*clack clack*

Tatatatatatata.

Nuriel tried his best to mimic the chefs he saw on food shows back in his previous life, but it was to no avail. Most of his cuts were either too short, too wide, or misaligned—forming uneven chunks that dismantled the onion into bits both too large and too small.

'Vivienne makes it look so easy!' Nuriel continued shredding the onions but was suddenly jolted by a scream beside his ear.

"So slow! Do it faster!" The person smacked Nuriel's back, making him flinch.

After the shock from that slap, Nuriel grabbed another white onion and began dicing again. However, as he was slicing, the strange figure—whose face he still hadn't seen—gave him another smack, this time to the head.

Nuriel began to notice something strange. He had played along with the dream at first, but now he realized he couldn't control himself.

'What's happening?' Nuriel's face contorted as he desperately tried to regain control.

"I didn't adopt you to be dead weight!" the figure screamed again with the tiny spits created hitting Nuriel's face.

'Adopt...' Nuriel considered that word deeply, ignoring the mess that was sticking to the side his head.

He glanced down and noticed his new set of dainty hands now chopping the onions with precise accuracy. He attempted to stop, but he had no power over his muscles. He attempted to talk, but he couldn't make his vocal cords move. His body was acting on its own.

"Ngh." Nuriel moaned as he turned his face away from the chopping board.

The gas emitted from the onions finally got the better of him. Tears swelled in his eyes, causing a momentary blur and sting but he still continued dicing the onions as if nothing happened.

In a flash, he felt a sharp pain in one of his fingers.

The sudden pain was enough to snap him back into control. He checked his hand and saw a deep cut, the opening which was leaking blood mixed with the onion juice, making the pain sting even more.

The noise engulfed him again, and the scene changed.

This time he couldn't even hear the narrator. He just instinctively knew what was coming.

He spawned on top of a massive dining table, filled with exquisite plates of food. Lobster, pasta, turkey, steak, along with swaths of wine bottles that dotted around the edges of the wide space.

Was it the table that had grown huge, or had he shrunk?

Nuriel couldn't differentiate the change in perspective and before he knew it, a large stick of hardtack slammed against his cheek which made him stagger a few steps back.

'Now what?' he grumbled, turning toward the direction of the blow.

Cracker!

the hardtack slammed against him once more, this time at the center his armor, that was also made from hardtack...

In front of Nuriel was a living pancake, holding a massive lance made from the material that struck him twice just now.

Ignoring the absurdity of the sight or what was even happening around him, he charged forwards against the pancake shoulder first, tearing through the poor pancake that was still steaming as if it just got out of the pan.

Wiping sticky bits off his face, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

'I can't use my scepter, I've been morphed into the princess, and a pancake just tried to kill me!'

Only now did Nuriel realize what spying on dreams should've felt like. Before, he had seen realistic dreams that mirrored real life. But now it felt like he was on a psychedelic trip.

Lollipop!

"Kyaaa!..." Nuriel screamed then suddenly stopping to digest what he just shouted.

A soldier made of toasted bread grabbed a fistful of Nuriel's hair before slamming an oversized lollipop mace into his waist, launching him several meters through the air. He rolled along the surface like a human tire until he finally came to a stop.

One thing was for sure, it hurt like hell.

Nuriel tried to get back on his feet, but the pain throbbing through his waist and internal organs forced him back down to the ground.

Pushing his head up enough to see, he spotted the bread soldier marching menacingly toward him, dragging the massive lollipop mace across the ground.

Nuriel glanced at his side. Since he was wearing some kind of food armor, maybe he had a weapon, too!

His brows lit up as he saw an actual gun holstered in a belt made from pasta, an actual gun!

Specifically the one made from metal, and a wood finish that felt nice as Nuriel grabbed a hold of it. 

Before he could draw it, he suddenly heard galloping that thundered behind him.

"Don't fear, my lady! I've come to save you!"

Nuriel blinked. "What the—

"Raaaghh!"

The voice was unmistakable. Edward flew over him, clad in the same ridiculous food armor, riding a horse sculpted entirely from sourdough. His candy cane sword slashed clean through the bread soldier, slicing it in half and creating a loud and satisfying crunch.

"Die, foul beast!" Edward declared, raising his weapon triumphantly.

Nuriel winced and forced his body to stand, pouring every ounce of his willpower going into overcoming the throbbing pain. He griped his waist in pain, wobbling upright just as Edward dismounted and knelt in front of him.

"My lady—

Bang!

Edward crumpled to the ground like a perfect ragdoll before a screen appeared in front of Nuriel.

[Scepter has regained connection with its owner]

[Force disconnection commencing]

***

It seemed like he slept under a rock, he felt a small pain at his waist followed by some dizziness which only lasted for around a minute after he woke up.

dragging himself to the living room, he crashed down on the couch and covered his face with his hand. He absorbed all that has just occurred in the dream, remaining quiet and stationary for what seemed like an eternity.

Then, Nuriel couldn't help but begin laughing, slightly.

Just beside him was Vivienne making a coffee on a table top, after she had finished. she sat quietly in the shadows. Drinking the hot coffee, she turned her head slightly to the side to keep observing the peculiar scene before her.