Chapter 48: An Immortal Walks Into Another Bar

“Final-fucking-lee! Ugh, I think I’m motorcycle-sick…” It was nighttime and Michael close to the eye of a huge storm, so it was raining and thundering all around him. However, the tornado had finally dissipated, and as it did, the transparent sword was thrown downwards. Of course, things are never quite that simple.

The obsidian skull-mask turned into a pitch-black tattoo on his forehead, before vanishing into his flesh. Then he sucked the ‘Nyan-Master 5000’ into his inventory and stretched his body out. It was a little chilly and seemed to be getting colder by the minute, but it wasn’t enough to bother him much. He continued wearing the black hooded cloak, because he thought it made him appear ‘mysterious’.

Michael muttered “I wonder if I should put the veil back on? Or would that make people try to rape me? Like, I remember that it had some sort of super aphrodisiac powers… Meh, there’s no reason to hide my face; it’s not like I’m famous, right? Hehehe~…”

He was standing in the middle of a large intersection, with huge piles of wrecked cars and the corpse of demonic cows everywhere. On the northwestern side of the road, there was a huge red-brick house, along with a fairly large garage and even a barn. Surrounding it were tall chain-link fences, which weren’t much of a deterrent on their own; however, there were a decent amount of ‘watchtowers’, which were essentially just tree-houses. Inside of those buildings were snipers and heavy gunners, that occasionally fired off a few rounds into the darkness, attempting to eliminate any monsters that came close.

There was a big signboard in front of the property’s main gate, which read “Tom’s Bar, Steak-House and Inn! No Mutants! Trading Only!” Considering the violent storm in the sky, visibility was pretty bad for the look-outs, so no one even noticed the Nephilim until he reached the bulletproof gatehouse window.

A middle-aged pale-skinned woman with her grey hair in a bun, was sitting on a wooden stool inside of the tiny building. There was a small hole, which her twelve-gauge shotgun barrel was poking out from; her blue eyes were glaring at the strange man, as she shouted “Take off the fuckin hood! Show me yer face!” She was fairly overweight, wearing large jeans, plus a red and white plaid shirt.

Michael sighed, getting close enough to the window that she could easily see his brightly-glowing crimson irises. However, the rest of his face was relatively ‘normal’, so he casually said “I can see in the dark pretty well… Am I considered a ‘mutant’ by your standards?”

She stared at his face for a few seconds, before cackling and telling him “Nah~, ya ain’t one uh them animal freaks! Go ahead an open the gate on yer own, but make sure ta close it after yer in dare!”

The chain-link gate was split into two halves, which needed to be slid apart. Typically, people would drive their cars or trucks through it, but Michael obviously didn’t need to open it that wide.

Walking down the asphalt driveway, he noticed a decent amount of vehicles parked to his left and right. He could also hear the sound of loud country music coming from the huge house up ahead, and the windows were all illuminated. “Fuck my life… Talia said the sword was somewhere around here, but it’s basically invisible, and buried underground. Yeah~, there ain’t no way I’m gonna find it tonight, so I might as well stay at this ‘Inn’ heh~.”

As the Nephilim was entering the building, that woman at the gatehouse had a sinister grin on her face. She picked up the black CB radio off of her desk, while looking down at a binder with hundreds of photographs inside of it.

The lady ‘quietly’ yelled “Hey Jeb! We got uh big-un dis time! Name’s Mike Cinagra and he ain’t even carry-in no guns! Careful though, ya know how sneaky them psychics can be! Best ta use the ol’ honey-trap on em!”

“What?! Goddamn it Justine! Why in the hell’d ya let that bastard in here?! Shit! Ya should’ve just shot em! Fine, I’ll tell Jessie ta do the ‘usual’…” An angry and raspy voice was shouting, with a lot of noise in the background.


Michael groaned, grumbling “Ugh, I can deal with country music, but why the does it have to be karaoke?! It’s like listening to a cow giving birth onto a banjo, while a dog is fucking a cat in the ass, on top of a broken piano! And that’s only the vocals! Thankfully they’re just ‘singing’ to the record, or I’d probably have to gouge my eardrums out, to preserve my already dwindling sanity.”

On the stage was a beautiful woman, with curly red hair and a huge, body-builder, with a handlebar mustache and tattoos all over his giant arms, neck and bald head. The man was wearing a studded leather vest, with a white tank-top, along with unnecessarily tight jeans that displayed his bulging thighs and halves. In fact, the two of them were actually wearing matching clothing, down to the brown boots with stirrups.

The room was crowded with lots of drunk men and women, so the majority of them couldn’t tell how horrible the singing was. They could only somewhat see the blurry images of those two ‘performers’; of course, the ‘real’ show started once the song ended.

That beefy man and busty girl began stripping off their already ‘light’ clothing and dancing to a song called “My Truck Couldn’t Fit In Her Garage”. The whole room suddenly became extremely rowdy, as everyone began cheering, whistling, and Michael could see a handful of people who were casually having intercourse or simply ‘fooling around’ in their booths.

He muttered “Well, at least I don’t have ta listen to that awful shit anymore… Ugh, it ain’t that bad when I’m watching porn, but this is a lot grosser in person. Ew, I almost stepped on a used condom! For fuck’s sake! It didn’t say that this place was a cesspool on the goddamn sign!”

As the Nephilim walked over to the bar, he noticed that there was only a single person sitting at the very center. Like him, they were wearing a black hood, but the difference was that they were smart enough to cover their face with a confederate-flag bandanna. It was difficult to tell whether that person was male or female, since they didn’t expose any features except their blue eyes and blonde brows.

Staring at the shot-glass in their hand, filled with whiskey, he or she seemed to be debating whether or not they should drink. An assault rifle was strapped to their back and a glock was holstered on each hip; just like everyone else in the room, except for Michael, that mysterious person was obviously heavily armed.

The bartender was a gorgeous tan-skinned woman with questionably large and perky breasts; she wore hot-pink pants and a tight-fitting white shirt, without a brassiere. As soon as the Nephilim sat down a few stools from the mysterious cloaked person, he immediately and shamelessly gazed at the practically transparent blouse, asking “What is this place, a strip-club? Ugh, it’s not a brothel, right?”

Her green eyes opened wide when she saw those glowing crimson irises and she felt as if her mind had become totally blank. Only after a few seconds passed, did she smile cheerfully and respond “This ain’t no whore-house, but we allow our customers ta do as they please… If ya find a guy or gal who’ll screw ya fer a favor, drugs, or whatever, that’s up to ya’ll. I’m Jessie by the way, nice ta meet ya!”

Michael smirked, “Hehe~, well, it doesn’t really make much of a difference to me either way… My names Mike and I’m just waiting for this annoying storm to blow over. Is this bar open all night?”

She giggled, nodding and wondering “Mike, since her gonna be stayin here fer the night, why dun cha rent a room? Even if ya ain’t got no bullets or food ta trade…”

However, before she could even finish her ‘proposition’, he complained “Do I look like a fucking prostitute? Goddamn, I know I’m sexy, but that doesn’t mean I’m a whore!”

Jessie frowned, grumbling “Ya dun hafta be such a horse’s ass, ya know?! I was jus gonna suggest that ya could stay in my place! Ain’t ya at least gonna order a drink, or somethin?”

He sighed, muttering “Geeze, I was just joking, but no thanks, I’m kinda-sorta married. As for the drink though… I am really fucking thirsty, but I’m alcohol-intolerant. Hmmm, have any iced-tea or fruit-juice?”

23 thoughts on “Chapter 48: An Immortal Walks Into Another Bar

  1. Thanks for the chapter and on another note, I have no idea what’s happening in the conversation above mine, but I’m interested to know what all those stories are and what they are all about.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Michael is such a “My-Pace” sorta dude… And those people will never be able to “Honey-trap” the walking embodiment of lust that is Michael Cinagra! He has 6 Wives of literally all shapes and sizes… And fetishes. Going against the near Immortal man that can kill everyone in like a 1-mile radius just by equipping a mask… Bad idea? I think so!

    I have to know though, has he done it with Inari yet? I mean physically not psychically like their massive mind orgy at the end of Book 1! I remember something about a “Jail-bait” barrier when she turned from a child to adolescent…

    Thanks for the chapter~ Also, was this place in the middle of a fucking tornado? I don’t know if I skimmed over that part or just straight up misread, but from what I read, he’s in the eye of the storm for a massive tornado… Or it just ended and launched his sword really deep underground!

    Liked by 1 person

      • Okay, no idea how I got that confused, maybe I didn’t pay much attention to the first 2-3 paragraphs and literally missed where it said the time… But seriously, think about it! A cesspool of a Bar in that is in the “Human Supremacist” faction and hunting Psychics is operating in the middle of a massive fucking tornado! How’s that for insanity!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Swallowed Star? Oh fuck me, another one to follow?! Pretty sure CSG has my slowly seething in rage at the 1 chapter a day with the current Arc just… Just… I want a massacre! I might need to go catch up with my 400 or so chapters behind on MGA for my daily dose of slaughter…

        Liked by 1 person

      • I think my entire goal of reading it was to see how much literal hell he can raise… Which is apparently a metric shit-ton. I stopped since I read all the chapter titles before I read the chapters (for an arc) and was like… “These titles… Sound somewhat tragic… NO CHANCES!”

        I should really go start reading ISSTH again since I read all the way up to the end of the translation (At the time) which was like 50-60 chapters, now it has like 500… The Mirror that causes death by anus, still the most hilarious thing I ever read in a CN WN.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Roflmao, ISSTH doesn’t really start to get good until chapter 80-100 ish. The past 300 chapters have been really awesome though. You should read it if you like massacres so much 😛

        Liked by 1 person

      • I think we all know that I love chaos, but only in the most ridiculous of circumstances. ISSTH had me with the anus mirror, then it got a Wooden sword that cut through everything like butter… I was like “This might be the most hilarious thing I have read in a long time…” The hardest part of following Wuxia/Xianxia (They’re fairly similar in this regard) is keeping track of , not the characters, but the damn ranking systems for power/items! Every single one has a different one! After like the 10th one… You kinda start losing track…

        Liked by 1 person

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