Dimensional Hotel-Chapter 187: The Dream of the Ritual

In a room not far from the prison chamber, Song Cheng instinctively held his breath. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, displaying a live feed. Nearby monitors showed various readings alongside filtered, layered analysis videos.

Bai Li Qing sat calmly beside him, her face serene as she observed the footage.

“Director, did you catch that just now?” Song Cheng glanced back at Bai Li Qing, who remained expressionless. “When that doll acted…”

“I saw it,” Bai Li Qing said evenly. “An unknown phenomenon, some sort of tangible ‘threads’ that can affect both physical and mental aspects simultaneously. However, they’re unlike the threads used by Alice’s Doll that I recall.”

Song Cheng nodded gravely, his gaze returning to the surveillance screen.

When Yu Sheng was “reasoning” with the angel cultist, it hadn’t surprised him. When Yu Sheng and Foxy healed the cultist three times before “criticizing” him another three times, neither he nor Bai Li Qing reacted much either. As veterans—a squad leader and a Special Affairs Bureau director—they were accustomed to bloodshed. Despite the rules and duties that bound them, they had often resorted to lethal measures when dealing with cultists. Yu Sheng’s unconventional “interrogation” style, though peculiar, wasn’t beyond their comprehension.

However, the situation changed when Irene made her move.

“The equipment recorded a series of unique energy spikes just now,” a middle-aged man in a technician’s uniform reported from nearby. He monitored the fluctuating data while speaking. “The waveform is unusual and doesn’t match any known ‘powers’ in our database, including the blessings bestowed by Ancient Holy Spirits or the spells wielded by ‘practitioners.’”

As he spoke, the technician displayed the waveform chart on the monitor before Song Cheng and Bai Li Qing. A series of violently oscillating curves filled the graph, many extending beyond the axes’ limits. Beside the chart, a three-dimensional diagram showcased intricate and bewildering transformations.

“…Several characteristic points exceed the detection range of our instruments,” Bai Li Qing murmured, her brows furrowing as she glanced briefly at Irene on the main screen. Her expression grew heavier as she asked, “Does it lean toward tangibility?”

“It doesn’t seem tangible. Tangible energy signatures are simpler and wouldn’t breach our detection limits like this.”

For a moment, hesitation flickered across Bai Li Qing’s face before she spoke in a low voice, “…What about Dark Angels?”

The technician’s expression turned to one of shock, verging on horror. Yet, seeing the director’s calm and serious demeanor, he swallowed his fears and replied dutifully, “No, it doesn’t resemble them—at least not according to the database. And if I may add, on a non-technical note… If a Dark Angel’s power had truly entered the real world, this entire floor would likely already be devoid of life.”

Bai Li Qing said nothing, her gaze fixed intently on the three figures in the footage: Yu Sheng, who thought himself human; Foxy, likely from “beyond the world”; and Irene, a doll exceeding the system’s understanding. This Hotel truly had no normal occupants.

After a moment, Bai Li Qing exhaled softly. “Keep recording,” she instructed. “Everything documented today is to be classified.”

…

Yu Sheng followed the vision, moving cautiously through the desolate, abandoned warehouse.

He adhered to Irene’s instructions, minimizing his presence as much as possible. He avoided glancing at irrelevant corners or attempting to control his current “body.”

The bald angel cultist was “dreaming,” wandering through a memory-scape Irene had crafted. In this state, the cultist had temporarily forgotten his capture. However, should he sense another presence within his thoughts, he would likely awaken instantly.

Within the limited perspective, Yu Sheng scrutinized the surroundings and listened carefully to the ambient noises.

Distant car horns echoed faintly, suggesting the area lay far from bustling city zones. His vision revealed stacks of metal containers and pipes dangling from steel frameworks above. Some of the chemical drums bore faded or dirt-covered hazard symbols…a chemical storage facility?

The warehouse was unlit, though sunlight streamed in through a few high windows. Judging by the light, it seemed to be either early morning or late evening. Certain corners of the warehouse appeared especially dark, though it was unclear if this was reality or a “block” imposed by the cultist’s fragmented memory.

Additional footsteps suddenly echoed nearby, quickly drawing Yu Sheng’s attention.

He observed as the perspective he was currently “parasitizing” cautiously scanned left and right. Then, as if identifying a coded symbol on the surface of a metallic container, the host’s perspective appeared slightly relieved. The figure navigated around the massive container and entered a secret chamber at the end of the warehouse corridor. Within the chamber, a dim electric lamp flickered faintly, peculiar lit candles adorned the floor, and several shadowy figures stood around them, seemingly having waited a long while.

Several figures?

…It seemed the Angel Cultists hidden in Boundary City, worshipping some obscure and sinister dark angel, were far more numerous than the two who had been captured!

Yu Sheng’s heart jolted, and he instinctively focused on the shadowy figures, attempting to discern their faces.

However, the next instant, he realized that every one of them appeared shrouded in a layer of black mist. Their entire forms were cloaked in a strange, indistinct distortion, making it impossible to see them clearly no matter how hard he tried.

A faint sense of rejection suddenly surfaced, and Yu Sheng’s heart tensed. Hastily, he ceased this “observation,” which risked exposing his presence.

Were the other members’ faces and forms concealed because they had employed some method in the real world to hide themselves, preventing identification if one of them were caught? Or was it some subconscious “defense mechanism,” ensuring that even in the most relaxed dream state, this captured cultist would instinctively obscure his comrades?

Yu Sheng silently pondered while further suppressing his presence, continuing to observe the mysterious figures’ actions.

“You’re late.”

One of the indistinct figures seemed to turn, addressing the tardy member.

“Negotiating with that Association of Strange Objects member took more time than expected. I had to be cautious to prevent arousing suspicion,” the perspective’s host replied. “He’s only just begun following the master’s guidance. His faith and resolve are not yet firm, and he remains wary of us.”

Yu Sheng immediately concentrated: they were discussing Old Zheng!

“Hmm… is the progress satisfactory?” another figure inquired.

“Everything is proceeding smoothly. The target has been seeking ways to counteract the Fairy Tale Organization for years. His desire for this path surpasses all else. Though he still harbors doubts, I believe he has recently begun attempting the spirit-summoning technique I provided him. The master’s power has already taken root in his mind. His conversion is only a matter of time.”

“…So, are we truly to accept such a convert?” another voice from the corner questioned. “He’s not a suitable vessel; he simply meets our current needs. If he truly becomes a devout believer, coupled with his ties to the Fairy Tale Organization, it could interfere with the master’s descent…”

“Handle him once the matter concludes,” the first speaker declared indifferently. “Providing any assistance to the master’s descent is a tremendous honor. To die with an innocent soul is the master’s grace to him. Furthermore, retaining someone of his status within a large organization for too long would cause significant complications once exposed.”

The others immediately nodded in agreement, offering their approval.

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With that, the decision was made.

Suddenly, Yu Sheng felt the scene before him begin to tremble, and the dreamscape shifted once more—

The surroundings remained within the old warehouse’s management room, but the shadowy figures had subtly repositioned themselves. It seemed they had arranged themselves according to specific placements around the candles. One figure stepped forward, adding some sort of incense into the candle flames. Then, bending down in unison, they smeared blood on the floor with remarkable coordination.

They chanted cryptic incantations, their voices imbued with reverence. The candle flames flickered, synchronizing eerily with the rhythm of their prayer. The incense released strange hues as it burned, its smoke forming a tangible veil around the shadowy figures. They drank a suspicious liquid and began chanting in unison:

“We pray to you, may you soon break free;

We pray to you, may you soon awaken;

We pray to you, may you soon descend.

We utter your name so you may find the path to awakening within this utterance. We utter your name, as you once heard upon embarking from that distant, boundless road—

An-Ka-Ai-La—Mother and Cradle, Hope and Future!

Protector! Comforter! Nurturer of the First and Last! Speaker! Soother! Sustainer of Infants and Children!

An-Ka-Ai-La!

You and those you protect shall ultimately shed that shell—the realm prepared for your descent is about to open…”

The cultists prayed fervently, chanting as though governed by a single mind. The bizarre and unsettling ritual continued, with one word—its pronunciation peculiar—repeated incessantly. As the unsettling ceremony progressed, Yu Sheng observed as the ceiling subtly split open, revealing a horrifying, grotesque tentacle descending from the opening. It emitted an ear-splitting noise and a crackling friction that pierced the mind.

The cultists erupted into frenzied joy, their overwhelming elation seemingly palpable despite their obscured faces, filling the ritual chamber with a maddening intensity.

But just as the tentacle neared the cultists, poised to bestow a new “blessing,” the candles on the floor abruptly crackled and sputtered. Impurities in the wax caused small explosions, disrupting the once-uniform flames. The smoke forming the symbolic “boundary” veil suddenly tore apart and dissipated.

The tentacle let out a sharp, grating screech before vanishing into thin air.