Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode-Chapter 590: The Mark

He was out there, not far. Sean felt it hovering like an invisible brand, a pull that refused to be ignored. His long hair swayed lightly as he stood still, his sharp eyes locked onto the ruined skyline ahead.

Broken buildings layered the horizon but his gaze pierced through them as if walls meant nothing.

"He is there," he said quietly.

Beside him, a broad-shouldered man turned his head. His name is Connor. His expression was calm, almost bored, despite the dried blood on his gauntlets.

"How do you know?" Connor asked.

Sean didn’t look at him.

"I got the skill just now," he said. His voice came out low, rough, almost like a growl.

Connor raised an eyebrow slightly, then nodded as realization clicked.

"From the woman you killed a minute ago?"

"Yes."

Sean finally nodded.

"Connor," he continued, eyes narrowing. "We have to kill this guy first. If we’re the ones who take down the Apex, the reward will be insane."

Connor’s lips curled into a thin smile.

"Of course," he said. "That’s obvious."

The two of them stood there for a moment, radiating quiet menace.

Their armor was crude but effective. It was made of monster hide stitched together with reinforced plates, materials that clearly did not belong to the old world.

Some pieces were rewards from monsters and humans they had killed themselves. Others had been bought from the vending machines that appeared after certain scenarios. Scratched, scarred, and layered with practical modifications, their gear was built purely for survival and killing.

Connor was Level 50. Sean was Level 55.

Neither of them felt even the slightest remorse for killing people anymore.

That part of them had died early.

When the world collapsed and survival became brutal and absolute, hesitation was a weakness. They had learned that fast. Faster than most. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

As former special operations soldiers, killing was not new to them. Decision-making under pressure, ignoring fear, and treating targets as objectives. All of it carried over seamlessly into the scenarios.

That was why they were still alive.

And now, after tasting the luxury of strength, they wanted more.

Sean clenched his fist slowly.

The skill had appeared the moment the woman died screaming beneath his blade. It was called [Apex Mark Detection].

It allowed him to perceive the direction and presence of the Apex within a certain range. Not a precise location, but enough to hunt.

"We have to move faster than the others," Sean said.

He stepped forward immediately.

Connor followed without hesitation.

"You think others got the same kind of skill?" Connor asked as they moved.

Sean let out a short breath through his nose.

"Of course," he replied. "If I got it, others definitely did too."

That only made it more exciting.

They increased their pace, boots crunching over debris. Their route wasn’t random. They deliberately headed toward areas that looked like former safe zones from previous scenarios which were places where survivors would naturally still gather or rest. Places where the Apex might still linger.

—

On the other side of the city, another group of four people was already moving as well.

They didn’t speak much as they advanced through the ruins, spreading out slightly but never breaking formation. Their movements were efficient, practiced, and ruthless.

They had survived this long for the same reason as Sean and Connor.

They killed without hesitation.

At first, they had struggled with it. The first human deaths weighed on them. The second still felt wrong. By the third, it became necessary. And after that, strength followed. Their levels rose, skills obtained, power rewarded violence far more reliably than mercy ever did.

That realization crushed their hesitation quickly. They told themselves there was no other choice. They told themselves it was survival. And soon enough, they stopped needing excuses.

The group consisted of two men and two women.

One of the men was tall and gaunt, his face permanently set in a sharp scowl. He wielded a long spear forged from blackened metal, its tip etched with glowing runes. His eyes were cold, calculating, always watching angles and distances.

The second man was shorter but heavily built, carrying a massive shield strapped to his arm and a cleaver-like weapon in his other hand. His armor was layered thickly, dented and stained, clearly tested in countless fights.

He walked at the front, unafraid of taking hits.

Behind them moved the two women.

One wore light armor, flexible and tight to her body. Her blades hidden along her thighs and arms. Her movements were quiet and precise. Her eyes were constantly moving. She was like a predator built for speed and killing from blind spots.

The last woman carried a staff carved from bone and crystal. Her eyes glowed faintly as magic power rippled around her fingers. The air bent subtly around her, warping with restrained power. She was the one who decided when someone died instantly and when they suffered with her casting ability.

All four of them bore the same hunger in their eyes.

The spear-wilder also had the skill [Apex Mark Detection].

"The Apex is nearby," the spear-wielder said quietly.

"Good," the shield-bearer replied with a grin. "Let’s take it."

Without slowing down, the group changed direction slightly.

Just like Sean and Connor and many others. All of them were moving toward the same point.

—

Clyde and Mina had already gone into hiding. They took shelter inside the hollow remains of a collapsed office building, slipping through a fractured wall and into a space where the ceiling had caved in just enough to form a natural cover.

Broken concrete slabs leaned together, blocking most lines of sight from the outside.

Clyde felt it immediately. That sensation again. A faint pressure crawled along his spine. Not magic power or killing intent exactly, but something close. It was attention and directional to him. Like unseen eyes slowly turning toward him.

He was being hunted. The feeling was unpleasant, but it didn’t shake him. Not even a little.

In his previous life, he had hidden from beings far worse than this like the Gods, Archangels, and Demon Kings who hunted souls across dimensions.

He had survived by disappearing and hiding. And when the time came, he hunted them back.

Compared to that, trouble from humans barely registered as a threat. More like annoying feelings. But nothing that could break his composure.

Mina, however, was different. She could feel it too, even if she didn’t fully understand what it was, because she was standing next to Clyde.

Her breathing was shallow. Her shoulders stayed tense as she pressed herself closer to the cracked wall, eyes flicking toward every sound outside.

Clyde glanced at her.

"Get ready," he said quietly. "We might have to fight at any moment."

Mina swallowed hard.

She reached down and tightened her grip around her daggers, the leather of the handles creaking slightly under the pressure. Her knuckles went pale, but her hands didn’t shake.

"Okay," she whispered.

They stayed still. The ruined city around them felt heavier with each passing second. Every distant collapse, scrape of rubble, and echoing footsteps made the air tighten further.

Trouble was coming. They both knew it. Mina swallowed again.

—