Chapter 281: Doberman
In the face of Doberman's command, his men executed without hesitation, fostering an iron-blooded mentality over time.
Aboard the Poseidon, the quiet of the sea was broken by hurried footsteps.
"Captain! We've spotted a Navy warship ahead!"
The lookout reported loudly as he burst into the captain's quarters.
Charlotte, wiping oil from his mouth with a napkin, raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"Oh? Navy, huh? Might as well go out and meet them. Could be a good chance to make the Rockefeller Pirates' name known around here."
Standing up, he set down his utensils and stepped outside.
His children, always eager for excitement, followed behind him, chattering with enthusiasm. Their mothers, seeing this, put down their own meals and trailed behind at a more leisurely pace.
Charlotte had been pondering how to establish their reputation in the North Blue—he hadn't expected the Navy to deliver themselves on a silver platter.
As he walked out, he noticed how efficiently the crew had gathered on deck, lined up and ready.
He glanced at Barrett and gave a nod of approval. The man's leadership skills were impeccable—strong, disciplined, and efficient. Charlotte felt fortunate to have found such a capable first mate.
Taking the spyglass handed to him, Charlotte peered through it, spotting a young Navy officer on the approaching warship.
The officer wore a naval captain's coat, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His face was rugged, marked with crisscrossing scars—a look that was both fierce and vigilant.
"Ah… Doberman."
Charlotte's lips curled into a smirk.
It was the man who would one day become Vice Admiral Doberman, known for denouncing Red-Haired Shanks during the Summit War.
Back then, he'd already shown fearlessness in the face of power.
Right now, though, he was still just a captain.
Charlotte chuckled. "Bold of him to get so close. Does he not recognize me, or is he just that reckless?"
The crew, seeing his amused expression, exchanged glances, some even chuckling.
After all, they had traveled the New World for so long that encountering a Navy ship willing to confront them head-on felt almost nostalgic.
Some of the more battle-hungry crew members had already drawn their swords, licking the blades in anticipation.
As Doberman's ship neared, his foreboding sense of danger only intensified.
"Why aren't they running? Most pirates would flee the moment they saw the Navy…"
Doberman gripped his sword tightly, struggling to shake the ominous feeling.
The Poseidon loomed over his ships like a colossal behemoth, dwarfing his three warships into insignificance.
"It's… massive!"
His men couldn't help but murmur in awe.
"Shut up! Open fire!"
Doberman barked his command, cutting off their whispers.
Cannons roared to life, sending shells arcing through the air toward the Poseidon.
But before they could land—
A graceful figure stepped forward.
It was Irene, raising her delicate hands with a confident smile.
From her palms emerged countless bubbles, floating into the air to intercept the cannonballs.
When the projectiles collided with the bubbles, they simply vanished without causing any damage.
Doberman narrowed his eyes. "A Devil Fruit user…"
He hated fighting these tricky opponents. Devil Fruit abilities were unpredictable, and dealing with them often proved more hazardous than fighting normal pirates.
As the smoke cleared, Doberman saw a flash of golden hair through his spyglass.
He could hardly believe his eyes.
"Is that… Rockefeller Charlotte?"
His hands trembled.
He couldn't help but think back to the Navy Elite Camp, where they had drilled into him the terror of New World pirates.
One name always echoed above the rest—Rockefeller Charlotte.
"Why is he here in the North Blue?"
He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure.
"If it's him… we're finished."
But retreating now would be cowardice. If his men saw him back down, his career would be over.
Drawing his sword, he used Moonwalk to launch himself onto the enemy ship, landing on the Poseidon's deck.
He was greeted by dozens of pairs of eyes, all staring at him like he was prey.
A towering man with golden hair, regal in his red and gold attire, looked down at him with a bemused smirk.
"Recognize me, huh? Your teacher, Zephyr, must've mentioned me."
Doberman felt cold sweat drip down his spine.
He didn't need any more confirmation.
This man was definitely Rockefeller Charlotte—the Legend of the New World.
Instinct screamed at him to flee, but his pride as a Marine refused to let him show weakness.
He steeled himself, gripping his sword tighter.
Charlotte just grinned.
"So, you're Zephyr's student. A bit too green to challenge me, don't you think?"
Doberman's jaw clenched, his pride and fear warring within him.
The rest of the crew, sensing the tension, smirked and jeered. They knew this foolish Marine wouldn't last long.
Doberman took a deep breath.
Even if death awaited him—
He wouldn't back down.
He charged forward, roaring:
"For justice!"
But before he could even complete his swing—
A blinding strike from Charlotte's blade sent him crashing into the deck, coughing up blood.
Charlotte looked down at him, not even breaking a sweat.
"Your resolve isn't bad… but you're far too weak."
Doberman struggled to rise, but his body refused to obey.
As his vision blurred, he heard Charlotte's calm, almost bored voice.
"Take him below deck. Make sure he gets treated—I'm not interested in killing him. Yet."
His vision faded, the last thing he saw being the imposing figure of Charlotte, standing like a god among men.
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