Seeing Erics Peterson, Clara Rivera acted as though she had found salvation. "Director Peterson, save me! She's trying to kill me! It's not just me—she's disrespecting you! This is rebellion!"

Everyone was floored by Clara Rivera's shamelessness. What the hell was that about?!

Though clearly annoyed, Erics Peterson glanced at Clara Rivera, sprawled on the floor with blood soaking her calf. A slight pang of regret came over him. While Clara's looks were merely average, her skin and legs were exquisite—one of Peterson's favorite possessions. Well, now those legs could be ruined! Even if they healed, she'd have scars—maybe even a limp. There went his prized toy!

Even seething, Erics knew not to let anger spill over publicly. At least not in favor of a woman over a powerful ability user; other people would start getting wary. Damn ability users!

"Clara, shut your mouth! Stop saying nonsense!" Peterson yelled, signaling for help, "Where's the doctor? Take Clara for treatment now!" A doctor, accompanied by nurses, hurried forward. They quickly assessed Clara's injuries before carting her off.

With the commotion gone, the room found a brief silence.

Only then did Erics turn his attention to Teresa Taylor, feigning disappointment, "What are you trying to accomplish, Teresa?! Your behavior is devoid of organization and discipline. If everyone acted as you did, how would the work ever get done? You're upset over a little injustice? As a leader, if you can't handle this, how will I ever give you more responsibility when the time comes?"

In a masterful blend of reprimand and manipulation, Peterson deftly shifted blame to Teresa, hinting her actions jeopardized future advancement.

Most onlookers found Peterson's critique reasonable. After all, causing a scene right outside a leader's office was a major breach, especially within the systematic hierarchy of New York State.

Many felt Teresa had overreacted.

Yet, a few sharp-minded individuals viewed Peterson's deflection with disdain. Without his tacit permission, would Clara have dared to toss visitor applications? Naturally, none voiced criticism here that might challenge Peterson's authority.

Indeed, his words left Teresa feeling helpless. She wasn't skilled in political maneuvering and felt out of her depth against someone like Peterson. Frustrated, she replied, "I admit my mistake and am ready to accept any repercussions, but I have something to say!"

Stubborn fool! Peterson silently fumed.

Unbeknownst to Teresa, her actions had been under close watch and relayed to Peterson, including her interactions with Jemmy. Surprisingly, the details reached him swiftly.

Despite Teresa's impressive powers, Peterson didn't blindly trust her. Based on her recent experiences, he knew what she was going to say.

He wasn't keen on publicly debating sensitive issues with her; any failure could tarnish his leadership. However, they were beyond that point.

"Very well, speak your mind. We're open to discussing anything," said Peterson, reluctantly opening the floor.

With her face set sternly, Teresa asked, "Why is the treatment of survivors so harsh at the base? Immediate executions?"

Silly woman! Peterson relaxed slightly, hiding a wry smile. That Teresa had the audacity to ask such naive questions in public revealed her naivety.

Her question highlighted the glaring conflict between the power-holders and the survivors—those in the room were among the elite! Meaning everyone here was naturally inclined to side with Peterson.

Unlike Teresa's idealistic compassion, most people were pragmatic, aiming for personal survival benefits. The rest were irrelevant.

Thus, Teresa's question made her an easy target for Peterson.

"The chaos we find ourselves in demands strict measures," he replied smoothly, "We must crush any threats at their earliest signs."

"Consider who these survivors are—saints? Hardly! Out there is an apocalypse, food scarce. Anyone reaching this base might have blood on their hands; none are innocent! In the past life, they could easily have been murderers! Robbers! Rapists! We'd be executing them otherwise!"

"If we let them run rampant, the chaos would multiply, making future suppression costlier in lives."

"I understand Hertha, whom you brought in, was executed on her first day. That's challenging for you to accept."

"But by executing her for minor misconduct, only she died. If it escalated and required suppression, instead of one, ten or even a hundred might perish!"

"Each soldier is precious, trained and raised by me—my friends, my brothers. I couldn't bear their deaths from survivor violence over my softness. Do you get it, Teresa?! Do you understand?!"

His rising fervor was palpable, punctuating his anger with breast-beating, cheeks flushed crimson.

Teresa was speechless; Peterson's outburst left her overwhelmed, unable to refute. Most present agreed with Peterson. Weren't these survivors practically criminals? Wasn't Peterson merciful permitting them life here?

In their shoes, they'd prefer swiftly executing the lot!

Pleased with his triumph, Peterson inwardly reveled at Teresa's blunted effectiveness. Against such seasoned manipulation, how did Teresa think she could contend? Weakling!

In a world brimming with ability-wielders, no power was comparable to controlling the minds of others! With influence over the majority, words became power, and authority solidified.

Peterson put on a facade of righteous indignation, masking his smug contentment. "Any other questions? Let's discuss everything openly."

Through the exchange, Peterson realized Teresa was no threat—simply hot-headed, impetuous.

Not knowing the next step, Teresa faltered. Her initial anger had been doused by Peterson's torrent of rationale.

His arguments weren't novel to her; she also believed in valuing lives.

Yet, Peterson's eloquent defense nearly seemed reasonable, as though his vision accounted for the greater good.

Even if Teresa felt an unseen discord somewhere, she couldn't articulate it. So she resignedly asked, "Why are the survivors provided such meager food?"

Foolish! Peterson gleamed, spotting another chance: "This is the apocalypse, with pressures of survival extreme. We assure survivors working quietly aren't endangered. Soldiers and ability users are sent on missions; quality sustenance ensures performance. Regarding researchers, I'd think none dispute their value—technology remains our prime force for overcoming challenges, not us basic brutes."

Acknowledging the merits of everyone influential, Peterson's words brought comfort to all present.

Of course, they deserved their lush diet regardless of external strife. Survivors had it easy—work and security!

Confident of his dominance, Peterson maintained a poised gaze toward Teresa. "Do you have any more questions?"