Silence reigned for several minutes until the entity finally spoke, its voice low and raspy.
"I loathe the senseless taking of lives, but it is the toll of my long imprisonment all this time."
Constantine wiped the blood from his mouth with a rag torn from the clothes of one of the dead. The sole surviving worker gathered the shattered remnants of his courage and asked, his voice trembling, "Who... who are you?"
Constantine replied with dead calm, "My name is Constantine. I was imprisoned in this coffin, and thanks to you and your comrades... here I return. I had intended to reward you... but my hunger was faster than my gratitude."
He fixed a piercing gaze on the worker. "What year is this?"
The worker's body flinched, and he cried out, "310! We are in the year three hundred and ten!"
Constantine nodded slowly, absorbing the number. "Thirty years, then..." He continued coldly, "And where are we now?"
The worker pointed a trembling hand toward the horizon. "The Strait of Loss... miles away from the city of Laurent."
The worker asked in a hushed tone, "What happened to you? Why were you a prisoner?"
Constantine did not answer immediately. Instead, his memory drifted into a glimpse of the past, recalling the event that had caused this imprisonment over thirty years ago.
The state was then in a sprawling war with an international alliance; a war that caused a total drain on its resources, especially since the enemy's army vastly outnumbered them and possessed far more advanced weaponry. Faced with this deterioration, the state began searching for desperate solutions, launching a project to conscript vampires and werewolves to join their ranks in the war.
Given the miserable conditions vampires endured during that period, they suffered under strict restrictions imposed by the state. Despite their power, the authorities showed no leniency; rather, they invested in numerous projects to limit their influence and force them into hiding. Their greatest fear was the covert organizations and secret squads specialized in hunting them down.
At that time, the Minister of War reached out to Constantine and struck a deal with him. The pact was simple on the surface: help us in the war, and in the event of victory, you will be rewarded and your living conditions improved. You will be granted lands of your own, with a guarantee to halt security pursuits except for those who commit a crime. Given the bleak outlook back then, Constantine found no choice but to accept the pact.
Constantine fought this war alongside his brother, his sister, and a group of vampires and werewolves. After a single month, despite the fall of many among them due to the sheer size and advanced weaponry of the enemy's army, the scales ultimately tipped in favor of the state, thanks to those supernatural powers.
But the moment the conflict ended, Constantine was struck by the news of that Minister's "martyrdom," and the Republic began to renege on its promises. Constantine led a rebellion then. As time passed, and due to the war draining the state's budget, the authorities seemed unable to fund the organizations and squads suppressing those with supernatural powers, so they resorted to cunning and deceit.
One morning, Constantine received a letter stating they had finally agreed to settle the situation. Startled but unsuspicious of their intentions, he received the time and location for the meeting: [The Military Facility - Evening].
He and his siblings went to initiate the final agreement. Upon their arrival at the facility, a minister welcomed them and escorted them to a meeting room where drinks and food were served. The conversation began... and with the first three words to leave Constantine's tongue, he felt as though the sky were collapsing beneath him.
He heard the creak of doors opening. Shadows moving at lightning speed. He heard the screams of his siblings tearing through the silence. Then, pain overwhelmed him. In his chest. In his shoulder. Everywhere. Silver. He knew its accursed taste; it was now surging through his body.
He tried to stand but couldn't. He saw the ground rushing toward his face, while he heard a cold voice order: "Restrain them." Constantine fell, watching his siblings face the exact same fate, fading into unconsciousness completely ignorant of what became of them after that moment.
Constantine banished the reel of memories from his mind and returned his full focus to the trembling worker before him. He said in a decisive tone, "What happened, and what I will do... is of no concern to you. Steer this ship toward Laurent. Now."
The worker obeyed in terrified silence. The first hour passed with the ship cutting through the fog, and by the second hour, the lights of the city of Laurent began to loom on the horizon; a forest of iron and giant smokestacks. When the ship approached a deserted rocky area, the engine stopped. Constantine ordered coldly, "Take off your clothes. Now."
Constantine donned the worker's soot-stained clothes. In a blinding blur of motion, the worker's head flew from his body, falling dead onto the wet wood. Constantine began the grueling journey of attrition; he boarded a lifeboat and battled the waves for three additional hours. His muscles, frozen for three decades, screamed in agony, and the ancient silver poison in his joints made every stroke of the oar a physical hell.
With the first threads of dawn, after five hours of bitter struggle, the bow of the boat touched the mainland of Laurent in the year 310. He staggered as he took his first steps, vanishing among the shipwrecks.