On the night of the fight between Liam and William against Billy Stark and his henchmen in the alleyway, the principal's office lay shrouded in dim light, with only a single lamp casting a faint glow over the polished oak desk. The silence was broken as the door creaked open, and a soldier stepped in, his expression tense.
"Sir," he began, his voice steady but cautious, "I've come to report the incident."
The principal, an imposing man with cold, calculating eyes, leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the wood. His face twisted in displeasure. "That boy again," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. "He's interfered with the plan."
The soldier's jaw tensed. "Yes, sir. It seems he… disrupted the situation with the Stark child."
The principal's gaze darkened, eyes narrowing to slits. "And what of the artifact?"