In the world of pirates and marines, where power determines freedom, a former World Noble has cast aside their divine privilege to chase an impossible dream. **Seraphim D. Atlas**, once destined to rule from the sacred heights of Mary Geoise, now sails the Grand Line with a bounty on their head
The execution platform creaked ominously in the salty breeze of Loguetown, casting long shadows across the cobblestone square. Merchants hawked their wares to passing pirates and marines alike, but all eyes were drawn to the unusual figure standing atop the very platform where the Pirate King had met his end.
"Excuse me! Sorry, coming through!"
Seraphim D. Atlas—though they'd been desperately trying to get people to just call them "Atlas"—carefully climbed down from the wooden structure, their pristine white coat billowing dramatically in the wind. Despite their best efforts to dress like a "normal pirate," everything about them still screamed nobility: the perfect posture, the polite apologetic tone, and the unconscious habit of bowing slightly to everyone they passed.
"By all means, take your time photographing the legendary platform!" Atlas called cheerfully to a group of tourists, completely missing how their overly formal speech made every casual interaction sound like a royal decree.
A grizzled old pirate nearby spat in the dirt. "Another rich kid playing dress-up. Probably thinks the Grand Line's some kind of adventure cruise."
Atlas's enhanced hearing—a side effect of their Devil Fruit constantly adapting to their surroundings—picked up every word. Their shoulders sagged slightly, but they straightened with renewed determination.
*I have to prove I'm different. I have to prove I belong here.*
"Attention citizens of Loguetown!"
The voice boomed across the square with practiced authority. Atlas winced as they recognized the crisp uniform of a Marine Captain approaching, flanked by a small squadron. Captain Ironwood, if Atlas remembered correctly—they'd made a point of studying every notable Marine officer before setting out to sea.
"We've received reports of a suspicious individual causing disturbances near the execution platform. Someone matching the description of..." The Captain's voice trailed off as his eyes locked onto Atlas's face. Recognition dawned like a sunrise, followed immediately by the pale shock of someone who'd just spotted a ghost.
"S-Saint... Saint Seraphim?!"
The entire square went dead silent. Even the seagulls seemed to pause mid-flight.
Atlas's heart sank. They'd hoped to make it at least a full day before their past caught up with them. "Actually, it's just Atlas now. No more Saint anything, if you please."
"You... you can't be serious." Captain Ironwood's hand trembled slightly on his sword hilt. "A Celestial Dragon... here? In Loguetown? Dressed like... like..."
"Like a pirate," Atlas finished helpfully, gesturing to their admittedly still-too-clean white coat and carefully arranged bandana. "Because that's what I am now. Well, trying to be. Still working out some of the details."
The crowd had begun to back away in concentric circles, creating an ever-widening ring of terror and confusion. Some people dropped to their knees out of habit, others looked ready to bolt, and a few brave souls actually seemed angry.
"This is some kind of joke," muttered a woman clutching her child. "Celestial Dragons don't become pirates."
"They don't even come down from their holy city," added a merchant, his voice barely above a whisper.
Atlas felt their Devil Fruit power stirring restlessly beneath their skin, automatically beginning to adapt to the mounting tension in the crowd. Their body was preparing for conflict, threat assessment flooding their enhanced senses with data about every person in the square. They forced themselves to breathe deeply, trying to suppress the adaptation response.
*No. I won't use my power to intimidate them. That's exactly what the old me would have done.*
"Captain Ironwood," Atlas said, stepping forward with their hands raised peacefully. "I understand this is... unusual. But I'm not here to cause trouble. I just wanted to see where the Pirate King began his final speech. To understand what it really means to chase your dreams."
The Marine Captain's face cycled through several expressions before settling on professional bewilderment. "Sir... I mean... Lord... I mean..." He took a deep breath. "What exactly are you doing here?"
Atlas grinned, and for a moment their whole face transformed. Gone was the careful noble composure, replaced by something wild and genuine and completely un-Celestial Dragon-like. "I'm starting my pirate crew! Want to join?"
The sound of Captain Ironwood choking on his own spit was audible across the entire square.
"You want me... a Marine Captain... to join... your pirate crew?"
"Well, when you put it like that, it does sound a bit silly," Atlas admitted, scratching the back of their head sheepishly. "But I've read that the strongest crews have people from all different backgrounds! And you seem very competent. Good leadership posture, well-maintained equipment, excellent projection of authority..."
"THAT'S NOT HOW PIRACY WORKS!"
The outburst came from somewhere in the crowd—a rough-looking woman with short black hair and grease-stained clothes. She pushed through the ring of onlookers, completely ignoring the fact that she was approaching a former World Noble.
"You can't just politely ask people to join your crew like you're hosting a tea party! Pirates fight for their dreams! They struggle and bleed and earn their place on the seas!" She jabbed a finger at Atlas's pristine coat. "You look like you've never had a real fight in your entire pampered life!"
Atlas blinked, then broke into an even wider grin. "You're absolutely right! I haven't! That's exactly the problem I'm trying to solve!"
The woman stared at them like they'd just declared their intention to swim to the moon. "What?"
"I've been thinking about this for months," Atlas continued enthusiastically, beginning to pace in small circles. "How can I prove I deserve to be a pirate captain when I've never actually... you know... pirated anything? I mean, I renounced my title and escaped Mary Geoise, but that's just the beginning, right?"
Their Devil Fruit was adapting to their emotional state now, making them more animated, their gestures more expressive, their voice carrying further without conscious effort. The crowd found themselves leaning in despite their fear.
"So I figured, what better place to start than where the greatest pirate of all time started? Maybe if I stood where Gold Roger stood, I'd understand something important about what it really means to chase your dreams!"
"And what did you learn?" The grease-stained woman's voice was skeptical, but she hadn't backed away.
Atlas paused their pacing and looked up at the execution platform, their expression growing thoughtful. "That he wasn't alone when he died. Even at the very end, facing execution, people still believed in his dream. His crew, his legacy, the next generation of pirates—they were all there with him in spirit."
They turned back to the crowd, and something in their bearing had shifted. Less naive noble, more... something else. Something determined.
"I don't want to rule people from above like I was taught. I want to find people whose dreams are so strong, so brilliant, that following them makes me stronger too. I want to build a crew where everyone makes everyone else better."
The square had gone quiet again, but it was a different kind of silence. Thoughtful rather than fearful.
Captain Ironwood cleared his throat. "That's... that's actually quite noble, Sir—I mean, Atlas. But you're still talking about becoming a criminal."
"Are you going to arrest me, Captain?"
The Marine officer looked genuinely conflicted. "I... should. But arresting a Celestial Dragon, even a former one, would require paperwork I don't think exists. And orders from people way above my pay grade."
"Then how about this," Atlas said, their grin turning slightly mischievous. "Give me one week. If I can prove I'm serious about being a real pirate—not just playing dress-up—then you can decide whether to arrest me or not. Fair?"
"How exactly do you plan to prove that?"
Atlas looked around the square, their enhanced senses picking up dozens of conversations, mapping the layout of the town, analyzing potential crew members among the crowd. Their Devil Fruit was already adapting to help them process all this information, turning them into a perfect recruitment machine.
But instead of using that adaptation, they forced themselves to just... look. With normal eyes. At normal people living normal lives.
"I have no idea," they admitted cheerfully. "But I'm sure I'll figure something out! After all, the best adventures start with no plan at all, right?"
The grease-stained woman snorted out what might have been a laugh. "You're completely insane."
"Thank you! I was hoping someone would notice!"
As Atlas bounded off toward the town proper, leaving behind a very confused Marine Captain and a crowd of bewildered civilians, none of them noticed the figure watching from a nearby rooftop. A man in a dark coat lowered a Den Den Mushi, his conversation complete.
"Yes, sir. Confirmed sighting in Loguetown. The runaway World Noble has definitely gone rogue." A pause. "Should we... yes, sir. I understand. Termination authorized."
Far below, Seraphim D. Atlas continued their enthusiastic exploration of their first real pirate town, completely unaware that their old life had just placed a very expensive bounty on their new one.
The fallen angel's adventure was only just beginning.