>>684
The cube is now called Stove Stove.
You scrape at the earth at your feet with your bare hands. The ground is hard, dry and unyielding. It is so dark you can barely even see what you're doing, anyway. You acquire nothing but disappointment and dirty fingernails.
>>685
You look up to where the ceiling ought to be. Instead, there is only an array of cold, distant points of light, feebly trying to reject their fate; radiating their very being outwards into the infinite, empty void of space, to which they will inevitably succumb in a mere few billion years. Your view of the beautiful, horrifying, vertiginous starscape is, however, obstructed by a girl in a frilly pink dress, hovering several metres above your head. She is holding Mecha Alexei Fujiwara upside down by the ankle. From your vantage point you can see up her skirt into a tantalisingly dangerous briar of petticoats.
>>686
You employ the training you gained by imitating a certain non-fluid legless reptile on the way here, and duck under the cover of the nearby trees, while whispering to Continue-chan to provide you with cover. As you run, close to the ground, through the undergrowth, whipped in the face by the trees' thorny appendages, you hear the unmistakeable sound of laser fire from behind you. Eventually, thirty metres down the path, you break cover and combat roll to the foot of a mound of forks. The girl in pink does not seem to have followed you.
There are hundreds of them, piled unceremoniously by the pathside. They are almost all silver, mostly plain but some of them quite ornate, embossed with floral patterns or with ends whipped into spiralling shapes. You stuff as many as you can - twelve - into your pockets. You are now carrying a cleaning rag, a lock of Continue-chan's hair, a bloodstained knife (in your left hand), a ceremonial stone knife (in your right hand), and twelve assorted silver forks.
From back where you left your companions, you see flashes of laser fire, a dark shape darting back and forth above the forest canopy, and, beneath it, faint flashes and gleams of something you can't recognise.
>>687
You cannot find Stove Stove.