A sudden crack filled the air as Liam grabbed the mopping stick and snapped it cleanly into two as if it was nothing more than a twig. The sound echoed through the now silent hallway, making several students flinch. The jagged edges of the broken stick looked sharp, dangerous—almost like a weapon.
But Liam wasn't looking at the stick. His eyes were locked onto Kane.
His expression was eerily calm, but that was what made it so terrifying.
Liam slowly tightened his grip around the lower half of the broken stick, his knuckles turning white. Then, without a word, he took a step forward.
Kane, who had been standing there, frozen in place, suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to move. His body acted on instinct, taking an unsteady step back. His smirk had long since disappeared, and his confidence had shattered into a million pieces. His voice came out broken, weak, filled with uncertainty as he stammered,
"W-What are you trying to do…?"
Nobody answered him.
Nobody even moved.
