You Close the Door, I Taunt, He Shoots Lightning

Western Marsh State, "Gotham City."

A fairly prosperous city. Its original name was naturally not "Gotham"; it had earned this nickname because public safety in this thriving capital was rather poor.

And despite its poor security, it remained remarkably prosperous.

That was very Gotham.

This was one of the North American cities where Western God and Demon Walkers gathered. Roughly twenty percent of North America's Western God and Demon Walkers had settled and lived here.

God and Demon Walkers from other places also frequently entered the city.

Within this city, they had all sorts of channels through which they could find their peers and gain a sense of belonging.

To a certain extent, God and Demon Walkers were protected in this city.

The city's true rulers were also a group of powerful God and Demon Walkers.

They had established an order within the city that belonged to God and Demon Walkers.

Monarch Bar.

A rather domineering name. It stood near the edge of the city, looking somewhat rundown, like the sort of place where truckers in a road movie stopped to rest—and get into trouble.

Yet this shabby bar operated on a membership system.

Two hulking men stood guard at the entrance. Anyone who was not a Monarch Bar member was forbidden from entering.

Quite a few burly drivers—or drivers who thought themselves burly enough—had assumed they could get in, only to have their legs broken, or even their spines snapped before being thrown out.

By now, no foolish outsiders tried to enter Monarch Bar anymore.

But that did nothing to diminish its liveliness.

Many vehicles were parked outside, all kinds of them, from trucks to heavy motorcycles.

Past the bar's entrance were two paths, leading left and right respectively. One followed the standard nightclub format, while the other led