May Bells (Oikawa x reader) {Final Haikyuu Quest!AU}

Purple Iris

It's a true example of chaotic magic at its finest as you get sent sprawling across the muddy dirt. "Fuck!" You grunt, rivulets of crimson emerging from your stinging and scraped skin as you heave yourself up onto one elbow, blindly feeling around for your staff in the dark of night, far away from the candlelit, yellow, light of town. Instead you slice open the palm of your hand on a sharp rock that was hidden in the mud and growl in frustration at your own misfortune. Chancing an opportunity to see how the others are doing, you look up and within the darkness you see flashes of Hinata's fiery orange hair, something long and narrow whizzing through the air which can only assume to be one of kageyama's arrows, and the magic of a white mage— so for now everyone is safe, even as they fight a blood thirsty demon.

You mutter a prayer as you continue looking for your staff— it's an old phrase from the days of your cleric training, and though you haven't set foot in that church in almost three years the holy magic still works like a charm, a bright glow encases your three friends as a mark of protection from the demon's wrath, and upon seeing the holy glow the demon lets out an inhuman growl of rage before his intense crimson eyes lock onto your pathetic form, now desperately groping around for your staff and ignoring the stinging sensation the feel of your hot blood mixing with the cool mud below.

Within that brief moment your mind is racing, in the midst of such panic, no magic you can muster up would be concentrated enough to fend off the demon without your staff to help focus it. But all you need is just a few seconds longer, a few seconds longer to find your staff. "Utved hait!"

A commanding set of words laced with all the magic you can muster in the moment, 'back off'. Like a gust of wind, the magic unbalances the demon's footing and forces him to stagger backwards, long enough for Hinata to land another blow, one that snaps the demon's horn off in a clean single blow, long enough for you to finally seize your precious staff with greedy, bloody, fingers and swiftly put it to use.

Immediately you allow the buzzing magic inside your pained fingertips to flow through the strong wood of the staff, and with a determined voice you speak, "Lanþas monas, cen atoeh pouþenah bek."

'Evil demon, you have nowhere to run.'

Shackles made of what looks to be pure sunlight burst from the ground beneath the demon's feet and take firm hold of him, bringing him to his knees. "You idiotic hag," he spits, futility wrestling against the blinding chains, "I am a commander under King Oikawa himself— he will hunt down you and your band of fools once he hears of your interference, and he will show you no mercy!"

Your voice falters for less than a second upon hearing that name, you and your friends had not been informed that this demon served under the King's royal court, "Kenma, now!" With flawless reflexes Kenma mutters quiet but firm words of magic under his breath. "Zem utved moh polko eap lanþas."

'Go back to your wretched home.'

His white magic— though different than the magic of a cleric— works just as well and sends the demon back to its realm in a flurry blinding light and the deafening, violent curses of the demon promising a bloody revenge.

With the demon gone, it suddenly seems like the world around them is calm once more. The first few rays of dawn begin glimmering down upon them and the quietness is disrupted by your tired, strained, voice, muttering soothing words laced with clerical magic that heals the bruises and cuts littering your friends' bodies. Kageyama makes sure to collect the broken horn of the vanquished demon before you depart.

Walking back to town now Hinata and Kageyama are already talkative again, bickering with each other as baby birds in the trees begin to noisily chirp in the morning light. Though free of wounds thanks to your own handy work, you grimace down at your ruined cloak, now riddled with rips and holes. You huff, this cloak is enchanted, it can't be magically re-fibered as easily as regular clothes.