Wrong Name 03.

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*** Chapter 01***

His body moved with single-minded focus. It wasn't that he was particularly pain-tolerant. Dion tended to do all that he could to avoid pain whenever he could. Despite this tendency in him, he was currently missing a tooth, and his mouth was still full of the iron taste of blood. His tongue was swollen within his mouth, enough so that he could barely articulate anything. His right eye was swollen shut and the left one was barely open. His upper lip was swollen which further worsened his ability to speak. His face was a perfect representation of how the rest of his body looked. The only thing that allowed Dion to keep drawing the strange patterns on the floor of his bedroom, was the pure and undiluted hatred that he felt.

He hated his parents.

Dion hadn't been born in District thirteen. He was born in district ten. Their family hadn't been wealthy in any real sense of the word. They did, however, have enough to get by. A few months after Dion turned ten, however, his mother became a cocaine addict. Less than a year later, his father picked alcohol as his poison of choice. Their family's stability and finances went down the drain after that. At first, they moved down to district twelve, but even that proved to be too much for two druggies to maintain and so they ended up in district thirteen

He hated his sister.

Nadia had always been a sweet and gentle soul. Always caring towards him. She had been dealt just as shitty a hand as he'd had and in some ways worse. She had just turned eighteen by the time they moved to district thirteen. And with two parents in name only, it fell to her to take care of the family. But this was district thirteen, it wasn't exactly teeming with jobs and opportunities for self-improvement. As the saying goes in this district, it's easier to go from ten to one than from thirteen to twelve. In the end, Nadia had found herself in the world's oldest profession.

In the beginning, she bore it with a smile. She was, after all, doing it for her dear little brother. Besides, she still had her youth and looks. Dion had long since concluded that she had been secretly hoping that some prince charming would eventually come along and save her. But as the years passed by and her profession took its toll both on her looks and soul, her dream became more and more distant until finally, it was no longer in sight.

It finally sunk in that this was it, this was all she would ever be or amount to. She was broken and bitter. But her two parents were almost always either too drunk or too high to give a damn about her to make good targets for the pain and misery she felt. And so she took it all out on the only member of her family sober enough to understand just how much she hated them all for what she believed they had done to her.

He hated his church and his priest.

He hated them because of how they always lied that God was in control and that he would make things better in the end. It was obvious to anyone who even had two brain cells to rub together that God had either forgotten him or simply didn't care what happened to him.

He hated the teachers at his school who didn't care whether he passed or failed any of the tests they gave. Who didn't give a rat's ass about the future of any of their students. And worse still, they turned a blind eye to all the bullying and mistreatment that the weaker kids got from the stronger students.

He hated his bullies.

For whatever reason, as soon as it got out that he had once lived in district ten, he had become a prime target for many of the bullies at his school. Never mind the fact that his family was currently in a worse state than most of the ones that bullied him. It was almost like they were trying to make him pay for the fact of where he was born. As if he had any control over where he was born. And all this despite the fact that most of them dreamed about moving up in life and leaving district thirteen behind.

But more than everyone else combined, Dion hated himself.

He hated himself because, despite their negligence, Dion still found himself hoping that one day his parents would change. Despite knowing that they never would, he still dreamed, hoped and prayed, that one day, things would go back to how they used to be.

He hated himself because despite how badly she treated him, he still wanted his sister to be proud of him. She would scorn, mock and ridicule every effort that Jack made whether it be in academics or his personal life. She had not said a single kind word to him in the last three years, and yet, he still tried.

He hated himself because despite knowing that they were lies meant to placate him and keep him hoping for a better tomorrow that would never come, he still went to church every Sunday to pray and listen to his priest go on and on about being patient, and longsuffering and all that other nonsense.

He hated himself because, despite knowing that his teachers didn't give a damn either way, he still tried hard at school. He did his assignments on time. Only for them to never get checked. He aced his tests, only to get the grade and nothing else. No acknowledgment or recognition of any kind from either his teachers or his sister. To say nothing of the parents that were usually either too drunk or too high to remember that he was still alive.

He hated himself because no matter how much he tried to stand up for himself, he still ended up beaten black and blue. At first, he had tried to befriend his bullies, but when that didn't work, he had chosen to fight back. The result had been the same either way.

He hated himself, in this moment, because, despite having given up asking for help from God, he hadn't chosen to just rely on himself. Instead, he'd just turned to the other side. He was now begging for help from demons.

It was now a month after Dion had met and interacted with the strange guy whom he later found out was called Rick. After being bullied for so long, Dion had learned to be aware of whatever space he was in and just who was around him. As such, even though he'd been surrounded by Keith and his buddies, he'd almost immediately become aware of Rick the moment he stepped into the alley.

At first, some small part of him had been hoping that Rick had walked into the alley intending to help him. When he was knocked to the ground, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Rick leaning against the side of the alley to watch his beating, his heart had sunk as the world once again reminded him that he was on his own. Even as Keith and his gang walked away, Dion had glanced at Rick, and in it, he hadn't seen the slightest bit of concern. He was in the alley because he wanted something, after he got it, there was no doubt that he'd forget he even existed.

As such, Dion had been unsure what to think when he'd asked what had happened. Part of him thought that Rick was mocking him. Another part of him, however, was sure he was up to something. He didn't stop to watch him being beaten just for the sake of it. Dion couldn't help but want to find out why. And so rather than humoring his fake concern, he cut through the BS and made it known that he had seen Rick watching him get beaten. Much to Dion's relief, Rick didn't insist on the pretense. Instead, he asked the question that had led Dion to today.

"Do you want to be stronger?" Rick had asked.

At this point, several things went through Dion's head ranging from normal to ridiculous. He had studied Rick trying to decide what his game was. He wasn't buff, so he couldn't have been a bodybuilder. Maybe he was secretly a spy or some shit, perhaps he'd seen some potential in him and wanted to recruit him like in the movies? Or perhaps he was secretly some martial arts master and wanted to train him in his style. Dion's mind had entertained a few other conjectures before settling on giving a direct answer in the affirmative. Strangers didn't just walk up to you and ask you if you wanted to be stronger if they didn't have a way of helping you achieve that strength.

Dion wasn't naïve. The man before him didn't care about him in the least. He had just stood there and watched him getting the living daylights beaten out of him and hadn't moved a finger to help him. He did, however, truly want to become stronger, and so he was willing to take whatever help he could get.

Of all, the options that had gone through Dion's head, demons hadn't even been on the list. His first thought had been to dismiss Rick as some nut with a screw loose in the head. He, however, had been too hurt to move around at the time, and so he'd listened to him tell him about some demon-worshipping coven that could give him powerful abilities if he joined. But while Dion had initially been skeptical, the longer he'd listened to Rick, the more he'd gotten the strong impression that this wasn't someone making stuff up on the fly. Whatever it was he was saying, he, at the very least, believed it to be true.

Dion had never had any intention of joining whatever could Rick was trying to get him to join. The strange guy, however, had piqued enough of Dion's interest to get him to ask as many questions as he possibly could on the subject of the occult. To many of the questions, Rick could only admit not knowing the answer. To his credit, however, Rick turned out to have an honest streak to him. He also, mustn't have had many friends as he seemed quite happy to answer whatever questions Dion had when he seemed interested in what he had to say. Perhaps he thought that Dion's curiosity was a sign that he was winning him over. Dion wasn't sure.

He, however, didn't clam up when Dion didn't agree to join his cult, coven, or whatever. If anything, Rick seemed to get more desperate in the following days. And the more desperate he got, it seemed, the more talkative he became. By the fourth day, Dion had started to fear that he'd gotten a stalker as Rick would try and find him whenever he left home to go to school or school to go home. Any time Dion was out and about, Rick seemed to be somewhere close by. By the sixth day, Dion was starting to get scared that Rick would do something to coerce him if he didn't acquiesce to his repeated attempts to get him to join his cult. After the seventh day, however, Dion had never heard from Rick again.

Strange as he was, however, the man had kindled a new curiosity in Dion. And so, for the past three weeks, Dion had been walking to the library at the edge of District twelve to get as much information as he possibly could on the subject of demons. Given his ignorance on the subject, Dion couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. He, however, was almost certain that ninety percent of the information he found was bullshit. Despite this, his interest didn't wane. Some deep instinct was telling him that he was onto something and wouldn't allow him to let go.

Three days ago, he'd come across a black leather-bound book in the section of the library he usually took books from. By then, Dion had grown pretty familiar with his section of the library and so he was almost certain that the book hadn't been there before. Someone had left it there. That much was certain. Whether it was for him or someone else, Dion didn't know. The one thing he did know, was that, soon as he caught hold of the book, Dion had been certain that he'd caught hold of a genuine article.

Before finding the book, Dion hadn't even known that there were tiers to demons. The book spoke of seven levels to the demons. Starting from a single king of hell, more popularly known as the devil. Below him, were the seven princes of hell, each representing the seven deadly sins. Under the princes, were demon lords who numbered in the thousands. Under the demon lords were principalities, followed by thrones, followed by powers. At the bottom of the demon power ranks, were the imps, who, apparently, numbered in the tens of billions. More than even the human population.

The middle of the book dealt with the different kinds of soul contracts that can be made between humans and demons. There were servant soul contracts in which one became a servant to the demon they summoned until their natural deaths. There was the slave contract that was much more stringent than the servant contract. In this one, everything about the summoner, from the way they live to even their death is left at the demon's discretion. But in exchange, they got to ask a major request of the demon to whom they pledged their lives. The last and most dangerous of the contracts was the kind that required human sacrifice.

This last kind was the only way to summon any demon from the principality level or higher. If successful, then one would have a very powerful demon in their corner. There was even speculation in the book that those who succeeded in summoning such powerful beings could obtain superhuman abilities. The conditions on most of the summoning styles, however, made it almost impossible for one person to summon a powerful demon. The strongest demon that a single individual could hope to summon on their own was one at the thrones level of power. Even outside the fact of the sacrifice needed for the high-tier summons, it is very draining of one's soul energy to summon the stronger demons. And if one fully expended their soul energy, the best they could hope to become is a vegetable.

The book also spoke of monsters of various kinds that can result from either a failed summoning or dabbling in the dark arts or being made by willing participants in the process. Dion didn't pay much attention to this section. He wasn't interested in creating monsters. There were already too many of those around, to begin with. Instead, his attention and interest were caught by something else. Towards the end of the book, there had been a description of a summoning ritual of a demon at the Powers level of the demon hierarchy called Lisia. That is what he'd been studying for the past two days.

But while Dion had developed a new interest, the rest of his life continued the same as always. Keith and his gang had continued to hound Dion and he had continued to try and fail to stand up for himself. For reasons that Dion couldn't understand, Keith and his gang became even more brutal the more that Dion stood up for himself. It was almost as if they resented him for the fact that Dion wasn't willing to give in and accept their torment. Something that, for the life of him, Dion couldn't understand. They could just as easily leave him be and he would never mess with them, and yet they chose to make his life miserable for no reason whatsoever. And then somehow, in their twisted minds, they would get even angrier at him that he wouldn't just lie there and take it.

Despite his unwillingness to be their punching bag, there was a vast chasm between having spirit and actually winning fights. Dion was in the worst state he'd ever been from a fight. Part of him had feared that he would be beaten to death. And with the rampant crime in district thirteen, chances were that his murder wouldn't have even caused any ripples. No one would have cared. Not his druggie parents, not the whore of a sister who blamed him for everything that went wrong in her life. And most certainly not the society to whom he was already invisible.

Dion wasn't even sure what he was doing would work. He, however, was at the end of his rope. If this didn't work, then he'd have to start thinking about killing Keith and the rest before they got him. In fact, the only reason why he hadn't already started planning how he'd go about eliminating Keith and the rest was because he wanted to put to rest the nagging feeling that kept pushing him in this direction. Once this failed, as it most likely would, Dion had every intention of planning out the murder of Keith and the rest of his groupies.

But while hatred gave Dion the willpower to push through his pain it didn't heal his eyes one of which was already swollen shut and the other barely open. As such, Dion didn't notice the fact that in many specific points, his drawing was different from the one on the page of the book he was holding. His shaking hand also added to the variations in the elaborate patterns he'd drawn on the floor of his room. His hatred also didn't fix the fact of his missing tooth, his split lip, and the swollen tongue that left him barely able to string two words together. The resulting distortion to his speech left him calling out the name of the demon Lisia with a 'th' sound instead of the 's' that should have been at the middle of the statement.

***

Lythia had expected to emerge in some temple erected in her honor. She was a demon Lord after all. Her position in the demon hierarchy made it so that she couldn't be summoned without a human sacrifice and the combined soul energy of several humans well versed in the occult. Only a sizable coven with sufficient resources at its command would dare to try to summon a demon Lord, not to mention, going up against the wishes of a prince of hell by summoning his enemy.

As such, Lythia found herself experiencing a hefty amount of confusion when she found herself standing in Dion's bedroom looking at a badly beaten teen who was lying on the floor looking like he was barely clinging to life. Any experienced summoner would have known not to stand anywhere near the summoning circle. The circle itself was what protected the summoner while he was still negotiating the contract with the demon. If negotiations failed, then the circle was what would allow the summoner to send the demon back to hell safely.

Looking at the way the boy lay on the floor, only his head was outside of the circle which clearly relayed that he had been standing in the summoning circle when he called out to her. Lythia dropped down on one knee and wrapping her hand around the boy's ankle, she pulled him fully into the summoning circle before allowing her powers to invade his mind. For a demon of her age, going through the memories of a teen like the one before her took barely a second. In an instant, Dion's life was laid out for the demon to review. An ugly expression crossed Lythia's face as she looked around at the shoddy summoning circle all around them. "A mistaken summon," she whispered as her mind figured out how exactly the boy had ended up in the state he was in.

Half a million years ago, when she had been at the height of her power, she would have tortured the boy before killing him for subjecting her to the humiliation of calling her through a mistaken summon. And much worse, a summon meant for a demon at the Powers level! The boy would have been lucky if she stopped tormenting his soul in hell after a thousand years. What Dion had accidentally done was the equivalent of spitting in her face, and calling her barely any better than an imp. This was why summoning high-level demons was dangerous business, whole covens had been wiped from the earth for making small mistakes in the summoning process. What Dion had done by accident would have gotten any coven wiped out. It just so happened that Lythia herself was in a very precarious position. Having a prince of hell as your enemy when you are a demon lord was no small matter. If she didn't do anything about it, sooner rather than later, she would end up at his mercy.

The boy had been aiming to summon a demon at the Powers level which wouldn't have drawn a dangerous amount of his soul energy. He, however, had singlehandedly summoned a demon at the Demon lord level using his soul energy alone. A feat that should have been impossible and had left him with barely any soul energy to speak of. If Lythia left him as he was, the boy would most likely die in a few minutes. If that happened, Lythia would be sent back to her castle in the fifth circle of hell where she would probably never be summoned again. It was a fate that she had no intention of accepting, as such she was forced to do something no demon ever would. Placing her hand over where the boy's heart was, Lythia poured some of her own soul energy into the boy...