Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1244: The Seventieth Step

“Let’s go…! Let’s try it!” The entire group thrummed with eager excitement.

Ethan raised his hand, halting them in their tracks.

Since each one had just a single chance, they absolutely had to nail this.

He triggered True Sight, scanning the whole Celestial Stairway with precision. The ritual circle's position and operation stayed hidden from view…

…yet something stood out to him.

A subtle grin pulled at the corners of Ethan’s lips.

“Wait a moment, then follow my exact footsteps,” he instructed, his voice growing grave. “Step precisely where I step. No deviations.”

“Understood!” they all replied in unison.

Ethan’s commanding tone left no room for debate.

Grace’s eyes grew wide. “Ethan… does that mean the Celestial Stairway hides a vulnerability?”

“Exactly,” Ethan replied casually, shrugging lightly. “Likely from years of wear. It’s endured too much—revealing distinct patterns.”

Chloe’s expression dropped. “Ugh… doesn’t that mean we got totally cheated?”

“Don’t put it that way.” Ethan laughed softly. “You discovered it first, gained the boost first. Plus, it accelerated your mysterious-energy absorption. You’ve reaped those rewards all along. That’s victory enough.”

“Ethan makes a good point,” Grace agreed, remarkably composed. “Stumbling upon such a treasure is incredible fortune. Learn to cherish what you have.”

“…Alright,” Chloe grumbled.

Ethan took the lead, placing his foot at the extreme left edge of the first step.

Instantly, the pressure intensified—denser than at the bottom, yet bearable.

Next, he moved one position rightward.

The pressure mounted further.

On the identical step, varying spots produced clearly uneven pressure.

Satisfaction gleamed in Ethan’s eyes.

It truly functioned as expected.

He withdrew his foot and ascended to the second step, selecting a point just right of the middle. Pressure surged once more.

As Grace had described, each higher step brought greater burden.

However, by targeting the lightest pressure zones on every step, the initial ascent remained fairly straightforward.

Upward he progressed, stair after stair.

Chris and the rest trailed closely, mirroring Ethan’s exact footprints without the slightest deviation.

In this manner, amid Grace’s jealous stare, the team advanced steadily.

Soon enough, Ethan arrived at step forty-two—Grace’s previous peak.

He pressed on without a break.

Relentlessly calm, he continued.

One by one, those following surpassed forty-two as well.

Grace’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Despite claiming indifference, seeing them breeze past her record still pricked at her.

Ethan’s team forged ahead.

Fifty.

Upon reaching step fifty, Ethan’s advance visibly hesitated. Pressure had entered truly challenging levels.

Yet it failed to halt him. He persisted—merely at a reduced pace.

The followers fared similarly poorly. Sweat glistened on their brows by step fifty.

And this followed Ethan’s optimal, least burdensome route. A standard climb likely wouldn’t have reached here.

Sixty.

Ethan halted at step sixty.

Clear sweat droplets cascaded from his brow. His features hardened, resolute—as if resisting an force intent on pulverizing him against the stone.

After roughly ten seconds of recovery, Ethan resumed—but each step now dragged agonizingly. Nearly every stair demanded over ten seconds of pause before he willed himself higher.

The group behind mirrored his struggle. Upon the 60th step, pressure spiked viciously. Motions grew leaden, akin to trudging through thick mud.

The ascent worsened, prolonging their halts per step.

Seventy.

Ethan’s foot touched it, and his frame buckled.

The force sought to crumple him double.

Beyond mere body, it assaulted mind and soul. A piercing ache throbbed at his temples, vertigo nibbling his sight.

Ethan gritted his teeth, shaking off the haze to sharpen his focus.

After a short breather, he hauled himself to the next step.

Exceeding two minutes on any step marked your endpoint—energy infusion would commence as you were pushed off. Rest was allowed, but strictly capped at two minutes.

Ethan advanced.

Chris claimed second place on the 70th step—and upon landing, pressure hunched him over sharply.

He braced hands on knees, gasping deeply. Perspiration poured from his forehead, splattering the stone.

“You got this, Chris!” Henry and others shouted from lower steps, urging him forward.

Chris forced a ragged chuckle. “Easy now… This pressure won’t break me.”

Gradually, defiantly, he stood tall.

Then, without pause, he took another step.

Gradually, the rest attained the 70th step as well.

The moment they arrived, some were smashed flat to the ground. Blood trickled from the mouths of a few. Yet none of them gave up. All gritted their teeth and hauled themselves back to their feet.

The Fallen Star Squad hadn't reached this point relying only on Ethan's True Sight.

They had endured more desperate life-or-death struggles than any others.

With Henry present, they battled like madmen—no fear, no backing down, no regard for their own lives. Even facing foes more powerful than themselves, their mindset stayed unchanged:

Life and death? Who cares. If you want it, come and grab it.

Multiple times, they'd dragged themselves from combat hanging onto mere scraps of life.

Henry would mend them later, of course.

But agony was agony. True torment.

Sometimes their bodies lay in ruins, yet they pushed on, clenching jaws against the suffering.

No vast government reserves of heavy firearms for them. No option to amass legions of Enhanced and triumph through overwhelming numbers.

It was merely a small band—wielding bare fists, their own knives, scraping upward from a schoolyard to their current spot.

The power they wielded now?

Paid for with their very lives.

Such a brutal journey had forged unbreakable resolve in them.

Moreover—Tier didn't truly dictate success on the Celestial Stairway (higher Tier brought fiercer pressure), but raw physical durability did count. Under identical strain, the sturdier frame held out far longer.

In this aspect, the Fallen Star Squad held a huge edge.

They had honed their bodies via the Body Refinement Technique over ages. Ethan stood out—his bodily might operated on another level completely.

Below, Grace and her companions stared up with tense, worried faces.

Excitement gleamed in their eyes. Shock too. Near-total disbelief.

They knew full well the Celestial Stairway's savagery better than most. Ethan's crew discovered a “shortcut,” granted—but hitting the 70th step remained beyond what Grace could have dreamed.

Undeniable evidence: the Fallen Star Squad's prowess arose from no mere chance.

And they weren't alone in impressing.

Aurora and Vivian stunned just as much.

Those two possessed grit unlike ordinary folk. Past the tenth step, each motion screamed torment—yet pure tenacity dragged them all the way to seventy.

But as Aurora mounted the 70th…

Her frame shattered at last.

Immense pressure pinned her down completely. She strained to rise—failed. Not a fraction of an inch.

Military heritage and childhood drills marked her path, true—but Maxwell's shielding had spared her endless vicious survival clashes.

Reaching this height? Already astounding. Far beyond that.