, Wolverine Logan also encountered one of the most important adversaries of his life.
Because Rogue was instructed not to stray from Ororo and Jean Grey's sight, Logan was forced to follow a group of troublesome women all day long. This was not a pleasant experience for him.
If it were just spending time with Jean Grey or Rogue, he might not feel annoyed, but with four or five women, three or four of whom were young maidens, it was an enormous challenge to his patience.
Logan was never one to have a good temper. If it weren't for Jean Grey, a woman he had an unusual fondness for, and Rogue, who felt like family, he might have long since exploded and quit. But for these two, he stubbornly endured until the group returned from their outing, finally releasing the tension in his mind.
The process in between had been so agonizing for him that he now desperately needed to release some stress. How does a mature old man relieve his stress? There are only a few ways, and the most common among them are tobacco, alcohol, and women.
Women were common for Logan; a weathered man like him didn't even need to pursue women—they would naturally pursue him. So, in his long life, he had many women, most of whom were fleeting acquaintances, with only a few leaving a lasting impression.
The most tragic part was that one experience caused him to forget it all; he forgot a woman who was very important to him. Although he found that feeling again with Jean, his instincts told him there was a gap. Perhaps for these reasons, he had no intention of finding a woman this time.
As for tobacco, Logan, who already possessed a 40th-anniversary edition premium cigar, could be said to have no desires. So, quite naturally, he headed to a bar.
Perhaps due to lingering memories in his bones, Logan disliked those boisterous nightclubs and was more drawn to nostalgic old bars. Especially those old bars with struggling resident singers and soothing music were his favorite places to linger.
Although he was new to Paris, relying on his scent more sensitive than a dog's and his intuition as a seasoned old drunk, Logan effortlessly found his target on an old street.
This somewhat aged bar was called 'Lion's Pride,' which sounded quite imposing. However, upon entering, one could only feel a sense of twilight. The bar was filled with old tables and chairs, and the pervasive scent of pine resin filled the air. This made one feel not that it was old, but rather that it held a precious imprint of time.
On the stage, a slightly decadent-looking singer hummed softly, and melodious music echoed through the bar. In the not-so-bright light, the vessels on the long bar counter reflected a warm luster.
Adding to that the intoxicating aroma of alcohol, and the mingled whispers and laughter of the patrons, stopping here was enough to make one feel as if time had stilled, flowing slowly.
This was Logan's favorite feeling; as soon as he stepped in, he felt like he was home. Compared to modern things, these old things were perhaps the more deeply etched presences in his memory.
"Whiskey, on the rocks!" Logan plopped down at the bar, ordered from the balding, plump bartender, then pulled out a cigar and happily puffed away.
The bartender quickly pushed a glass of whiskey with ice in front of Logan. Perhaps because there weren't many customers, he didn't walk away, but instead wiped glasses while speaking to Logan.
"The customer looks a bit unfamiliar. Is this your first time here?"
"A few of us just came from the U.S., and I didn't expect to find such a charming place here!" Logan downed the drink in his glass, then tapped the table, motioning for the bartender to refill it. In this relaxed environment, he didn't mind chatting with the bartender a bit longer.
"Not many people think like you do nowadays," the bartender said, refilling Logan's glass with a sigh. "This bar was inherited from my father, and it's been over seventy years old now. Not many people come to places like this anymore. Most are just regular customers. Tourists like you aren't really willing to come to such places."
"Hmph! Those kids just don't know how to appreciate it. Only places like this are worth lingering in," Logan scoffed, stating his opinion.
"If there were more people with taste like yours, customer, I'd really have to thank God," the bar owner said, watching Logan finish his drink again. He refilled it automatically and declared quite generously, "This one's on me!"
Logan raised his glass, thanked the owner for his kindness, then narrowed his eyes and began to savor the drink. Seeing new customers enter, the owner stopped chatting with him and went to attend to them. For a moment, Logan's surroundings became a bit quiet. This situation was quite familiar to Logan, as he was a lone wolf himself.
This situation continued until a somewhat familiar figure walked up beside him. It was a tall White male, over two meters tall with an absolutely robust and burly physique that made him appear imposing just by looking at him. The most striking features of his rugged face were his eyes, squinted like a Big Cat's, and his slightly exposed fangs. His somewhat tattered, loose trench coat and messy hair made him look more like a vagrant than a customer.
Perhaps because of his intimidating appearance, the bar owner did not try to stop this fellow, but allowed him to walk up to Logan and sit beside him.
Only when he sat down did Logan realize his arrival. This was extremely unusual for the lone wolf. His instincts and five senses were no less keen than a true animal's, yet he had no inkling of the person beside him. So, when he discovered this fellow, he immediately became alert.
Perhaps not everyone harbors hostility, but this person was definitely an enemy to him. This was not only because they had previously clashed over Rogue, but also because his Soul was constantly sending him warnings. As a lone wolf, he trusted this feeling even more than the facts he witnessed.
"It seems you know who I am?" The tall man's face showed a lazy expression, like a large feline. He looked at Logan with narrowed eyes, but unceremoniously pulled a bottle of liquor from the bar and poured it directly into his mouth.
After a long while, he put down the bottle. He casually wiped the liquid from his beard with his tattered sleeve and asked Logan, "If you can, I think you should tell me, otherwise you won't have a chance later."
"Do you think I'd know the name of a stray cat?" Logan retorted unceremoniously, a fierce expression on his face. This was his instinctive reaction; when dealing with this man, his instincts took over. "Besides, I don't think you need to know. Because even if you did, you wouldn't have a chance to celebrate."
"Is that so? Then it doesn't matter." Slowly opening his eyes wide, the tall man exuded a savage and violent aura like a Vicious Beast. "They call me Sabretooth, and I think that name's not bad. So, you disgusting fellow, you can go die."
At this, he directly extended his large hand and swung it fiercely towards Logan. As he did so, the black nails on his five fingers suddenly shot out a section; the sharp nails looked no different from a wild beast's claws, and in fact, their power was even greater.
Logan, hearing the wind, barely managed to dodge. Sabretooth's claws immediately landed on the bar counter. The aged wood was like paper in front of his claws; with a grating sound, large handfuls of wood chips were already in his hand.
Looking at the bar counter then, five deep claw marks were enough to make anyone tremble with fear.
After dodging the attack, Logan immediately counterattacked. The Adamantium claws between his fingers extended sharply, and the weapon made of Adamantium, with a chilling whoosh, slashed towards the enemy in front of him. Logan had no intention of holding back against an enemy, especially this one he had already fought before; he didn't believe there was any need to hold back.
When Logan's claws swung towards Sabretooth, the tall Mutant immediately sprang backward, his massive body displaying an unimaginable agility. So, naturally, Logan's attack missed. His claws futilely cut through Sabretooth's recently vacated seat, but had no effect on the actual person.
As they began to fight, the crowd in the bar began to scatter in chaos, fleeing the dangerous scene. This even included the owner who had just been chatting with Logan. If it were a normal person's brawl, the owner might not mind giving them a lesson with the Remington under his counter, but if it were two Mutants, he could only obediently leave first.
A Mutant's battle was not something normal people could interfere with. That was a life-threatening act, and humanity, with many precedents, had long formed its own understanding.
The two fighting Mutants were not at all disturbed by the chaotic crowd. They began to eye each other, slowly circling, looking for the most opportune moment to attack. At this point, the first one to lose patience was often the one to suffer.
But Logan still chose to attack first. Relying on his immortality and steel-like bones, he wanted to defeat this enemy as quickly as possible.
So he roared, thrusting out his claws, and charged towards Sabretooth like an arrow from a bow.
Sabretooth, who had been intently watching Logan, swiftly dodged the moment Logan reached him. Exploiting his advantage in height and arm length, he directly closed his five fingers and used his steel-cone-like nails to stab towards Logan's back. He really wanted to see if his claws could gouge out the heart of this annoying fellow.
Sabretooth's advantage was exceptionally clear; his arm reached Logan's back first. So, before Logan could touch his body, he had already gouged out large chunks of flesh from his back with his claws.
The pain of the flesh being torn caused Logan to let out a fierce growl, but an indescribable emotion dominated his body, making him ignore the pain. Instead, he straightened his arm with even greater force.
The Adamantium claws plunged straight into Sabretooth's flank. The indestructible sharp blades directly cut through his muscles, bones, and internal organs. When he roared and pulled out his left hand, which was embedded in Sabretooth's body, one could even see a half-severed kidney and intestines coiled within the massive wound.
Logan was not doing well either; a bowl-sized chunk of flesh had been gouged out of his back, and a faint, shimmering metallic glint flickered in the terrifying wound. His Adamantium skeleton protected his heart, preventing Sabretooth from truly gouging it out. Even so, his situation was not good.
Of course, compared to Sabretooth, he looked much better.