Dimensional Hotel-Chapter 188: The Name of the Angel

Yu Sheng’s vision trembled violently once more, accompanied by a cacophony of startled gasps and harsh, jarring noises. It seemed the Heretic Cultists currently undergoing Dream Entry were being overwhelmed by a surge of violent emotions from their memories. Yet, contrary to what one might expect, the dreamscape did not collapse from such turmoil. Instead, it began to unveil scenes that were chilling beyond imagination.

He saw the abandoned warehouse crumbling, the very ground and sky fracturing along with it. The black silhouettes that had encircled the Ritual Platform began melting into the air one by one, transforming into massive clouds that surged upward and expanded. Something that had long been buried in the subconscious of the Heretic Cultists was now “leaking” due to the dream’s destabilization, and in Yu Sheng’s parasitic state, he bore witness to it unfurling before him.

A colossal projection appeared—an enormous egg suspended above the shattered remnants of the warehouse. Its surface gleamed with a metallic sheen, lined with ridges and grooves where countless flickering eye-like structures blinked in and out. A low hum echoed from it, like some vast machinery running deep within.

In the next instant, the floating egg exploded.

From its depths, writhing flesh burst forth uncontrollably. Strange tendrils surged from its ruptured seams, spilling outward and hanging down from the sky, swaying blindly through the air. Then came a new sound—the piercing cry of an infant…

Tremors, quakes, wails—Yu Sheng suddenly felt his consciousness plummet. At the exact moment of that falling sensation, he heard Irene scream: “Holy crap, he’s waking up!”

Reality snapped back into place. Yu Sheng’s eyes flew open as if a drowning man had just gasped for air. At nearly the same moment, he turned his head to see the Angel Cultist across from him also awakening, gasping violently.

Terror and rage twisted across the bald man’s face. Gone was the lofty, death-defying gaze of a superior being; in its place was raw fury. He glared at Yu Sheng, seemingly on the verge of lunging.

But Yu Sheng simply stood, gazed back at him calmly, and asked in a low voice, “An-Ka-Ai-La—what does that word mean?”

He hadn’t expected the Heretic Cultist to explode in rage. Despite the electric currents from the restraining device, the man lunged forward, screaming, “Your filthy mouth is not worthy of uttering Its name…”

Halfway through his charge, a silver-white tail sliced through the air and slammed him into a nearby wall. Yu Sheng barely saw what happened. Foxy had become a blur, diving forward and grabbing the Angel Cultist by the leg, then slamming him repeatedly onto the floor with a series of loud crashes. Finally, she flung him aside. Seeing that he was barely breathing, she quickly flailed into action and began casting healing spells.

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The Demon Fox Maiden didn’t say a word throughout—stoic and aloof during the attack, but now flustered beyond measure.

Even Irene stood dumbstruck beside her. She gawked at Foxy. “…You sure act fast.”

“Just patch him up enough to survive. The rest is up to the Special Affairs Bureau,” Yu Sheng said as he recovered, patting Foxy on the head before turning toward a camera in the corner and gesturing. “I’m done on this end.”

Moments later, the heavy security Door groaned with mechanical clicks from within. Song Cheng and Bai Li Qing appeared on the other side, flanked by several fully armed guards.

Yu Sheng strode over with Foxy and Irene in tow. Before Song Cheng could speak, he said gravely, “We need somewhere quiet. This is a big one.”

Bai Li Qing gave him a deep look and nodded. “To my office.”

Thus began another labyrinthine journey through the bizarre corridors, elevators, and empty rooms of the Special Affairs Bureau Headquarters Building. Only after a long trek did they reach their destination:

The most “mysterious” place in the entire Bureau—Bai Li Qing’s office.

But it was not what Yu Sheng expected. Despite its considerable size, the space was sparsely furnished. Filing cabinets and display screens lined the walls. At the center stood a large oval table. Other than that, the room was nearly bare. What truly drew the eye, however, was the massive floor-to-ceiling window behind the desk. Outside it lay an eternal fog, within which the scenery constantly shifted—sometimes a city skyline, other times distant mountains, fields, or even an endless sea.

The guards and any unrelated staff swiftly exited. Soon, only Yu Sheng, his companions, Bai Li Qing, and Song Cheng—who had been ordered to stay—remained in the room.

“You may speak now,” said Bai Li Qing, her gaze steady as she looked toward Yu Sheng.

Yu Sheng gave a small nod. “Alright, I’ll get straight to the point — the group of Heretic Cultists appear to be worshipping a Dark Angel who is either dormant or imprisoned. And if I’m not mistaken, this so-called ‘Angel’ is likely trapped within ‘Fairytale Town.'”

Song Cheng visibly tensed, his mouth twitching after a moment. “That’s… one hell of a point you just got straight to.”

Ignoring the mumble, Yu Sheng pressed on, his voice calm but swift. “I infiltrated the dream of one of the Angel Cultists — found a weak spot in his will, and he had little to no defenses in the dreamscape.

“There, I witnessed one of their gatherings and a typical ritual prayer. There are more than just the two currently in your custody — several others are hiding in the shadows. During the rites, they referred to the ‘Messenger’ they follow as being asleep and in need of rescue from suffering. They also mentioned ‘breaking the shell,’ which is why I suspect their master is trapped in Fairytale Town.

“Moreover, I heard them speak of a ‘vessel.’ This vessel seems crucial for the Dark Angel’s descent or liberation. The requirements are stringent. One member of the Association of Strange Objects had already been influenced by the Dark Angel and was on the path to becoming a devout follower — but was discarded because they didn’t meet the vessel criteria. They said someone unfit would disrupt the Angel’s arrival if converted.”

As Yu Sheng relayed detail after detail, Song Cheng’s brows knit ever tighter, and even Bai Li Qing — who rarely showed much emotion — looked visibly grave.

The mere mention of a Dark Angel was enough to unsettle even the Director of the Special Affairs Bureau.

“Did you manage to identify which Dark Angel they’re worshipping? A name, trait, anything?” Bai Li Qing suddenly asked.

“During the prayer, they repeatedly chanted a word — sounded something like this,” Yu Sheng cleared his throat and tried to replicate the eerie sound, “An-Ka-Ai-La… something like ‘Anka Aila.’ There were tremors and echoes in the middle I couldn’t reproduce. I’m not sure if it’s the actual name or some ceremonial embellishment — especially since their ritual ultimately failed. Could’ve been due to using counterfeit ritual candles.”

“…What?” said Song Cheng, utterly lost by that last remark.

Bai Li Qing, however, was fixated on the strange name. She muttered it under her breath, frowning, “An-Ka-Ai-La… Anka Aila…”

“Does that sound familiar?” Yu Sheng asked with curiosity.

“No, but this is the first time we’ve ever heard a ‘name’ for a Dark Angel,” Bai Li Qing replied solemnly. “Until now, we only knew them by code names — like ‘Goddess of Beauty,’ or ‘Heka’s Star,’ or ‘Forest Angel.’ Those were titles assigned by first witnesses based on traits. But ‘Anka Aila’… that doesn’t sound like a code name.”

Yu Sheng immediately understood the implication.

“Then how do other Angel Cultists refer to their ‘Messenger’?” he asked. “You mentioned ‘Goddess of Beauty’ and ‘Heka’s Star’ — don’t they have believers, too?”

“They just use the code names,” Song Cheng chimed in. “Angel Cultists were once ordinary people driven mad. They claim to hear the voice of their Messenger, but as far as we know, none of the Dark Angels ever rationally communicated with their followers — let alone disclosed their true name. We never considered they had names.”

Yu Sheng furrowed his brow, pondering deeply before looking up again. “Then this group hiding in Boundary City might have actually made contact with a communicative Dark Angel — and even learned its true name?!”

“Or they’re just lunatics with delusions again,” Song Cheng said, waving a hand. “Might’ve overdosed on something and hallucinated a whisper, which they turned into a name.”

Yu Sheng remained grave, not dismissing the possibility, but not fully buying it either.

“You should interrogate that bald one again,” he said slowly. “His mental defenses have already been broken once, and his dream has been exposed. It should be easier to shatter him again. You might dig up more — like who his allies are, and where ‘Anka Aila’ came from.”

“We’ll handle that,” Bai Li Qing nodded, her tone crisp. “The Special Affairs Bureau is more adept at standard interrogations. Now, what about you…?

“That Orphanage,” Yu Sheng inhaled quietly. “Those Angel Cultists won’t stay quiet for long. If their ‘Master’ really is trapped inside Fairytale Town, they’ll make another move. The trap Little Red Riding Hood stumbled into might’ve just been a preliminary test.”