The swamp—basked in the midday sun's oppressive heat, buzzed relentlessly with the song of cicadas clinging to sun-drenched cypress trees. A song that seemed as if it were some sort of chant that thickened the air. The scent of dirt, both wet and dry, wafted through the humid atmosphere, adding an earthy note to the swamp's symphony.
In the midst of this serenade, Noir Bordeaux stirred from his slumber. As he sat upright, the dusty wooden floorboards of the boat met the bandages on his feet. The boards whispered with each shift in pressure as if they'd give way at any moment.
Once a lively tourist attraction, the steamboat now sat in quiet nostalgia. Its timeworn walls creaked, and its faded wallpaper from livelier days barely clung to them as if a draft from an open door were all they needed to peel off. The musty scent inside was a blend of aged wood and dampness that hung in the air like a testament to the boat's journey through time. In the confined space, Noir was surrounded by echoes of a vibrant past, now hushed.
Beside him on the floor lay a small cloth sack, swollen and round, appearing to contain something in all its completeness. With its contents jostling within, he retrieved the sack, emptying it into his palm. However, all that spilled out were a few crumb-sized alligator scales as the sack collapsed, its former plumpness vanishing like a sigh.
Clasping his hands together above his mouth, Noir sat in deep contemplation. The once lively eyes of a little boy now appeared hollow, void of their former spirit. Their bright honey-brown tone had paled over the years due to the trials and tribulations weathered within the isolation of the swamp. His soft hands had grown rugged, and his fingernails had become chipped and black, filled with dirt. Unkempt brown hair which also had paled, framed his face, falling untamed around his features, adding to the rugged, wild aura that permeated his appearance.
UNDER THE SCORCHING GAZE OF THE SUMMER SUN, NOIR PERCHED IN WHAT resembled a patchy dirt yard atop a weathered tree stump, mere steps away from the battered steamboat that served as his refuge. His posture mirrored the one from his bed, a haunting stillness amidst the swamp's ambiance. His eyes were fixated on the nearby water, a subtle yet dangerous region. Despite being at his doorstep, it was simply one of many veins that connected to a much larger river. Stretching 50 miles in one direction and 87 in the other, the Mille Dan was the only river in the kingdom's territory.
The heat was high as always in Meteor Kingdom, even more so in the swamp, but Noir didn't mind, even while donning a cloak he'd found amongst the sparse luggage aboard the boat.
Emerging from across the water's murky shallows, three sets of alligator eyes glinted in the sun's reflection, their primal stare piercing through the humidity. The closest of the reptilian observers locked eyes with Noir, initiating an unspoken challenge—a contest of unwavering gazes that lasted until the alligator conceded with a leisurely blink. The air seemed to thicken as nature observed the silent exchange—a confrontation between two elements of the vast, untamed wilderness.
With that, Noir rose and approached a solitary tree nestled in a grassy area at the edge of his yard. Embedded deeply within its bark lay an axe whose wooden handle bore the marks of time. Its face was painted jet black with a silver blade spotted in rust. Retrieving the axe, Noir placed it within the aperture between his belt and pants. It served as a companion to his intent.
The mud squashed beneath his feet as he made his way to the water. Each step sank into the soft earth, leaving imprints that quickly filled with murky liquid. The sounds shifting from wet squelches to light splashes marked Noir's progression toward the seemingly motionless river. As the water level gradually rose, his movements transitioned into swishes, disturbing the stillness of the shallows. The algae-scattered water submerged him just below his knees.
Having ventured into the middle of the river, the set of eyes from earlier met Noir's once again, just feet apart from one another. Despite the thick, humid air brimming with tension, he remained composed. His axe's silver blade dully glistened in the sunlight, an accessory bolstering his confidence against the reptilian observers. Being in a place where the enemy held the advantage did little to rattle his demeanor. He felt nothing—not fear, nor caution, as he stood there staring. His opponent was backed by two sets of eyes, which turned to four, six, and then eight as they surfaced in the water surrounding him. Steadily, they enclosed him in a ring, prepared for their next meal.
No stranger to battling his food, Noir stood there, maintaining eye contact, completely aware of the increased numbers. It was no news to him that, where one gator prowled, a silent congregation lay in wait. Standing there, he gripped his axe as he let time slip by, waiting for the first move to be made.
Without warning, a scaly predator struck from behind, its jaws gaping for Noir's head. Swiftly and preemptively, Noir reacted. Drawing a deep breath, he pulled the axe from his hip, positioning his hand just below its head. Squatting low, he allowed the alligator to close in directly above him. Agilely, he wielded the axe, looping its handle over the gator's neck and securing the other end in his hand. With a mighty heave, Noir brought the weapon down, channeling every ounce of strength he had to snap the reptile's spine against the handle, rendering it motionless. Using the momentum, he tossed the lifeless creature over his shoulder.
Despite his unwavering resolve, the other alligators surged forth, their ridged backs propelling through the water at an alarming pace. As they leaped from the murky depths, Noir executed swift swings of his dull ax, aiming to evade and cut through their scaly hides. Yet, no matter how many he cut down, their relentless attacks showed no signs of abating.
Seizing an opportune moment, one alligator caught him off guard, clamping its jaws around his leg and wrenching him beneath the water's surface. As it began to roll and spin Noir, the other creatures joined in, tearing and gnashing at him in a ferocious frenzy. Struggling for breath, Noir fought desperately to free himself from the onslaught.
But despite the splashing, hissing, and bellowing, he heard a faint sound—the muffled sounds of coughing and gasping for air. As his last breath of air thrust itself from his body, sending bubbles to the surface, he let out a bellow of his own—not one of anger but of annoyance. Something felt familiar about the sound, but the reason why was lost to him. All he knew was that it made him uncomfortable.
Mustering all his strength, he tried to break free from the alligator holding his leg hostage, but there were just too many attacking him at once. As his oxygen ran out, his vision darkened, his fist clenched tight in an attempt to hold out. His body was lost beneath the red water as the frenzy of alligators climbed over one another to get a bite out of his corpse.
As the daylight dimmed into the late evening, Noir's naked body slowly bobbed back and forth as it teased the land before eventually washing ashore. The alligators had ripped his clothes to shreds and left him with nothing but the necklace around his neck. His skin had begun to pale, and his body was still. Not even the subtle expansion of his torso could be seen from oxygen circulating through his lungs.
But, after a few moments, a light began to glow beneath him. His body twitched twice before he began aggressively coughing up water and filling his lungs with air. As if the event hadn't even happened, he stood to his feet, and began walking. He held a dead alligator in one of his hands, and his facial expression remained just as blank as when he entered the water. This wasn't Noir's first time dying, and he figured it wouldn't be his last.
That evening, he descaled the alligator and refilled his pouch with the gathered pieces. With that done, he sank his teeth into the raw alligator meat, savoring the day's hard-earned catch. If he had access to refrigeration, this bounty would have fed him for a long time. However, in the unforgiving swamp of Mille Dan, such luxuries were unheard of. It was a land untouched by human convenience, where nature reigned supreme. By morning, the remains of the slain alligators would vanish, consumed or carried away by other predators eager to satiate their own hunger.