Casimir raised himself from the floor with difficulty.

He had a hard time parsing what was happening. First, Vera attacked him with speed and strength that was simply unbelievable.

He didn’t have a faintest idea how she produced the dagger. A hidden holster in her sleeve maybe? He looked around but the weapon seemed to have vanished just as abruptly as it appeared. The only proof that he didn’t imagine the whole thing were the red marks on his throat.

He touched his neck and looked at the bloody imprint on his hand. And the red stains on the collar of his shirt.

The sight made him feel lightheaded, but Casimir bit hard on his tongue to stay awake. He couldn’t lose consciousness now.

Not that it seemed to matter to anyone else present. Despite being the main actor in this play - it was his hallucination after all - everyone seemed to have forgotten about Casimir’s existence.

In fact, he wasn’t exactly sure if it really was a hallucination.

Obviously, what was happening simply wasn’t possible.

Talking chinchillas, chosen ones, magical towers. It was clearly a product of a disturbed mind.

But it all seemed so real.

That was of course further proof that his illness was progressing - and at an alarming rate at that. What was it? Twenty minutes since he first saw Danton? And in that time his disturbed mind had managed to pull even real people into the fantasy.

The only issue gnawing at his mind was that he felt oddly left out. He was always under the impression that these types of paranoias and manias were extremely egocentric in nature. It made sense too. If you were to go mental you wouldn’t imagine that your neighbour was Bonaparte - YOU were Bonaparte. Unless your Bonaparte neighbor was scheming to kidnap you to take revenge for Waterloo, but it came down to the same thing. You remained the central part of the story.

Whereas here, Casimir felt something of a third wheel. Danton was speaking in two different voices and Vera apparently tried to kill him for some reason, but for all the attention they were sparing him, Casimir could probably leave the apartment through the still open door and neither of them would even notice.

The idea held a certain appeal in fact.

Should I simply leave? The idea of walking out on his own delusion seemed bizarre but somehow he felt that it was possible. There was nothing holding him here, he could walk through the door into the corridor and everything would be left behind. It didn’t matter if it was real or fake, he’d just leave.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Balancing his body against the wall, Casimir started inching towards the doorway. He was almost outside. But then he heard Danton’s voice.

“Execution.”

Casimir turned around. He saw Vera’s back. She was trembling and struggling to move, but it was as if she was glued to the floor. And further back, still standing on his desk, he saw Danton.

The talking chinchilla he had treated to a cup of coffee transformed into what looked like a specter of death. Its eyes were pitch black. The toothy grin that radiated smugness looked like teeth of a ferocious beast One of its paws was raised and there was a frightening ball of light levitating above it.

Danton raised his hand up and then abruptly sent the ball flying towards Vera.

“No!” Casimir shouted and rushed towards her.

He crushed into Vera at the same time as the ball reached her. A wave of scorching heat assaulted his body, but it was immediately extinguished as a protective layer covered his body.

The two of them crashed to the ground. The fetid stench of burnt hair assaulted Casimir's nostrils. It seemed he tanked the ball of fire with his own face. But checking his own injuries came next.

“Vera! Are you alright?” Casimir asked anxiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening. I think I have gone insane, if you can move you need to immediately run and call the police. I’m sorry if I have attacked you, I don’t know what’s real and fake anymore.”

Vera didn’t answer. She just stared back at him with a blank look, completely different than the usual smile he remembered.

“Savior…” Danton said weakly. “We need to kill her. Now that she knows your identity she’s bound to come after you if we let her go. And her level is too high for you.”

“No!” Casimir shouted. He turned towards Danton. “I forbid you to kill! I’ll do anything you want, but you can’t kill!”

“As you wish... savior.” Danton replied resignedly. There was little of the fierceness he displayed before. In fact his voice was weak and wavering.

“Earth’s Chosen #1,878, Veronica Cointreau...” Danton started saying in the booming mechanical voice. “Your infractions don’t merit an execution sentence. You are free to go. Be aware that even a light infraction will now resume the execution sentence.”

Vera pushed Casimir off her and picked herself off the floor. She briefly glanced at the singed corners of her jacket and fixed up her hair.

Her face was still pale but there was a trace smile on her face. She looked at Danton who appeared to be completely exhausted and sat listlessly on the desk.

“So this is the promised savior that will deliver your people from servitude?” she asked.

“You are interfering with operations of an officer of the Tower. I recommend you leave before you receive another infraction.” Danton answered her in a tired voice.

“You know… I don’t actually have a sponsor yet.” Vera said meaningfully. “And it won’t take me long to finish clearing the eighth floor.”

Danton gazed back at her without saying anything.

“I’m pretty much certain to pass the tenth floor, isn’t that the breaking point for you guys? How about instead of wasting your time on some trash bound to perish the moment he enters the Tower, you invest in me instead?”

Danton stood up. His eyes were no longer black like before, but they hid a different type of power.

“Our savior isn’t destined to climb the tenth or the twentieth floor of the Tower.”

“He will climb to the top and conquer it.”