It hadn’t taken long for Kobe to devise a plan. Not because he knew what to do but because he saw so few options. If this pit he was falling into really was as deep as he had fallen, then he was already dead, there was no way back up to the top and he had hit terminal velocity hours ago.

There had to be more to it, at this depth he should be getting close to the mantle but things were still a bit chilly. He regretted that he had lost all of his clothes in the battle with Robert but they had been a necessary sacrifice.

Regardless, he saw only one course of action. Even if there was no bottom, there had to be an edge. He figured it wouldn’t be in the college’s interests to make a challenge that no one could overcome and he thought that this had to be the college’s doing and not Robert’s because he was already well on his way to being digested.

Kobe had studied a few posthumous vore styles but he didn’t think this was one of them.

His plan was as follows: he was going to climb his way back to the top. He had shaved Robert’s femur bones into sharp ends with his teeth, he planned on using them like picks. He had fashioned a number of other bones into hooks that he hoped could stop his descent before they snapped.

He wrapped the femurs around his arm using his belt, bundled as many of the other bones he could carry against his chest and then redirected his falling body slightly to the left. He didn’t want to slam into the edge and get knocked unconscious. He held the skull outwards with his left hand so that it would hit anything before his skin.

After a number of minutes falling, Kobe was met with the sound of bone on padding. It was a lucky break for Kobe that this shaft was made out of the same stuff the rest of the jungle gym was. If this was a metal shaft, the bones would snap the moment he tried to jam them in.

Kobe ditched the skull and took one of his bones from the pile, jamming it into the padded wall, tearing the fabric but definitely slowing him down. The bone snapped in two and he instantly switched onto the next one. 7 bones deep and he had come to a complete stop. The muscles in his arms were about to give out, he was sure he’d torn something different in each of them.

But he couldn’t let pain stop him now, he hadn’t walked from Kiev to Vladivostok, barefoot, with a bag of bricks nailed to his back, to be stopped by a dislocated shoulder or two. He took out the first femur with his right and jammed it into the wall. He dropped the bone in his left and then did the same with the remaining femur.

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He started to pull himself up, jamming one femur in over the other, making a rapid ascent.

He kept pulling himself up further and further. His arms kept trying to give out on him, he had pushed them beyond their limits time and time again and he wasn’t going to stop doing that. After what seemed like an eternity, he saw the faintest glimpse of light above him. As he kept climbing it got brighter. That was the room he’d fallen from all those hours ago.

“Come on! Come on!”

He swung his arms relentlessly. As he got to the edge, he wondered if he’d have enough strength to pull himself over it. He grabbed it with both hands but the fingers on his left wouldn’t obey him.

“No fucking way! I refuse to die now!”

He swung his body around and managed to get his left leg over the edge and with one last push, he hauled himself back into the room where he’d defeated Robert and collapsed onto the floor.

“Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Agck!”

He coughed up blood and lay there panting, unable to move a muscle. But he was alive, he’d won and he hadn’t even used a signature move.

“You see that God?! Suck my dick! You ain’t getting rid of a Steakhouse that easily!”

Suddenly the speakers flared to life and Vorezingis’ voice roared across the whole Jungle Gym.

“Wakey, wakey boys, it’s day 3!”

***

When Vorelando heard the announcement for day 3 his will was dampened slightly. He had now been sitting on this island for over 3 days at this stage. He was hungry and thirsty. He was dying for a shower, a bed to sleep on and a serious wank but he had to stay ever vigilant.

Vorezingis said that there were only 20 people left alive, there was something extremely sad to Vorelando that, out of the over one hundred people to have died in the last 3 days, nearly half of them had gone out by walking into a pit of acid.

Even though there were only 20 left, Vorelando wasn’t thinking that this would be over soon. The number of deaths was decreasing every day, only the skilled or lucky were left at this stage. It wasn’t inconceivable that there would be days without any deaths. If no one came around by tomorrow, he was going to have to take urgent action. He could already feel the lack of water affecting his body and mind.

Several times he thought he had seen Benedict fulfil his promise and step out of the balls in a blaze of glory. Each time though, it had proved to be a hallucination.

“Maybe I should just give up…”

He was on the verge of breaking. He had never wanted to get into vore anyway, his goals for doing so were unachievable, he had done it on a whim. If he was going to die because of some pussy ass dehydration, how could he hope to enact justice on Voran Magic, on his father?

“It’s impossible…”

“NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE, VORELANDO JONES!”

A voice rang around the ball pit. It was Benedict’s but the glistening god was nowhere to be seen.

“GET UP ON YOUR FEET, VORELANDO JONES, YOUR WORK HERE IS NOT DONE!”

An invisible force lifted him off his back and into a standing position. Suddenly he was filled with a renewed energy.

“VORELANDO JONES, WE WRITE OUR OWN ENDINGS, MINE HAS COME TO PASS BUT YOURS IS MUCH FURTHER IN THE FUTURE. NOW FIGHT, SCREAM, BELIEVE!”

“Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Vorelando beat his chest violently as he let out a primal roar.