While on the way to Peter's base, Mathew spent quite a while trying to figure out what was the source of the problems over there.

Because the situation appeared to be simple only on the surface.

From an outsider's perspective, Leila's actions were the most straightforward course one could take. Rather than waiting for people to turn into zombies, she did everything in her power to buy them as much time as possible so that they could survive until Mathew would arrive with the cure.

As for the people who couldn't have their wounds cleaned out, cauterized, or simply amputated, she opted to keep them separated from the rest of the group, ready to pounce on them the second they would start to turn.

It was that simple. A set of rational decisions aimed to save as many as she could while taking the necessary cost of doing so.

But…

'What if someone tripped and cut their hand open on a piece of rubble?' Mathew thought while he was still busy walking through the empty streets. 'What if someone refuses to acknowledge they got infected?'

Losing one's limb wasn't only physical torture. It didn't end in extreme fear of having their life permanently altered due to amputation. There was still the mental trauma that only reinforced whatever post-traumatic stress disorder Peter's wounded would have after the lost battle with the zombies!

The more Mathew thought about the situation, the more points he noticed. And by the time he arrived on the scene, this simple problem grew into a massive, complex maze of conflicting views, desires, and needs.

"Your presence is highly appreciated," Leila said, her face relaxing a tiny little bit when she noticed Mathew's arrival.

"What's the situation?" Mathew stepped forward and asked, trying to pay no mind to the weapons held by literally everyone involved in the conflict.

He saw the corpse of the high evolved zombie. He heard the recounts from Norbert over how he managed to use his own guns to hold the zombies at bay.

And by recalling the physical prowess of each of those high evolved zombies that he fought with, he now knew for sure that in his current state, a bullet to his head would be as lethal as it would be for a normal, system-less human.

"They are refusing to show their wounds," Leila reported, shaking her head to point at the right side of the opposing group with her chin.

Normally, one would use their hand to point at someone. But with how tense the situation was, the girl was smart enough not to make any movements that could make the other party think she was about to draw her saber.

"What is the problem, though?" Mathew asked, resting his hands on his hips as he moved his eyes from Leila's face to the huge group of people who stood opposed to her. "If they can't comply with such a simple order, just throw them out."

Mathew shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. On the inside, though, he paid extreme attention to how the other party would react.

After all, his idea of fanning the flames a little was reliant on the reaction of those who he wanted to agitate!

"Shut your crap, kid!" one of Peter's soldiers shouted, near instantly falling prey to Mathew's scheme. "It's not about undressing. Your whore of a girlfriend will cut us the second she sees even a single scratch!"

While shouting, the man tightened his grip on a semi-automatic rifle he held in his hands.

'I guess there is no other way,' Mathew thought. He then looked the agitated man straight in the face.

Mathew's face softened a bit. 'Lessons are best taught in blood.'

The situation was far too volatile and way too important for Mathew to use any other means.

"First off, the next time you dare to insult me or any of my women," Mathew started, strangely calming down. "Your head will fly, regardless of your potential wounds."

Something warm was spreading in his abdomen. A strange call that he last felt only a few hours before, when he had to put his all on the stake of survival.

Back then, he had to face a trio of high evolved zombies supported by a huge host of mob zombies. Right now, he was facing at least twenty firearms, all ready to gun him down.

And yet, Mathew felt no fear.

No, that's the wrong way to put it.

He could feel his fear, somewhere at the border of his consciousness. But it wasn't the fear that drove him. His fear, only served as the sobering factor, allowing him to keep his head relatively cool.

"As for your amputated limbs," Mathew said as he deliberately turned his eyes towards the rest of Leila's opposition, away from its most agitated man, "I might have a solution for that. And as impossible as it sounds, there is a chance I could let you have them back."

Mathew waited a few seconds for the other group to fully digest his words.

"That doesn't apply to you," he turned his eyes back towards the man he targeted. "You already lost your chance."

The fun thing was, the guy has yet to have any of his limbs amputated. From how lightly he moved, it was unclear whether he was injured at all in the first place.

And yet, being singled out like that only fanned the flames in the man's soul even more than before.

"You little…!" the man screamed out, raising his weapon.

"Leila."

The girl didn't hesitate. And while she might be unable to withstand a close-range shot of a weapon of this caliber…

With all of her system upgrades, she was far faster than a mere mortal could ever dream to be.

And just like Mathew ordained, she took the man's head off with a single slash of her saber, even before he could fully raise his weapon to aim it.

"EVERYONE, STAND DOWN!" Peter screamed from the bottom of his lungs, desperately trying to keep the reins of the rapidly deteriorating situation.

A mix of different feelings coursed through his face.

He was hopeful and thankful when Mathew arrived, clearly expecting him to help calm the situation down. He got annoyed when Mathew went against his unspoken wish and agitated the conflicted parties. And his eyes widened in terror when he saw the ultimate solution Mathew found.

The body of the unfortunate victim of the conflict stood still for a few seconds, a fountain of blood shooting out of its severed arteries.

The body fell forward as if wanting to get down to its knees and beg for mercy. Then, gravity pulled it down, making it splash chest-first against the floor.

The blood spurting from the severed neck of the corpse quickly formed a pool of blood that near instantly reached the soles of Mathew's shoes.

"Raise your gun and you are dead, it's that simple," Mathew announced in a calm tone, not paying the situation any greater mind. "And in the meantime, I wonder if you guys would be interested in a cure for the zombie virus," he then added, casually pulling out a set of five vials that he kept on himself.

The situation was about to break into total chaos. The people Mathew threatened weren't so fickle as to lose their cool when seeing one of their fellow soldiers die. And seeing the complete lack of hesitation when it came to killing one of their own, many of them were only a second away from taking the risk of duking it out anyway.

Yet, when Mathew pulled the vials out, a single thought of hesitation sparked in everyone's mind.

"The only question is," Mathew used the moment of shock his reveal caused to put a small smile on his face. "Can you afford its price?"

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