To the public, the organization didn’t exist. Officially, it was an abandoned company hidden behind decades of fake records. In reality, it was the world’s deadliest network of assassins. Countless divisions worked beneath it, but only one stood above the rest. The Order. Its six members were Noah, Zen, Vincent, Sofia, Kilio, and Mark. Every one of them was considered a monster. Sofia was fearless and blunt, Noah relied on strategy, Zen crushed everything through brute force, Vincent never missed a shot, and Kilio was famous for staying calm under pressure. Then there was Mark. Loud, shameless, and completely unfiltered. If he thought something, he said it. Whether it embarrassed someone or not wasn’t his problem. He joked through serious meetings, teased everyone without mercy, and Kilio was always his favourite target. Somehow, Kilio put up with it. Mark also carried the same black backpack everywhere he went. Nobody questioned it anymore. It had simply become part of him. What nobody knew was that it held every weapon he owned, along with three mysterious dice. Whenever he needed it, the backpack could instantly teleport into his hand. The others, except Kilio, believed Mark rarely received missions because he wasn’t strong enough. They couldn’t have been more wrong. Mark was the strongest assassin the organization had ever produced. He could move at the speed of light, possessed overwhelming strength, and controlled abilities beyond imagination. His blue die summoned countless weapons. His red die controlled fire, water, lightning, ice, wind, and more. His yellow die was feared above all. Roll a one, two, or three, and his chosen target died instantly. Roll a four, five, or six, and it instead activated one of the other two dice. Only Kilio knew the truth. The two had secretly been dating for over a year, though nobody would guess it from how much Mark enjoyed annoying him. One evening every communicator inside headquarters activated at once. “Emergency summons. All Order members report immediately.” Minutes later, the six stood in the briefing room. The director’s face was unusually grim. “We’ve lost contact with three elite squads.” Even Mark stopped smiling. “You’re kidding,” he muttered. “One target eliminated them all.” Silence filled the room. A file landed on the table. “Do not underestimate this opponent.” Mark glanced at the photograph before his backpack instantly appeared in his hand. For the first time in a long while, he looked genuinely interested. “Finally,” he said with a grin. “Something that might actually be fun.”