"Unless the sun conveniently rises in another hour or two, I couldn't tell ya what our best bet is, 'specially since there's little telling how powerful this Dracula bloke truly is," Constantine replied to Sebastian, shrugging mildly.
The scientific journals within Dracula's table didn't possess any info of much interest. More ramblings of notes without context, diagrams for potions that did the unimaginable, and so on.
As for his personal journal, the writing was more legible. Most of the pages were empty, except for the few pages that seemed to be loose from the book,
two of which even falling out of the journal itself. Catching
one of such pages out of the air, Constantine casually sat atop the edge of the desk, letting out a soft breath.
"Now this... This is curious," he said, before reading what exactly it said, clearing his throat as he did so.
"As I lay within the solace of my own asylum, this hellish underworld that hath nourished me greater than the life-giving sun ever could, I had hoped that I would never be found again. And yet, a man dares to appear me. A sniveling human, so sure of himself, one who has completely accepted the sin of his being. I know not if I admire him for it or condemn him, but it matters little what I think of an insect. Except... He was more than just a mere human. He managed to speak just quickly enough to prevent me from crushing his throat simply for believing he could stand in the same room as I, telling me of a concept that proved... interesting indeed. A... multiverse, he called it."
Constantine pursed his lips, sighed, and then kept going.
"Promises of greater power mean nothing to me; after all, what am I to do with such power? And yet... I am loath to admit that a lowly human was able to maintain my own attention, much more than that, a man of cloth and faith. Perhaps that was what amused me the most. A man bearing a cross, and yet, I felt nothing but pure evil from him. There was no God in him. He captivates me enough with his charisma that after the fact, I could not accept that a human had given me pause for so long. He promised that the power he held would allow me to flee this hell that we called this "world," and live in a new one. A world where none knew who I was. One where I was able to live, free of the Belmonts, free of Ecclesia... free even of my own son, to live as I please. I scoffed at his mad ramblings... until he bestowed such a power upon me, and before I knew it, he had gone, leaving me to record this just to prove to myself that he was ever there at all."
"He called himself Kirei Kotomine, and he called this power, the Right Hand of the Crimson Moon."
Zatanna visibly furrowed a brow, crossing her arms as she looked over the page.
"What? No... Couldn't be, couldn't be," she said, shaking her head,
"Unless... This journal is way older than I thought."
"Must be. Paper feels so brittle, yet so stiff. Now that's what I call damned archaic. Guess that man got what he wanted in the end; even after everything that's happened, he still finds a way to haunt us," Constantine spat. It seemed that they recognized the names in the page, but didn't seem overly concerned with it, as though it were a bygone memory of a man who fought against the multiverse that he was trapped in.
"Maybe it'd make more sense if we read the other page?"
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