**Moments later**
**Dmitry D’Volkanov**
Dmitry woke up, feeling overwhelming weakness, and barely managed to open his eyes—only to shut them again in terror. Around him was absolute chaos: scorched and crushed remains of the kidnappers littered the area, and the boy had no idea what had happened.
Several minutes passed, and in the distance, the sound of engines became unmistakable. Dmitry immediately jumped up, ignoring his weakness and fear, and scanned for an exit. Nearby, he noticed another boy struggling to get up, seemingly wanting to say something but unable to. The boy just opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to make a sound. Dmitry, in that sense, was no better.
Finally spotting a distant door in the dim warehouse, Dmitry headed for the exit, carefully avoiding stepping on… anything. Trying to distract himself, he searched his pockets for something useful, but of course, everything valuable had already been taken—or maybe not everything?
“What’s this?” Dmitry whispered silently, pulling out a strange little stone object covered in inscriptions.
For some reason, it seemed incredibly important, so he immediately put it back. Reading it now was impossible in the dark anyway.
Before he could reach the exit, the door burst open, and a blinding array of floodlights shone into the building.
“We’ve found them!” a deep, commanding voice bellowed. “They’re alive!”
Realizing he was now safe, Dmitry’s remaining strength left him, and with it, his consciousness.
**Eight Years Later**
*A prison cell somewhere deep underground*
**Dmitry D’Volkanov**
“…Thus, I summon you, oh Volcano!” Dmitry finished his chant in a monotonous, drawn-out tone, immediately succumbing to a fit of bloody coughing. In his hands was the same stone tablet he had long since memorized. It was one of the few possessions left to him after his kidnapping—dismissed as a worthless trinket by his captors. Fools!
On the floor, a summoning circle no larger than his palm was drawn, as per the instructions on the tablet. It fit perfectly within the center of a brick beneath the prisoner’s feet.
“Could I have made a mistake?” Dmitry muttered in despair, double-checking the tablet. The dim light in the cell made it almost impossible to read the inscriptions properly.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Looks like this is the end,” he whispered hopelessly, collapsing face-first onto the seal, too weak to even lift his head. And so he died, his blood seeping into the summoning circle, utterly convinced he had failed the ritual.
But no, Dmitry had done everything right. Within moments, the seal ignited, and a connection was established between him and Volcano!
---
*Meanwhile, at the same time, in the infinite nowhere*
**Volcano**
Every summoning—whether of demons or gods—comes with a fragment of the summoner’s memories. How else could it work? Imagine a human calling upon a demon, demanding power or retribution in exchange for their soul, but the demon has no clue what the human wants or whether their soul is even worth the effort.
What if someone asked to “punish corrupt cops,” and the demon had no idea what “cops” were? Is that some kind of food? Terms like that might only be decades old—fresh and unknown to a being who slumbers for centuries. That’s why, along with the energy needed for summoning, a fragment of the summoner’s memory is extracted as an advance.
So, when I saw the now older but familiar boy standing before me, I absorbed fragmented glimpses of the world beyond the stone cage where he had just died.
“Omae wa mou shindeiru,” I plucked a suitable response from his memories. In simple terms, it meant, “Fool, you are already dead.”
“Nani?!” the boy exclaimed, glancing around in search of the voice. Naive. In this realm, only our consciousnesses existed, and I was the only one who could perceive its form.
“I said you’re dead,” I clarified, graciously giving him an explanation. Surprisingly, he understood me.
“What?!” the failed summoner cried out in shock. “How?!”
“Blood loss, magical exhaustion, physical depletion,” I stated plainly. Even from here, I could tell his body was more like a slab of meat than a living human.
The boy paused, processing my words, then shouted again.
“Wait, stop!” he said, coughing before continuing. “Volcano, I summoned you! It *is* you, right? You saved me once before… if I understand correctly.”
“That’s true,” I acknowledged. “But back then, you were alive, and I was forcibly summoned. This time, it’s the opposite—an entirely different situation! And let’s be clear, I usually destroy, not save.”
“Uh…” The boy hesitated, unsure of what to say. “So, are you…?”
“First, tell me what year it is!” I interrupted. “You’ve grown. A lot.”
“That’s right,” Dmitry said somberly. His current state was a stark contrast to the boy I had once encountered. Even I could see how much he had changed—an emaciated skeleton of a young man in rags, far from the well-dressed youth he had been. “It’s the year 2050.”
“So it’s been…” I calculated. “Eight years? And where have you been all this time?”
“There wasn’t a reason before,” Dmitry admitted sheepishly, averting his gaze. As if that mattered—I could see him perfectly well regardless. “And honestly, I didn’t believe it would work. But when I realized I couldn’t handle things on my own, I had no choice but to take desperate measures. I had nothing left to lose.”
“Fair enough. Considering how much time I’ve slept, eight years is nothing,” I said, acknowledging that no sane person would summon a demon without reason. “Now, we need to decide what to do with you. Unfortunately, you’re already dead, so I can’t simply take your lifeless body as payment. It’s worthless to me. And I can’t possess it while your soul still occupies it.”
“Maybe we can strike a deal?” Dmitry offered hopefully. “I don’t want to die. I’d even be willing to share my body with you until you find a new one!”
“Agreed, mortal! I accept your terms,” I proclaimed immediately, reluctantly adding, “Not that I have much of a choice. From now on, your body is no longer yours alone. It is a vessel for us both until I can restore my true form. The contract takes effect immediately!”
“Tha… tha… thank… you,” Dmitry mumbled weakly before losing consciousness. His soul flared, undergoing an unseen transformation, and I took possession of his body.
Dmitry’s battered, filthy body convulsed on the cold floor, glowing red as the seal reignited. Having lost most of my power after death, I could no longer reshape my avatar instantly or at will. My soul had to painfully adapt to the unsuitable vessel. Even Dmitry’s merged soul couldn’t help; if anything, it only made things worse—his body now had to accommodate two entities.
And so, I, a mighty demon who once annihilated entire armies of demigods, temporarily fell into a slumber—or, as humans say, lost consciousness.