Enki's presence in Umbria was a constant source of tension. Although he provided valuable information about the Ancient Ones and Anunnaki tactics, his air of superiority and evasive answers about his race's deep past generated mistrust, especially in Merlin. The old wizard felt that Enki was hiding something fundamental.
Determined to obtain the truth, Merlin called an assembly in the Great Hall. Not only the Council and the Ancient Wizards were present, but also key student representatives and faculty, and of course, Enki, flanked by discreet but powerful magical guards. Dracula watched from the shadows, as was his custom.
"Enki," Merlin began, his voice calm but firm, echoing in the silent hall. "You have told us of the Lyran Wars, of the Great Old Ones, of your brother Enlil. But you have been vague about the exact role of the Anunnaki in the history of this planet, beyond 'observation' and 'concealment'."
Merlin paused, his blue eyes fixed on Enki's golden ones. "The oldest texts, fragments that even I can barely decipher, do not speak only of observation. They speak of 'creation,' of 'shaping,' of 'those who serve from the dust.'"
Enki maintained his composure, but a slight tension hardened his features. "What do you mean, Wizard?"
"I mean humanity," Merlin said. "Homo sapiens. The speed of our conscious evolution, the quantum leap from barely upright primates to builders of civilizations... has always been an enigma. Too fast, too... directed. What was your role, Enki?"
The question hung in the air. All eyes were on the Anunnaki. Enki remained silent for a moment, assessing the situation. He could have denied it, evaded it, but he felt Merlin's piercing gaze, the collective distrust. Perhaps a calculated truth was necessary to maintain their precarious position and ensure cooperation against greater threats.
"The truth is... complex, Magus," Enki finally replied, his voice now lacking its usual melody, tinged with an ancient coldness. "And perhaps painful for your species."
He took a breath, as if preparing to reveal a millennia-old weight. "When we arrived on this world, countless orbital cycles of our own planet ago, we found a rich biosphere, but with intelligent life forms still in their most primitive stages. Your ancestors, the hominids you classify as Homo erectus or similar, possessed potential, but lacked the capacity for complex tasks, for organization... for the service we required."
A murmur of unease rippled through the hall.
"My race," Enki continued, "needed resources from this planet to maintain the balance of our own biosphere on our homeworld... Nibiru."
The name fell like a stone in a pond. Nibiru. The wandering planet of legend, the mythical home of the Sumerian gods.
"We needed an intelligent and docile workforce," Enki continued, with almost clinical objectivity. "The existing hominids were unsuitable. So... we enhanced them. My sister, Ninhursag, a master geneticist of unparalleled skill, and I oversaw the project. We modified your genetic structure."
Horror flashed across the faces of those present. Aria felt nauseous.
"We accelerated your cerebral evolution," Enki explained. "We gave you the capacity for complex language, planning, social organization... but we also implanted certain... protocols. A predisposition to reverence for authority figures perceived as 'gods'. A capacity for hard work and obedience. A consciousness capable of understanding and following instructions, but limited in its ability to question the order established by its creators."
"In essence," Enki concluded, with no trace of remorse in his voice, "we took primitive Homo sapiens and turned it into Homo sapiens sapiens... the faithful servant of the Anunnaki. We gave you the spark of higher consciousness, yes, but we molded it to our convenience."
A deafening silence filled the Great Hall. The revelation was monstrous, unimaginable. Had humanity, at its core, been designed to serve? Was its free will an illusion, its religions an echo of genetic programming?
"How... how could you?" Professor Minerva whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
"It was a pragmatic necessity in a forgotten age," Enki replied, shrugging almost imperceptibly. "And in many ways, a gift. We elevated you above the animals. We gave you civilization, if only for our own purposes. Enlil, my brother, would have preferred simply to enslave or exterminate."
Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of centuries of suspicion confirmed in the most brutal way. "You played God, Anunnaki," he said, his voice thick with cold fury.
And you forged chains in the very soul of humanity. Chains that perhaps explain much of our history of conflict and submission."
Enki's confession, though possibly incomplete and certainly self-serving, had changed everything. Trust, already fragile, had evaporated. The alliance against cosmic threats was now poisoned by the revelation that one of their supposed allies belonged to the race that had genetically engineered humanity into slavery. The question now was not only how to survive Cthulhu and the Netlins, but how to face the truth of their own manipulated origins.