Simultaneous Transmigration: Why is it all One Piece world?

The year is 1526 in the Sea Calendar, 13 years before Luffy set sail.

10000 meters underwater in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise, Fishman Island, Fishman Street.

The somber coral reefs, like giant skeletons, stretched for dozens of miles along the seabed. Rusty shipwrecks lay scattered in the silt, their hulls covered in barnacles and seaweed. The seawater was murky, carrying a lingering stench of decay—a mixture of garbage, dead fish, and the stench of the fish-men of the deep.

Fishman Street.

This slum at the very bottom of Fishman Island shelters forgotten creatures.

Nock stepped out of an abandoned ship cabin and stretched his shoulders.

The muscles rolled beneath the skin, every fiber brimming with power. The feeling was strange; this fifteen-year-old body, though still his own, felt like a completely different one.

Twenty-three years of honing his skills have now become his foundation.

He looked down at his hands.

Blue skin, jagged nose, sharp teeth—the typical appearance of a whale shark.

But hidden within this shell are things that shouldn't belong to Fishman Street.

Iron blocks, paper drawings, and...

He casually picked up a rusty iron bar from the ground and weighed it in his hand.

Then he swung it.

The iron bar traced an arc in the air and struck a coral branch as thick as an arm beside it.

Click.

The coral branch snapped in response.

Nock stared at the iron bar in his hand and remained silent for a while.

This thing isn't a knife; it's just a rusty piece of scrap iron, so dull it can't even kill a fish.

But he unleashed a slash.

Swordsman Nock, after twenty-four years, has reached the level of swordsmanship capable of cutting through steel; his skills are indeed effective.

He threw away the iron bar and looked up into the depths of Fishman Street.

That was the place where he lived for fifteen years.

Garbage dumps, shipwrecks, dilapidated shacks, thugs, hooligans, human traffickers. People die every day, and people are born every day. The living continue to fight for food, while the dead are thrown into the sea to feed the fish.

This is Fishman Street.

He used to just want to survive, living one day at a time.

But now—

Nock clenched his fist.

He wanted more than just to live.

He wants to become the leader of the local gangs.

Then find Jinbe, learn Fishman Karate, become famous, and become an unrestrained being.

There is only one way to do these things—

beat.

Beat all the thugs into submission!

Nock strode forward, heading deeper into Fishman Street.

After passing several abandoned shipwrecks and rounding a mountain of garbage, the view suddenly opened up before us.

In a clearing surrounded by shipwreck wreckage, with seawater blocked by a bubble membrane, dozens of fish-men lay or sat around a campfire, drinking and gambling. There were swordfish, sharks, octopuses, and many more mixed-race species.

This is the territory of the largest gang of thugs in Fishman City. The boss is called Pazu, 34 years old, a Saw Ray. He took control of this chaotic street after Jinbe left Fishman City to join the army.

Nock stopped in his tracks.

At the very edge, a few thugs noticed him.

"Hey, isn't this that little bastard?" An octopus-like thug exhaled a puff of smoke and grinned. "What, here to offer tribute today?"

The other thugs joined in the laughter.

Nock ignored him.

He looked across at the burly man surrounded by several thugs—Baru.

Standing over two meters tall, with gray skin and a distinctive long snout flanked by sharp serrations, it was lazily leaning against a wrecked ship plank, drinking.

"Baru," Nok said.

The laughter stopped.

Everyone looked at him, their eyes filled with amusement. Daring to call the boss by his name? Has this kid taken the wrong medicine today?

Balu slowly raised his head and squinted at Nok.

"Um?"

"From today onwards," Nock said, "I am the boss of Fishman Street."

A dead silence.

Then a deafening roar of laughter erupted.

"Hahahaha! What did he say? He owns Fishman Street?"

"That little bastard's gone mad!"

"Boss Balu, this kid's asking for it!"

Balu laughed too. He put down the wine jug, slowly stood up, and his two-meter-tall body cast a shadow.

"Interesting." He cracked his neck, the bones popping, and the serrated edges of his long snout gleamed coldly in the firelight. "Are you tired of living, or did you forget to take your meds today?"

Without saying a word, Nock walked straight toward Balu.

But after taking only two steps, he was blocked by a figure.

It was that octopus-like thug from before. He spat out the cigarette butt from his mouth, and eight tentacles slowly stretched out, each as thick as an adult's arm. The suckers attached to them opened and closed, emitting a disgusting dark red color.

"Kid," he grinned, revealing jagged, sharp teeth, "the boss's talking to you!"

The laughter around them grew even louder.

"Old Octopus, teach him a lesson!"

"Don't kill him, keep him alive to play with later!"

"You little bastard, it's not too late to kneel down!"

Octopus Lao Ba stretched out two tentacles and waved them in front of Nok, his posture as disdainful as if he were teasing a small fish fry.

He wanted to say something, but Nock didn't give him the chance.

The mud and sand beneath his feet exploded, and he shot out like a torpedo. Octopus Eight's pupils contracted sharply, and his eight tentacles instinctively lashed forward—

But Nock was already in front of him.

too fast.

The physique that Navy Knock honed over twenty-two years was on full display at this moment.

Before Octopus Eight's tentacles could even touch him, Nock's fist had already slammed into his face.

It was just a straight punch.

The strength of a fishman's wrist, combined with the power of a navy man's waist and legs.

boom!

The moment the fist made contact with Octopus Eight's face, his face caved in, then exploded violently, flying out and embedding itself into the keel of the sunken ship with a rumble, his whole body forming a bizarre "like" shape, his tentacles drooping limply.

Among the fish-men, there are strong individuals, such as Tiger, Jinbe, and Roger's fish-man partner Sambell, all of whom are among the strongest in the world.

But it's not in Fishman Street.

Fifteen years later, Hody Jones, the boss of Fishman Street, is nothing more than Jinbe's underling, and without drugs, he can't even beat Arlong!

Therefore, Nok felt confident that he could easily become the boss of Fishman Street!

At this moment, the entire venue fell silent.

The expression that was just laughing was frozen in place at the corner of his mouth.

Some people dropped their wine jugs on the ground, some people opened their mouths and forgot to close them, some people subconsciously took a step back, which then caused more people to step back.

Nock withdrew his fist.

He didn't even glance over there, simply flicking the blood off his hands.

Then continue walking forward.

One step, two steps.

He stepped through the mud and sand, past the broken teeth of the octopus, and walked toward Balu.

The thugs around the campfire retreated to both sides like a tide, making way for them.

No one dared to stop them.

Balu's face darkened.

The smile vanished, the serrated edges on either side of the long snout trembled slightly, and a truly ferocious glint appeared in the fish-like eyes.

"Good," he said, his voice as deep as an undercurrent at the bottom of the sea. "Very good, interesting."

He raised his hand, and several of his trusted men behind him instinctively tried to step forward, but he stopped them.

"Don't move."

He twisted his neck, his joints cracking, and his two-meter-tall body took a step forward, the mud and sand sinking beneath his feet.

"I'll do it myself!"