"Why should I do this? How do I know this isn't fake? Or, worse, poison?"
I knew this was coming. Men like Marcel, who had climbed to the top of a food chain as brutal as this tower's, were not easily convinced. But I was ready.
I crossed my arms, keeping my gaze locked onto his. "You have doubts? Run any test you want. I'm not here to waste your time, much less mine. If you want to verify its authenticity, go ahead. I stand by my product."
For a moment, he remained silent, the cigar in his mouth burning slowly as he studied me. Marcel wasn't like the reckless young men I had dealt with before. He was an old man, someone who had clearly failed to pass the bottleneck to become a mage, but above all else, he was cautious. Even with all his experience, curiosity seemed to gnaw at his reservations. Finally, he removed the cigar from his mouth and covered one of his hands with a magical blue aura, channeling his energy as he lightly touched the powder on the table.
