Heaven Has No Limit Chapter 8 - Same Day Shipping

Romance Fucking Dawns, people!

The dock, a private dock, creaked beneath him, crying like a bitch that’d been backhanded too many times or not enough. The smell of salt hit Noah’s nostrils so sharply it was like he’d entered a comment section about height versus weight. He stopped at the gangway, running his hand on the rail, feeling the workmanship that could only ever be attributed to well-seasoned slave labor.

Taking a deep, full breath, feeling the morning sun bathe his form, Noah started to suspect just how much he was going to fucking hate sailing. 

There were still the usual things one found at docks, like seagulls crying overhead, the endless echo of ropes slapping against masts, and the sound of whips being cracked as backs, along with cries of “Faster!”

The ship that had been prepped for him was clearly a galleon, one of those Marine battleships that had been completely refitted to fly the colors and banners of the World Government rather than the Marines. Noah took two steps off the dock, his hands in his pockets, jumping once, into the air, then jumping again, using Geppo until he landed directly atop the hull. 

There was a collective hush and murmur from the crew of the ship as he arrived, as one hapless deck-swabber backpedaled away in fright, both at seeing Noah appear, and at taking a glance at Noah’s clothes and immediately understanding that the person in front of him was a Celestial Dragon.

The crew was, to Noah’s surprise, run-of-the-mill Marine fodder. None of which he recognized, and none of which he would bother remembering. The One Piece World was large as fuck after all, and it wasn’t like he was going to be running into named characters every single second. Hell, it was probably the opposite; the vast majority of people he’d be seeing would be no-name side characters and mooks.

Noah walked about the hull of the ship, examining it, before clicking his tongue.

He had been on fishing boats, and he’d been on sailing boats, he’d been on yachts, and he’d been on cruise ships. The modern conveniences provided by even the shittiest cruise ship were a hundred times better than the crap he was seeing set in front of him.

Gonna have to invest in getting Judge to make a modern frigate or destroyer instead of this Pirates of the Caribbean bullshit…

Noah clicked his tongue.

The fuck am I trying to be, Edward Kenway?

“Saint Noah,” Guernika arrived beside him, bowing on one knee. “Everything is ready for your departure. A private chamber is available, provided with entertainment. We are stocked with enough supplies for at least a six-month voyage.”

“We won’t be taking that long.” God, I hope fucking not. “The course?”

“It has been set, Saint. I estimate it should take us about three weeks from here, if the wind is favorable, Saint.”

…Huh.

“Is something wrong, Saint?”

“Three weeks? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Saint.”

That can’t be right… How the hell did the Nepo Hats sail anywhere if going from Mariejois to an Island in the New World takes three weeks?

“Are there no faster ships?” Noah asked, tapping his foot impatiently. “What of submarines? Do we have submarines?”

“Not… to my knowledge, Saint.”

Note gotta get Judge to build me a workable submarine… if Law can have one, I don’t see why I shouldn’t…

One benefit of being in this world is that even if it does spontaneously implode on me, I can still survive, unlike those OceanGate fucks…

Noah clicked his tongue.

Fuck… travel time is going to be a bitch. Can’t fast travel and can’t just skip it like a cutscene…

“The entertainment provided—”

“Selected slaves are on board, Saint Noah. Dressed, as per your instruction, like blackjack dealers and… hookers.”

Noah grinned.

On second thought…

Noah was going to fucking love sailing.

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

Long live Pirate Shonen Fantasy Land!

Opulence was the fetor of the wealthy, and right now, Noah reeked. In front of him was a large jacuzzi-sized pool filled with stacks of cash, berries, and his maidservants-cum-slaves. The women were dressed in heels and nothing else and swung on golden poles like Tarzan on speed.

The women couldn’t dance properly for shit, and drunk as they were, their performances were made worse, or, maybe better, by the rocking and swaying of the ship as it sailed across the ocean. 

Noah sat in a comfortable, expensive leather chair, almost sinking into it as if it were a cloud. The highlight of his comfort, of course, was the one, young, black-haired maid holding a wine bottle with a blushing face, and sitting on his lap. A young-haired maid whose features made her more beautiful than ten dozen of all the other women in the room put together.

“Uwu… Do y-you want to drink some wine, M-Master Noah?”

Boa Hancock, despite not having completed her Maid Training, was not someone Noah was going to leave behind when voyaging the seas. The primary reason was because he could not be certain the Love Sickness did not wear off with distance. The secondary reason was because she was Boa Hancock.

Noah’s gaze locked onto her body, which could only be said to be ‘goonbait material.’ Her future self would be known as the most beautiful woman in the world, and though they were still a ways off from that time, Noah could fucking see it. 

Thank you, Oda, for the Seraphim retcon…

The Seraphim, which was made by Noah’s least favorite expy of a real historical figure, Vegapunk, had confirmed that the clones were genetically younger versions of the Shichibukai. S-Snake was what Hancock would look like at that age, thus changing what she'd looked like in flashbacks, and thus making it so she’d only grow further and further into what she’d look like at the series start.

It meant she was a verified blue-checkmark baddie from conception to termination.

Stealing the DNA of the world's baddest baddie to clone her has got to be the only based thing you've ever done, Loser-Punk.

Noah had no clue how they did it, but the idea that someone could steal DNA and pop out clones left, right and center was some Jordan Peele, Get Out, shit. Sure, it was fine if he was the one doing it, as that 'project' of his used a few stolen DNA samples, but he didn't want anyone else doing it. It was why he was going to get Judge to make a way to copyright and watermark the 'Lineage Factor' to ensure it couldn't be cloned.

Cause if the World Government could clone the fucking Shichibukai without any of them ever knowing, pulling a fast one on the likes of Doflamingo and Mihawk, then they could clone anyone without them ever knowing.

All Celestial Dragons had identification chips, and Noah had his, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He didn't want an 'S-Goat' running up and about as a Government Stooge.

On to better things…

Noah's gaze ran up and down Hancock's body as if it were a 360-degree X-Ray device. Letting it linger on her waist, it was just the perfect hour-glass shape for a set of hands to hold on to. Her face, already, bore the beauty of the kind of person that would have a million followers on Insta, and such that posting a thirst trap would leave fools licking their screen and adding her pictures to their hidden spank bank.

Hancock opened a bottle of grape wine, pouring an entire mouthful into her lips, and holding it. She swiveled it around before slowly tilting his mouth, opening it, and pouring wine down his throat with a sloppy, ill-practiced kiss. Excess dribbled down the side of his lips, but like a mother bird feeding its chick, Noah greedily drank it all, tasting Hancock-flavored wine with gusto. Hancock pulled away. Her face was happy-meal-red and Starbucks-coffee-hot. Her eyes were swirls and spirals, her toes were curling, and she grabbed the wine and hugged it tightly to her chest.

“W-was that… uwu… good… M-Master Noah?”

“Keep practicing,” Noah pointed to the side of his lips. “Some wine was spilled.”

She reached for a cloth, but Noah stopped her, grabbing her hand.

“You don’t use a cloth, Hancock.”

Hancock leaned in, her tongue licking the side of his cheek, down all the way to his chin.

Noah grinned.

A Man has eyes but cannot fucking see! His name? Monkey D. Luffy!

You were blind, my man! Blind as a fokin' bat!

Noah was the kind of person who always pushed borders and pushed boundaries. ‘No’ was not a word he liked hearing, or liked having in his dictionary. Yet, even he vastly underestimated just what he could get Hancock to do due to her Love Sickness. He’d underestimated just how much it put one’s brain into sleep mode, making them believe that the target of their affection could do no wrong.

Hancock continued to lick his chin, his face, and Noah quickly put together the fact that he’d been worried over fucking nothing. This? This was nothing. Love Sickness made her go to war for the sake of a man she’d just met.

That was after she was a traumatized, man-hating, puppy-kicking, seal-punting, ex-slave-turned-empress. An ex-slave who, given the existence of Ginny, meant that the Celestial Dragons had dicked her down as much as they could and given her no choice in the matter, all of which should have provided more reason to be guarded against men.

That sort of person, with that sort of history, switched on an absolute dime because love was a hurricane. Haki wasn’t the true bullshit power; it was Love Sickness. Love Sickness conquers all. It was enough to get someone to help break into the most highly guarded prison in the world and jump into a war with the strongest people in the world—

For a man she’d known for less than a week.

In contrast, this Hancock hadn’t been traumatized, tortured, or dicked down by god knows how many Celestial Dragon fucks. She hadn’t been tortured. She had known him for longer than she’d known Luffy before being willing to sacrifice her life for him.

In contrast, Noah’s requests were tame. She’d willingly agreed to become his slave, a ‘noble sacrifice’ for the sake of her sisters, and she knew what being a slave entailed. Getting her to speak in a way he wanted, to wear a maid outfit, to sit on his lap, and feed him wine with her lips? 

That was what a good slave did.

And in the end, none of that even came close to risking her life in a war.

Hancock finished ‘cleaning’ the spilled wine with her tongue, and Noah grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, pushing her over his lap.

Pirate Jesus should be born around this time…

Noah gently rubbed her thigh.

Cucking a man before he’s even born is crazy work.

His hand wandered up her short maid's skirt and squeezed her ass.

Hancock flushed. “M-Master! N-not in f-front of others… uwu~!”

Sucks to fucking suck, Monkey-Boy!

“More wine! Bring all the wine!”

Slaves brought more wine in large casks and champagne bottles, and Noah got Hancock to ‘feed’ him some more wine with her mouth. She popped champagne on the dancing hookers, and on blackjack-dealing maids, and on wads of cash that men would probably kill for and die for. Throughout the entirety of the day, he drank, watched the dancing and drunken swaying of everything and everyone. His metabolism was supercharged from the training he did, and if he wanted, he could burn through the liquor and sober up near instantly, but Noah didn’t. It was going to be a long journey, and there was no way he was going to get through it if he wasn’t hammered. 

When the good wine ran out, the cheap stuff was brought forth, and what it lacked in fanciness it made up for in pure, overwhelming alcohol content. There was no shortage of liquor available on the ship. It wasn’t even stocked specially for him, but that was just how these fuckers rolled on the sea. Wine, rum, grog, gin, and more fucking wine. Sailors replaced water with alcohol because it was easier to store, wouldn’t go bad, and would kill off the nasty shit that would accumulate from it being stored as one sailed from place to place over long distances. 

Everyone got their share of liquor, and bars were the primary hydration station. Young, old, infants, it didn’t matter. Take the liquor raw and hard, or pussy out and take it cut with water that has a high chance of giving you dysentery and typhoid.

Alcohol was easier to store on long voyages than water. Healthier to drink than water. So they drank, and they drank, and they kept on drinking.

When in Rome!

And to celebrate the popping of the seaman cherry—

Noah drank like a sailor. 

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

By nightfall, the drinking, gambling, and dancing had come to an end.

Untrained as they all were, they lacked the stamina to keep up with Noah. Hancock had passed out completely on the bed, hiccuping constantly, and muttering ‘uwu~’ under her breath. She’d not been able to hold her liquor as much as he could, and given the endless amount of ‘bird-feeding’ she’d been doing, drowning him with a liquor-style reverse-CPR, the fact she didn’t have alcohol poisoning was all the proof he needed to see how she was built different.

Kuja genes ain't no joke…

Kuja weren’t normal human women, because all Kuja women only gave birth to girls. There were probably some more hidden goodies in the Kuja gene pool if one was willing to dig deep. Noah made a mental note to invest in Kuja stocks when he could.

Covering Hancock under the sheets, Noah swayed out of the room with a bottle of wine still in his hand, one of the last of the good ones, before he made his way onto the ship’s hull.

None of the crew was out and about at night, save for the idiot who was supposed to be on lookout in the crow’s nest, snoozing on duty. 

Man… hits different… the sea hits different.

The sounds were different. Noah drank more wine, and drank it all—

The ship’s music.

The hull creaked, the rigging hummed, and the fittings groaned. A constant, deep, whiny squeal came from between the floorboards and wood, the ropes and flapping sails, as if the very ship was alive and she was horny.

Is it…?

Noah moved about the hull, glancing left and right, before calling out, “If you’re there… let me know… and I’ll treat you like a good little horny spirit you are.”

No one answered him. Noah wasn’t expecting anyone to.

Worth a shot… he snorted.

In this world, ships could be alive. They had souls.

The concept of a Klabautermann was introduced before the timeskip. The Going Merry had one, and it was the shit that ultimately saved the asses of the Nepo Hats. Noah always thought it was a bit crazy that ships could have a soul, but this was a world where objects could eat fruits, there were demon-summoning rituals, magic, and other inexplicable bullshit. In Pirate Fantasy Shonen Land, a ship with a soul wasn’t even scratching the surface of top ten wildest facts.

It didn’t compare to the existence of Super Saiyan Werewolf Furries. 

Super Saiyan Werewolf Furries with innate biological stun-guns.

Super Saiyan Werewolf Furries with innate biological stun-guns living on a thousand-year-old elephant walking on the ocean.

He could not make this shit up. 

The Mink Tribe was a fever dream.

I’m not a furry but…  

Carrot can get it…

Yeah… fucking a literal bunny girl in a bunny girl suit… that’s gonna be peak.

I’m not a furry though… not a fucking furry…

For real, I'm not a furry…

But game is game.

Wonder if she fucks like a rabbit too…

Noah drank more of the wine. The sky was cloudy, and in the distance, flashes of light streaked across the cloud cover. That distance was far and vast, and those faint flashes were the only thing that illuminated the darkness that stretched into all corners beyond the ship. The ship had lanterns lit, but the darkness beyond it was a kind of darkness that made it impossible to see his own hand in front of his face.

Fall overboard at night, and no one will ever notice… not without Observation Haki anyway.

Noah swiveled the wine bottle.

All those shitty jumpscare videos about thalassophobia might have been on to something… the ocean is a helluva bitch.

The deck rolled under him and made it feel like he was walking on the back of a living, breathing creature. Whether it was his imagination, whether it was because he was drunk, or because this ship really did have a spirit, Noah did not know. He was breaking in his sea legs, as after a mere day on board, his body was unconsciously swaying to compensate for the ship’s own sway, for its rocking back and forth atop the waves.

Noah stretched his arms out as the wind blew in his hair

“I’M GONNA BE…” 

He roared.

“THE KING OF THE WORLD!”

His voice echoed out, traveling into the distance, with a shockwave of Conqueror’s Haki that rippled over the ocean’s surface, and almost twisted about in the darkness beyond. 

It was almost a rite of passage for anyone to do the Titanic bit, but unlike Jack, Noah meant it. He meant every word of it.

One day… I’ll sit on that Empty Throne… but I won’t be doing it from the shadows. Nah… fuck that shit. 

I’ll be doing it in the open.

That’s what it means to be—

The greatest.

Gazing out into the blackness of the ocean and making his declaration, the burst of Conqueror’s Haki suppressed the waves. It calmed the very ocean around him. It was as if he had imposed his pure will on the sea itself, as if he had told the sea, I’m gonna make you my bitch, and the sea had answered, Yes, zaddy.

Noah had always known Conqueror’s Haki could knock out creatures, but calming the sea…?

Something from the ocean stirred. In the murky darkness, it was hard to get a clean enough view, but as the sight of a fin broke the surface of the water, it became clear that it was a creature, and one much, much larger than the entire ship. 

With pitch black fins and scales, the giant Sea King arose from the ocean with a force that had the ship swaying and nearly capsizing, and made the slumbering dolt in the crow’s nest, who was supposed to be on lookout, wake the fuck up, and start ringing the bell.

“Sea King! Sea King spotted!”

Members of the crew began rushing out, one after the other.

“A Sea King? But the bottom of the ship is lined with seastone! W-why is it here?!”

“Quickly! Man the cannons!”

Noah’s brows were raised. Can’t they tell that it’s already—

“Ah! Saint!” One of the members of the crew, a man wearing a Marine coat, finally noticed him immediately. “Saint, please, you need to take shelter! Sea Kings are dangerous!”

…The fuck is this fodder saying?

Noah was watching the crew members, marines, running up and down to rush to man the cannons, all panicking with varying levels of concern, and had his brows raising higher and higher.

The hell is going on here?

“Saint Noah.”

Guernika appeared beside him, probably having been stirred by the chaos. Noah pointed to the mooks and jerked his finger back to the murky Sea King.

“Are they stupid?”

“The average non-commissioned officer cannot handle a Sea King, Saint Noah,” Guernika said. “Even some commissioned officers die, often at sea, to them.”

Noah’s brow twitched. You’re fucking joking.

“You can handle one easily,” Noah said.

“The combat capabilities of members of Cipher Pol are not known to the general public,” Guernika shook his head. “Much less those of CP0. Moreover, the Rokushiki Arts are completely unheard of by non-commissioned officers. There are also commissioned officers who’ve never heard of them. The rank required to even be aware of Rokushiki is the rank of Captain.”

“You’re saying there are no Captains here?” Noah pointed. “There’s no one here that’s even that weak?”

Guernika cleared his throat. “Saint Noah, the rank of Captain is the sixth-highest position in the Marines.”

Noah blinked. “Yeah. I know. But they’re still weak as shit.”

“Compared to you, Saint… yes,” Guernika admitted. “Compared to the rest of the world… A Captain is a terrifying force. The only ones above them are Commodores, Rear Admirals, Vice Admirals, the Three Admirals, and the Fleet Admiral. The vast majority of people will never meet a Commodore, much less a Rear Admiral. Over eighty percent of pirates sailing the seas cannot hold a candle to Captain, and only the most seasoned or strongest amongst them ever manage to best one.”

…That can’t be right.

Noah’s brow twitched hard.

You’re telling me Captains… the likes of pre-timeskip Smoker, and post-timeskip Tashigi, are considered top-tiers in this world? They can neg eighty-percent of people?

“Aim! Fire!”

The marine fodders began blasting into the darkness with cannons. The boom of cannon fire made the entire ship tremble and rock. Noah’s ears ached from the sound. The cannon balls moved so painfully slow in his vision that Noah could swear he could catch up to it with Soru and Geppo, sit on top of it, finish the wine in his hand, crank one out, and still have enough time to hop off and return to the ship before it hit its target.

Yet, the cannon balls struck as one, hitting the murky figure under the waves, and the fodders began to cheer.

“We got it!”

“Direct hit!”

“Sink it to the bottom of the sea!”

…These fucking idiots.

“Guernika. Tell those idiots to cut off that blasted cannonfire before I shoot someone.”

“Understood, Saint.”

Guernika moved quickly, rushing to the front.

“Enough. You are all displeasing the Saint with the racket you are making.”

“But the Sea King—”

“That Sea King is already unconscious.”

There was a beat.

“It was unconscious the moment it emerged from the water. None of you had the wits to notice. It was never even a threat.”

The Marines all looked amazed, flabbergasted, and bashful. They were looking at Guernika as if he were some sort of superhuman monster, which made Noah’s brows twitch even harder.

All of this was because he’d used his Conqueror’s Haki on the ocean, but he didn’t think there’d just be a random Sea King lurking nearby. This was why he was going to that island for the next stage of his training. Armament Haki was something he’d fairly mastered, but Observation Haki was Noah’s current weakest point.

Yet, even his Observation Haki being as weak as it was, he’d been able to tell the Sea King was out cold the moment it rose from the water.

Guernika returned to his side, and Noah found himself swigging again from the wine, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Guernika.”

“Yes, Saint Noah?”

“How would you say a Captain compares to Pirates in the New World?”

Guernika took a moment. “The number of pirates that manage to make it from the Four Blues into the Grand Line is incredibly small. Only a fraction, perhaps ten percent or less. Those who manage to make it to the Second Half of the Grand Line are even smaller. Perhaps only about one percent of those initial ten percent...”

“Go on.”

“A Captain would struggle,” Guernika said. “But that is only because the kind of pirates present are the most dangerous, at the very top of the world. Any pirate who manages to have survived even just the first half of the Grand Line can reign uncontested in any of the Four Blues. Those on the Second Half are superior to those on the First Half. Most Captains would not be able to handle encountering such individuals frequently. Commodores and Fleet Admirals, however, would… Saint? Is something wrong?”

Noah was furiously rubbing the bridge of his nose. “...No, nothing.”

…Doesn’t matter. I was always aiming for the very top anyway… my real opps are Imu, and the God’s Knights, not some no-name East Blue chump…

But… You can’t seriously be telling me that, as I am, what, I’d neg the Four Blues? Bitch… I haven’t even finished my training yet…

The thought was somewhat hard for Noah to wrap his head around. That, as he was, if he went to either the West Blue, East Blue, North Blue, or South Blue, he could take over nations with just his own strength alone, and it’d take someone from the New World to even have a chance to stop him.

He didn’t feel it.

He didn’t feel like he was that strong.

He felt like he had much farther to go.

Compared to Whitebeard, Mihawk, Roger and Rocks… he had a long way to go.

A long way to go to be able to leave those fuckers in his dust.

Yet, if Guernika was to be believed…

He was already a top-tier.

Nah. Not yet.

Noah didn’t buy it. 

Not fucking yet. More. There’s still more. I’ll keep training. More, and more. So what if I can neg fodders? My enemies are still too far away… still out of reach… Gotta keep getting stronger.

No Stopping!

No Limit!

No Limit!

No Stopping!

Noah never stopped. 

Never stopping, never looking back, he kept charging headfirst, head on.

That was why he was Noah.

That was why Noah was him.

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

“Saint Noah. We’re here.”

With the wind on their side, they made it to the destination with four whole days to spare. Noah stepped onto the hull, taking a long, deep breath, as his ears were almost deafened by the never-ending sound of thunder.

The air crackled with the scent of ozone. Crackled and charged and sputtered and roared. His hair, and the hair of everyone around him, was standing on its edge, just where they were, off the coast. The real problem was the sound, the noise pollution, which was like a hundred cannons going off every single second. It was enough to give someone tinnitus, if not make them go completely deaf.

The island was there, off in the distance, dangerously and insanely inviting to anyone stupid enough, or mad enough to want to go there. The Nepo Hats had never been there, because they’d chosen a different route; thus, not even Noah knew what exactly he’d find on the Island.

“W-what is this place…?”

The fodder marines were sweating uneasily, each of them backing away as the endless thunder boomed from the distance.

“I heard the weather on this half of the New World was insane, but…”

“It’s… it’s… raining lightning there…?”

Noah grinned.

He had reached his destination.

Raijin Island.

It was one of the first places shown of the New World, and the first stop of the Fallen Monk Pirates. It was one of the three islands one needed to get through if they were relying on the Log Pose.

It was also the perfect place to train Observation Haki.

“Saint Noah…” Guernika said, suddenly realizing just what it was Noah had in mind. “The lightning on this island is unnatural. It is more volatile and unpredictable than regular lightning. If you are struck by it… You are very likely to die.”

“Then, I’ve got to make sure I don’t get struck, don’t I?”

Noah craned his neck.

“It’s called getting gud. It’s a rite of passage.”

“Risking your life, Saint—”

“You only die once, Guernika. But the aura you gather while living…”

Noah jumped into the air, using Geppo to fly forward.

“That shit lasts forever.”