Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode-Chapter 594: Ascend The Stairs

Outside the building, the flow of players did not stop. They came in waves from every direction, weapons stained with blood, armor cracked, eyes burning with greed and exhaustion.

Shouts overlapped chaotically as they gathered at the base of the intact tower. They point upward, sensing the same pull.

"The Apex is inside!"

"He’s hiding up there!"

"If we kill him, the rewards will be insane!"

"That’s the strongest player! The system won’t be stingy!"

Rumors stacked on top of rumors, growing louder and more distorted with every passing second. No one knew the exact reward but everyone believed it would be worth everything. They would got the skills, titles, rare items, and the Authority-whatever that might be. Maybe even a direct favor from the World Master.

Dozens of them said the same thing at once.

But dozens of hunters also meant dozens of knives pointed at each other’s backs.

They eyed one another warily as they rushed inside. Some slowed and calculated inside their minds. Others clutched their weapons tighter, already deciding who they might need to kill after Clyde was dead.

Alliances formed and dissolved within seconds. Tension hung thick in the air.

Then they reached the stairwell. The smell hit them first.

Blood. Old and fresh mixed together, heavy and metallic. The air was warm, humid, reeking of death.

They looked up. The stairs were no longer visible. They were buried under the bodies that were stacked unnaturally, twisted limbs and broken armor clogging every step.

Blood, organs, and heads or limbs coated the walls in thick layers, dripping down like paint. Severed weapons lay embedded in flesh or snapped in half. The stair rail was bent and slick, stained dark red.

Silence spread on them.

One man took a step forward and stopped. Another man swallowed hard. Someone gagged instantly. The terror was palpable on their faces.

"...What the hell is this?"

"How did so many die here?"

"Did... did they even reach him?"

No one answered those questions.

The realization crept in slowly and painfully. These weren’t weak players. The corpses wore high-grade armor.

Some of them even still glowed faintly with inactive buffs. These were hunters who had charged in with confidence and never made it past the stairs.

Fear seeped through the crowd. They hesitated.

Eyes shifted upward, then back to the bodies, then to each other. No one wanted to be the first to step over that pile and be the next corpse added to it.

"Y-you go first."

"Why me?"

"Didn’t you say you were strong?"

"Shut up. You’re closer!"

Arguments broke out. Voices rose. Someone backed away.

Then four figures pushed through the crowd.

They moved without urgency, without fear in their faces, their presence sharp enough to cut through the noise.

The group of four stepped past the hesitating players as if they weren’t even there.

"Pathetic." The spear-wielder looked down at the bodies and scoffed. The shield-bearer cracked his neck. The caster’s eyes glowed faintly. The agile woman’s gaze stayed fixed upward.

"Cowards," one of them muttered loudly.

The word landed like a slap. The surrounding players bristled immediately.

"What did you say?"

"You think you’re better than us?"

"Try going first then!"

The argument escalated fast, anger masking fear. Hands tightened on weapons.

Then the shield-bearer moved. He sent one swing and a man’s head exploded against the wall, his skull caving in with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered across the stairwell entrance.

Silence dropped instantly. No one spoke or moved anymore.

The four didn’t even look back.

They stepped into the stairwell and went to work. Bodies were kicked aside, dragged down, or crushed further to clear a path.

Broken limbs snapped under armored boots without care. Weapons were tossed away like trash.

The stairs were cleared floor by floor, step by step.

They climbed steadily upward, unbothered by the blood soaking their boots.

As they climbed, the tower no longer felt like an empty structure.

The sounds finally reached them. Steel clashing against another steel. Bone snapping under force. The wet, unmistakable sound of flesh being torn apart. Screams cut short echoed down the stairwell, followed by heavy impacts as bodies struck walls or tumbled down unseen floors.

Magic skills detonated somewhere above, sending vibrations through the concrete. Heat washed down the stairs in brief waves, carrying the stench of burned blood and scorched metal.

The four continued upward without slowing.

With every step, the sounds grew clearer and more violent. The fight above was not just chaotic. It was one-sided. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Attacks flared and died almost instantly. Shouts turned into choking gasps. Confidence shattered fast. Whatever was happening above was not a battle. It was a slaughter moving forward.

The spear-wielder’s lips curled slightly. His grip tightened until his knuckles whitening. His eyes gleamed with anticipation rather than fear.

The shield-bearer’s breathing grew heavier, not from exhaustion but excitement. His pulse hammered loudly in his ears. This was what he had been waiting for. A real opponent. A wall that did not crumble at his first touch.

The caster’s mana stirred on its own, responding to the pressure bleeding down the stairwell. His pupils dilated faintly as calculations raced through his mind.

In her mind, power like this was rare and dangerous. Worth risking everything.

The agile woman felt the pull and the threat most clearly. Her instincts screamed, not to retreat, but to sharpen. Her body leaned forward slightly as if already preparing to sprint.

This was no longer about rewards. This was an exhilarating show of power. They ascended faster now.

When they reached the upper floors, the scene opened before them.

Fresh and broken bodies littered the corridor ahead. Blood was still flowing, pooling across cracked tiles.

A man slammed into the wall ahead, his spine folding unnaturally before he dropped lifeless to the floor. A woman tried to flee, only to be caught by a flash of silver that split her open from shoulder to hip.

At the center of it all stood Clyde and Mina.

The Demonic Sword moved as if it were part of him, pale bone cutting through armor and flesh without resistance.

His movements were precise and relentless. Every strike ended a life.

Beside him, Mina flowed through the chaos like a shadow. Her daggers struck vital points with brutal efficiency. She never hesitated or overextended her moves. Her kill was clean, fast, and final.

The remaining players were already breaking. The four stopped at the edge of the corridor, watching.

Ahead of them, death was still unfolding.

"Let’s go," the spear wielder said.

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