Heaven Has No Limit Chapter 1 - The One Piece Is Real

Noah had always known he was the GOAT.

“I'm da goat.”

“Saint, you aren’t a goat, you’re a Dragon, a—”

“It mweans greates’ ov all time, idjit! Some’wun shoot this fwool!”

“As you command, Saint Noah.”

“W-wait, Saint—”

A gunshot rang out in the study room.

“You killed ‘im?”

“That… was what you commanded, Saint?”

“I said shoot ‘im, not kill ‘im!”

“Ah…”

Saint Jaygarcia Noah sat within a study room, looking down at the body of his dead tutor with a bullet in his head. It was the fifteenth tutor thus far. They died like flies, these tutors, if not by the hand of his guards, then by the hands of the other Celestial Dragons. Some would be shot because they would unwittingly offend a Celestial Dragon, or because they were too old, or because they were too ugly, or because they were too thin, or not thin enough. Some would die because a Celestial Dragon was hungry, and some would die because they were full. Some would die because the weather was bad, and others would die because the weather was nice.

A lot of these tutors were the ones who instilled the ‘History’ of his ‘Privilege’ and his ‘Right’ to trample upon the entire world. Shifty-eyed old men, who believed in his ‘Divinity’ and said he could do whatever he wished, as a ‘God.’

The body was dragged out, and chained slaves rushed in to hurriedly clean the blood. This was a common occurrence. 

In Heaven, Death walked hand-in-hand with all those who lacked divinity.

Sucks to suck, old geezer.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen dead bodies or even seen people die. The first time was when he was four. His grandmother shot a hooker who'd given him a lollipop twice in the head, and spat on her body. Death hadn’t phased him then, that cold winter he’d spent waiting for the cops on the stairway. As his eyes watered and his fingers grew numb, as the cops arrived, as they took one look at the hooker's skin color, bought his granny's words about 'stopping a home invader,' and left with the body, it hadn't phased him. As he was patted on the back, given a cig and a shot of whiskey and choked on the smoke, Granny Noah told him he was a man now and told him the world belonged to men like him. Great men were willing to go the extra mile, to never take no for an answer, to never ask for permission, to never seek forgiveness, to never admit wrongdoing, and great men never stop chasing greatness.

Noah had always sought greatness, and now he had undisputed proof of it.

Even death had decided, one way or another, to dab him up, and say, “Nah, fam, I gotchu” and allow him to reincarnate upon ending his life subscription. Fuck Jobless Reincarnation, fuck Reincarnated As A Slime, fuck Re: Zero, rather than being Diddy Tensei, a wageslave or virgin nobody before he got here, he was the GOAT. 

Millions of followers, millions of subscribers, millions of haters, millions of fans.

Millions of clicks, millions of woos, millions of bitches and millions of views.

E-Girls riding his dick for a two-second shoutout, Raid Shadow Legends on their knees like a slut. SquareSpace, NordVPN, and Manscaped lined up like losers waiting for Bonnie Blue’s sloppy cunt. Blue Tick on Twitter before Elon sold out, one tweet making numbers like Hermione’s eighteenth birthday-count.

He was an artiste, a maverick, a modern-day miracle-worker, turning not water to wine, but rage to time and time to dime.

He was the GOAT.

“Bwing in tha next twutor!”

Noah sat on a chair made of expensive, extravagant leather and stretched his legs out over a soft legrest. Some would use slaves, but Noah saw them as idiots. A human spine wasn’t soft and as comfortable as a leg rest.

This is the One Piece world...

Noah grinned.

THE ONE PIEEEEEEECCCCEEEE!

THE ONE PIECE IS REAAAAAAAL!

AND NOAH'S FUCKING IN IT!

Being reborn into the One Piece world and awakening with Conqueror’s Haki proved he was the GOAT. It proved even the universe, this universe acknowledged he had the makings of the GOAT. Conqueror’s Haki was something only those who had the quality of a King could ever have. If he was some nobody before he got here, Noah was certain he’d never have awoken it the moment he was born. His birth had come with a double-whopper of patricide and matricide, but Noah saw it as more proof of anything else that he was the utter GOAT.

Noah couldn’t have guardrails. In Oda’s words, “Mothers are the opposite of adventure.” Having dead parents was a rite of passage for any true GOAT.

“He’s here, Saint Noah, as per your instruction, one of the best cartographers and navigators we could find.”

Another old geezer entered the study room, dropping flat on his knees as soon as he did so, trembling, not even daring to raise his head to look at him.

“Old Man!”

“Y-y-yes, Saint?”

“Teachin’ time.”

“Y-yes, Saint.”

The old man got to work, frightfully, dreadfully, explaining about the weather patterns, reading them, understanding them, the Sea Kings, the Calm Belt, and more. Most of it, Noah already knew, but Noah wasn’t taking any chances. Some of the things Noah didn’t know. They would come in handy in the future, when he set sail.

He was two years old now, and Noah could confidently say these two years sucked ass. That was to be expected, because even though he was the GOAT, for the most part of it, he had been a baby. Not even LeBron could make a three-pointer while he was in the crib, and not even Jackson could moonwalk before he could crawl. Baby steps, literally, were required to elevate himself from budding-GOAT to true-GOAT. Two years was what he needed to figure out walking well enough, but the talking part sucked because of his goo-goo ga-ga teeth that made everything he said come out like he was auto-translating from CocoMelon.

“First, the hull,” he said. “This is the belly of every seafaring vessel. Her seams should be tarred and her planks tight…”

“It is paramount for any sailor to know the ropes, Saint. Halyards to raise sails, sheets to turn them, anchors to bite the sea-bed. Tying knots well is paramount. A sailor with loose knots is one doomed for disaster…”

“Next, the mast and sails. The wind is your true guide, Saint. You must learn to read it, feel it on your cheek, and turn the sail to catch it. With the wind at your back, you sail unhindered. With it against you, you must zig and zag…”

“Then, of critical importance is the Log Pose, which records the—”

“Mawgnetic fweilds of Eyelwands?”

“Y-yes…” the old man said, surprised. “More strictly, it keeps note of the magnetic field between an island and the next-closest island, and leads you towards it. Due to the erratic weather and unpredictable nature of the Grand Line, sailing without one is impossible. As long as one follows the needle, they can sail from island to island, until they reach…”

The man paused.

“The end.”

Top of the class information about sailing on the Grand Line, and sailing in general, all of which Noah crammed into his head, and all of which could be given to him, and more, just by asking. At two years old, there were those starting to see him as the GOAT he was, calling him a ‘genius’, a ‘prodigy.’

Especially due to his Haki.

He had caused a storm when he was born due to unleashing Conqueror’s Haki in his utter shock of experiencing coming out of a woman for the first time, instead of going inside of her. He thought that the fact he’d killed people being born should have caused problems, but he’d heard there’d been something else important going on that day, which was why the matter was suppressed. He’d also put one-and-two together and quickly figured out that almost everyone aware of the incident, the specific details of his birth, had mysteriously ‘disappeared.’

During these two years, before he figured out walking and talking, there was fuck-ass to do as he lay down on a bed but learn how to better control his Conqueror’s Haki. Doing that was harder than he thought. Way harder. So Noah decided to start training to see if he could use the other power, Observation Haki. Closing his eyes, he’d practice listening to the sound of footprints, and got good at being able to tell which one of the servants, maids, and/or slaves was coming to clean him or feed him.

“Bwing in tha next twutor!”

Another old man was brought forward, and Noah frowned, but Noah wasn’t surprised. There weren’t any competent, attractive young women in One Piece that could serve as tutors or teachers. 

Noah was very, very familiar with One Piece. He’d done a near-suicidal challenge on it in the days before it clicked that ragebait was the way to go viral. His ‘Eating Nothing Until I Watch All Of One Piece’ stream hadn’t even dented over ten thousand views, despite the harm it had done to his body. He’d lost twenty-five kilograms on that stunt alone. He’d started from the very first episode of Pirate Mr. Fantastic emerging from a barrel on Alvida’s ship, caught up to the latest episodes, got curious, started reading the manga, only to drop it like a steaming turd after seeing the rubber-man revive from the dead, pull a goofy-ass Bugs Bunny powerset and become Luffy the White, aka, Nika the Asspull, aka Pirate Jesus.

On occasion, he’d hop back to the anime to get on the hype train, and leave behind spicy hot tweets like ‘Luffy’s just a lamer Naruto,’  ‘One Piece? More like Nepo Piece,’ ‘Ace died for nothing,’ and ‘Sabo is just a Tumblr OC.’ The spicier the takes, the better the ragebait, the quicker he got trending.

It took the Nepo Hats two years to go from never hearing of Haki to being good enough to storm the New World with it. I’ve got them beat. 

It took the Monster Trio, aka the Big Three, aka The Only Straw Hats That Matter After the Timeskip, just about two years to go from no knowledge of Haki to master users of Haki. They also didn’t or weren’t practicing it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a year, because they weren’t babies that could do fuck else with their time. Even the ‘Brave Coward of the Sea’ managed to figure out Observation Haki in roughly two or so years.

Noah would be practicing since he was literally born.  By the time he hit his pre-teen years, he was confident of being able to head out to East Blue blindfolded and run circles around every single pirate there.

“When did thwa Pwirate Kwing get kwilled, old man?”

“The… Pirate King?”

The new tutor, who was here to teach him Geography and Current Affairs, paused.

“He was executed two years ago, Saint.”

“Now, you mention it, Saint…” one of his guards spoke up. “The Pirate King, that despicable man, was executed on the same day you were born, Saint Noah.”

Noah blinked.

Noah grinned.

“I'm da goat.”

=====)+(=====

There were twenty years left before the start of the Canon Timeline.

Noah paced about in his bedroom, grabbed a large leather book, an ink quill, and began writing.

How to Become the Greatest of All Time: Pirate World Edition

Noah wanted fame. Noah had never stopped wanting fame. Being born as a Celestial Dragon meant he could have that if he wanted, but he didn’t want fame given to him; he wanted to take it. He wanted his deeds and actions to give him that fame. He wanted that same reaction he got when he arrived as a guest entry at the Royal Rumble, and the audience exploded with cheers and boos.

Noah lived for that. He lived for it. Relished in it.

Thus, Noah had a plan. An idea. The idea had come to him the moment he realized that he was born on the same day that Gol D. Roger died.

Gol D. Roger’s death marked the start of the Age of Piracy.

But Noah’s birth marked the start of the Age of Noah.

Noah was going to end the Great Pirate Era.

Single. Handedly.

The easiest and fastest way to do so was as a Bounty Hunter. A Pirate Hunter.

Not the fraud that Zoro was, but he would be THE Pirate Hunter.

The Predator of Parrot Petters. The Pillager of Peg Legs. The Boogeyman of Bootleggers.

The Baba Yaga of the Yar-Har-Har.

The world was filled with big fat sheep with millions of bounties, but Noah couldn’t remember a time a bounty was turned in that didn’t belong to small fry. He was going to change that.

Many, many Pirates would be scared shitless of the idea of hurting a Celestial Dragon to fight back. It was like a North Korean peasant being bullied by the son of Kim Jong Un. What were you gonna do? Fight the son of the Supreme Leader? Good fucking luck. Noah could clean shop. Some Pirates would surrender the moment he showed up, because nobody wanted a fucking Buster Call on their asses. No one wanted an Admiral to swing an axe against their door and pop their heads in for a ‘Here’s Johnny!’

Being a Celestial Dragon was walking around with a Nuclear Deterrent.

The Marines would consider it as just another eclectic whim of yet another Celestial Dragon being bored and doing whatever they wanted, but when he started bringing in the big names, Sengoku would sit up and lock in.

Especially because he was going to be gunning for the top. 

The Big Fish.

Silvers Rayleigh.

Monkey D. Dragon.

The Emperors.

Big Mom. Whitebeard. Kaido. Shanks.

Big Mom and Whole Cake Island would be first on his hit list once he started gunning for the Emperors. Lots of her daughters would look great as e-girls. He would turn them into filthy goonettes doing ahegao faces for his satisfaction, or he would die trying. 

Then, there were some people who needed to be cucked. Sanji was one. Usopp was another. Zoro was the third. That girl that fell down the stairs, Noah would make sure she fell back up it and landed on his dick.

All Pirates would be his Haters, and all Marines would be his Fans.

Noah licked his lips.

As for the Nepo Hats…

Monkey D. Luffy was not yet born. Nor was the vast majority of his crew, with the exception of Robin, Franky, and Brook.

The Ohara Incident, if he remembered correctly, would be ongoing soon, if it wasn’t already. That was in West Blue. There wasn’t much he could do to interfere in it as he was. Bar sailing to Ohara himself… but Noah wouldn’t do that because Noah’s mantra was to prepare before performing.

Preparation. He needed to Batman this shit. There were a ton of people who hated Celestial Dragons. If he didn’t have any power, if he wasn’t strong enough, all it would take would be a group taking down his guards to get to him. As it was, he could still be killed by a bullet fired from a flintlock. Conqueror’s Haki was powerful, but it wasn’t omnipotent. He needed to properly master Observation Haki for defense and see if he could also use Armament Haki.

So he wouldn’t set sail. Nico Robin would be on the run for years to come. There was plenty of time to add her to the e-girl collection.

Luffy, aka Pirate Jesus, could not be allowed to exist or grow. Luffy was the ‘freedom guy,’ but Noah didn’t really care for freedom as a Celestial Dragon. As privileged as he was, why would he ever let that privilege go?

Luffy had to die.

Killing Luffy would put him high on Dragon’s Shitlist as well as Garp’s Shitlist, which was all the more reason he needed to be strong before he started making waves. Noah couldn’t say with absolute 100% certainty that Garp wouldn’t betray the Marines and try to kill him if he found out he killed Luffy.

Power.

In the end, it all came down to the paywall that was power.

He needed power.

Pure, raw, unbridled power.

He needed to be strong. This was Pirate Fantasy Shonen Land, where giants existed, old men could swim across oceans, cyborgs and clones ran about like Terminators, people could lift hundreds of thousands of times their own body weight, and willpower was a tangible force.

Devil Fruit?

Noah considered it for a moment before dismissing it.

The upsides of a Devil Fruit almost always completely overshadowed the downsides of never being able to swim again, but Noah said fuck that. He didn’t want some bum ass historian saying his strength was due to the power of his Devil Fruit; he didn’t want haters saying that he wouldn’t have reached the heights he did without being carried by a dick-vein apple. He didn’t want some no-name fruit to share the spotlight with him and become the ‘Greatest Fruit of All Time’ simply because he ate it.

Noah didn’t care that most people who ate Devil Fruits found unique utilizations for them, or figured out ways to turn trash fruits into gems. In his eyes, that was still a borrowed power-up, like Mario grabbing a Super Star. If all it took was someone smacking a pair of seastone cuffs, or locking him in a seastone room, or a friendly sea-style waterboarding session to render that power useless, it was trash in his eyes.

Noah was the GOAT. Noah wanted to be the GOAT.

That meant no devil fruits. No bullshit Paramecia, Logia, or Mythical Zoan.

It was going to be all him.

He would be great with his sweat, his blood, but not his tears, because Noah never cried.

He had long forgotten how.

“Gwards!”

“Yes, Saint?”

Noah handed them a list.

“Get me eweytwing on tha’ lwist!”

Noah smacked his hands and cackled.

He was going to be the GOAT.

And absolutely nothing would stop him.

=====)+(=====

A most unusual child.

Saint Jaygarcia Saturn read through the report he had been given on his great-grandson, as he stroked his beard. He had long divested himself of things like fatherly affection, but, as one of his bloodline, a descendant, one who had awoken the Haki of the Supreme King, the Haki of Conquerors, upon his birth, Saint Saturn had decided to keep track of the child, if only because it was an unprecedented event.

The matter had been swept swiftly under the rug by his rapid intervention; however, the God’s Knights had still queried the deaths. Figarland suspected something, as did a few of his fellow elders. His actions were not entirely without consequence. Thus, Saint Saturn was waiting, and he was watching the child, the boy, to see what about him was so special that merely being born had given him the qualifications of one said to become a King.

Perhaps… if he proves to be promising…

If he did...

I’ll give it a few more years.

Saint Saturn would wait, and watch.

Yes.

He would follow the boy’s development with great interest.