Limitless Summoner: Rise of the Soul God

Ethan's stomach grumbled in protest, and he fought the urge to glare at the old woman. She turned on her heel and shuffled up the stairs without another word, the door creaking shut behind her. The faint echo of her cackling laugh lingered long after she was gone.

"Crazy old witch." He grumbled as he looked at the cauldron bubbling ominously before him.

He moved to the shelf, finding the box of glass bottles neatly packed with stoppers and labels. At least they were clean. He carefully placed the box on the table beside the cauldron and hesitated. The liquid inside the cauldron didn't look like something that should be bottled. It looked more like it should be buried deep in the ground and never seen again.

He glanced back at the door, half-expecting the old woman to reappear with another snide remark, but it remained shut. Ethan let out a long breath and rolled up his sleeves. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

He took one of the bottles and a ladle from the hook beside the cauldron and then started his work. Dipping the ladle into the inky liquid, he was surprised to feel the resistance, as if the potion was fighting against him. It clung to the ladle, swirling and writhing before finally settling.

Ethan's skin prickled, and he hurried to pour the contents into the bottle. The liquid slid down the glass, coating the inside before pooling at the bottom.

The moment the bottle was filled, the inky substance pulsed, emitting a faint glow. Ethan's heart skipped a beat. "What the hell is this stuff?"

He quickly stoppered the bottle and placed it on the table, watching it warily. The liquid continued to swirl, but it stayed inside the glass, showing no signs of escaping. Ethan let out a relieved sigh and reached for the next bottle.

The process was slow and nerve-wracking, but he continued, filling each bottle with the dark liquid while keeping a cautious eye on the cauldron. It never stopped bubbling, the surface rippling with waves of darkness. Every time he dipped the ladle in, it felt like the potion was trying to pull him in.

Ethan gritted his teeth, his fingers aching as he filled the last bottle. "Finally." He sealed the last one and placed it in the box with the others. The filled bottles shimmered faintly, the dark liquid swirling inside like living shadows.

He took a step back, his muscles protesting. "Done. Now to clean this damn thing."

Ethan grabbed a brush and a bucket of murky water. As soon as he dipped the brush into the water, the liquid hissed, steam rising from the surface. Ethan's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me?"

He plunged the brush into the cauldron, scrubbing furiously. The sludge clung to the metal, refusing to come off easily. It was sticky, stubborn, and reeked of rotten herbs and something metallic. Ethan's nose wrinkled as the stench filled the room.

He scrubbed harder, his arms burning with the effort. "This… is… impossible!"

The cauldron seemed to mock him, the dark residue clinging to every crevice. Ethan growled in frustration, his shoulders straining as he attacked the sludge with renewed vigor. "You… stupid… cauldron!"

After what felt like an eternity, the residue finally began to loosen. Ethan's fingers were numb, and his back ached, but he didn't stop until the cauldron gleamed, its surface smooth and spotless. He wiped his brow, sweat trickling down his face. "Done. Finally."@@novelbin@@

He collapsed against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His limbs felt like jelly, and his vision swam. "That… was torture."

The door creaked open, and the old woman's voice echoed down the stairs. "Finished, are you?"

Ethan jolted, his exhaustion forgotten as he scrambled to his feet. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

The old woman's eyes scanned the room, her sharp gaze lingering on the cauldron. She ran a bony finger over the rim, inspecting it for any missed spots. When she found none, she gave a curt nod. "Adequate. But I expect faster next time."

Ethan bit back a groan. "Yes, ma'am."

Her beady eyes narrowed. "The shelves?"

Ethan's heart sank. He'd forgotten about those. "I… I was just about to start."

The woman's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Better hurry. The sun's already risen."

Ethan's stomach growled, reminding him of her earlier threat. He was starving. "Understood."

The old woman turned and hobbled back up the stairs, her cane clacking against the wooden steps. "You've got thirty minutes. If you're late, no breakfast."

Ethan's blood ran cold. Thirty minutes? That was impossible! The shelves were a mess, jars scattered haphazardly, powders and herbs mixed together without any order. He clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. "You're kidding me…"

But he didn't have time to complain. He rushed to the shelves, his hands moving frantically as he started organizing the jars.

He separated the herbs by type, arranging them by potency and origin just as she had ordered. Each jar was labeled in scrawling, faded handwriting, and some of them were smudged, making it difficult to read.

Ethan's fingers flew over the glass, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the chaotic system.

The breakfast was important but he also did not want to be thrown out so quickly. The crazy old witch seemed like she lived alone and she probably would come last in the suspicious list. This was a good place for them to lay low for the time being.

If only the damn woman was less batty.

He let out a sigh and finished work as fast as possible. Just as he was done, the door creaked open again as if the crazy lady had been waiting right outside all this time. At this point, he wouldn't put it past her.

"I am done, Miss…" Ethan realized he didn't know the name of the crazy.

"That would be Miss Agnes for you." The old woman's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as she hobbled closer, her crooked cane tapping against the stone floor.