Fiction

EnZi Part One Odesa Chapter 17 Chiron's Greatest Disciple

by Stanislav Dema
01/27/26
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Apocalyptica - Hope Vol. 2 (Matthias Sayer)

I fell silent for a second—even now, years later, the name itself evoked that strange agitation in me.

— It sounded wild, — I continued. — Too wild to pass by. And I began to read. The document turned out to be a compilation—a mix of legends, stories, and, what struck me most, fragments resembling technical descriptions.

According to these texts, in antediluvian times, the Nephilim, striving to consolidate their dominion over humans, created something like a reasoning machine—a device capable of subjugating human consciousness.

They called it En-zi.

— Here, — I said and took a folded sheet of paper from my pocket. — Look.

On the sheet, two cuneiform signs were neatly drawn.

𒂗𒍪 (EN) — "lord," "master."

𒍣 (ZI) — "soul," "life."

— Translated—"Master of Souls."

Actually, this is the last recorded Sumerian name. What it was originally—no one knows. The language of those times has not been preserved.

But this term—En-zi—passed through millennia like a scar left on the body of civilization.

I placed the sheet on the table.

For a moment, silence hung in the room. Vasilis and Ester exchanged glances—without words, but with that attention which arises when talk turns to things beyond ordinary understanding.

— Judging by the descriptions, — I continued, — En-zi represented something like a gigantic computing machine.

Not in our modern sense—not of metal and wires, of course. Rather—a giant crystal.

I tapped my finger lightly on the edge of the sheet.

— The document cited several fragments written in clearly non-mythological language. It spoke of wave resonances, synchronization of mental flows, and the coefficient of consciousness coupling.

It sounds like fiction—and yet some formulations resembled engineering notes.

Something like a control circuit, only instead of energy—consciousness, instead of a receiver—the human mind.

I raised my eyes to Vasilis.

— En-zi, — I said quietly, — was not just a machine. He was a network.

A network that united the thoughts of thousands of people—turning them into a single control loop.

In other words, the Nephilim created the first prototype of a collective consciousness corrector capable of directing the will of masses of people.

Vasilis slowly leaned back on the sofa, thoughtfully running his hand over his beard.

— That is, — he pronounced, — we are talking about something like an ancient form of... psychotronic weapon?

— Possibly, — I answered. — But not exactly a weapon.

Rather—an instrument of power. A machine that controlled people through the very structure of their consciousness.

— What I read, — I continued, — struck me so much that I decided to dig further.

I began searching for any mention of En-zi—in catalogs, decipherments, traveler's notes, and even in private archives.

And soon I stumbled upon several more documents. Scattered, fragmentary, but still giving a little more understanding of the operating principle of this machine.

By all appearances, En-zi represented something like a global computing complex—with a huge central core and a multitude of distributed nodes scattered across the entire surface of the Earth.

All of them were connected to each other by a peculiar network.

A Nephilim could control this system, connecting to it through a special interface—not physical, but likely mental.

But the strangest thing—the texts mentioned that for activation or maintaining communication, a medium was necessary—a human who serves as a connecting link between the machine and the people it controls.

Why exactly he is needed—is unclear.

However, it followed from the context that the role of the medium was key: without him, the system did not work.

Further—even more surprising.

After the demise of the Nephilim civilization, En-zi, it seems, did not disappear.

He simply went into a dormant state—as if asleep, waiting for someone to activate him again.

And some sources directly indicated: if a person can connect to this machine again, he will gain power over the will of millions.

I fell silent, feeling an oppressive silence hang in the room.

Even the sea outside the window seemed to quiet down, listening.

Vasilis and Ester listened to me without interrupting.

Not a single unnecessary movement, not a word—only attentive gazes in which not simple curiosity was read, but recognition.

It suddenly seemed to me that everything I spoke of was already known to them.

As if they were simply waiting for me to reach the right place in my story, to then say: yes, exactly so.

Ester tilted her head slightly, her eyes shining—not with fear, not with surprise, but with some deep knowledge.

Vasilis sat motionless, leaning his elbow on the armrest, and seemed to be looking thoughtfully not at me, but through me.

Finally, I fell silent and questioningly shifted my gaze from one to the other.

— You... knew? — I asked quietly.

— Monsieur Duroc, — began Vasilis after a short pause, — life is a strange thing. Sometimes it intertwines people's fates in amazing ways, as if someone from above connects threads to create an ornament.

He exchanged a glance with Ester, and in this look, there was something solemn.

— It so happened, — he continued, — that Ester and I are representatives of different peoples, born in different countries, but our families, unknowingly, turned out to be keepers of parts of the same secret.

Ester lowered her eyes slightly, as if remembering something very distant.

— My wife's father, — said Vasilis, — was a descendant of the Levites—that ancient line which once collected a vast dossier on the phenomenon you spoke of. These people created a special brotherhood—Keepers of Sanctity. Their duty was to protect knowledge of ancient forces and pass it from generation to generation, awaiting the hour when it would be needed by humanity again.

He fell silent for a moment, then added:

— As for me, my very distant ancestor named Lukas was an archivist at the Library of Alexandria.

And perhaps those very documents you studied were systematized by him—thousands of years ago.

Since then, our family has passed down this information—secretly, from father to son.

He sighed and said softly, but firmly:

— Why fate decreed it this way, we do not know. But we know one thing—now that all these threads have converged, we can help you in your search.

We believe that the day will come when this ancient evil will be destroyed.

And it seems, Monsieur Duroc, that this day is near.

Vasilis looked at me intently, searchingly.

— Zusya informed us, — he continued, — that you are a man who was inside En-zi and remained alive.

This is astounding. Only a few such cases are known in history—people who survived contact with the Soul Eater.

This means that you are not just a researcher. You have some connection with this phenomenon, and that is why we are ready to share with you what we have told no one.

He smiled slightly—wearily, but sincerely.

— Perhaps to others, all this would seem like an old legend, family tales. But I am sure, — he said, — you are not one of those who look for a fairy tale in this.

You will understand that all this is not a myth, but knowledge that has reached us through millennia.

— Now, Monsieur Duroc, — said Vasilis, leaning slightly forward, — I will tell you the part of the secret known to me. And then Ester will share what her family keeps.

He made a short pause, as if gathering his thoughts.

— What you said is generally correct, — he pronounced finally. — But there is one point you apparently did not know.

A human cannot control the Soul Eater.

He is capable of being only a conduit—a medium.

So to speak, a connecting link between the machine and the mental energy of the human mass.

— Only a Nephilim can control this system, or, as some texts specify—a descendant of the Nephilim who has preserved their consciousness structure within himself.

Such an operator is capable of connecting to En-zi and subordinating the will of people to his own.

Effectively—reformatting their minds, forcing millions to think and act as he alone needs.

He took a sip of water from a glass and continued quietly:

— But there is one condition almost no one knows about.

If only a medium attempts to connect to the system, without a controlling operator—the machine operates differently.

It goes into an emergency protocol laid down by its creators.

And then... it begins to destroy the civilization existing on Earth at that moment.

He raised his gaze to me.

— The Nephilim programmed En-zi exactly this way.

They understood they might perish, but they did not want their creation to fall to humans.

Therefore, they made any use of the Soul Eater impossible without their participation.

If the machine senses that a non-Nephilim is trying to control it—it turns its power against the world of men.

Vasilis sighed heavily and added:

— Thus they protected their power... even after their death.

— But unfortunately, — continued Vasilis, shaking his head, — very few understand this.

When people learn about En-zi, almost always the same thing happens to them.

The temptation is too great.

The desire to touch absolute power, the ability to control emotions, inflict pain, subordinate the will of others to oneself—this is the most ancient of all human weaknesses.

He spoke calmly, but something heavy was felt in his voice—experience, knowledge, responsibility.

— At first, a person convinces himself that he wants this power for the sake of good. For the sake of order, for the sake of salvation, for the sake of fixing the world.

But as soon as he begins to approach the solution, as soon as he feels the breath of this machine—everything changes.

Consciousness seems to become infected with something alien.

En-zi is not just a device. It is a mind, ancient and insidious, created by beings who had neither compassion nor conscience.

It senses weakness in a person and, as soon as it finds a breach—enters it.

Vasilis spoke softly, but every word sounded distinct.

— At first, the person thinks he is controlling the machine.

And then realizes—it is controlling him.

En-zi serves no one. He simply waits for his next victim.

Waits for someone to turn him on again to continue what he was created for.

— In ancient manuscripts, — continued Vasilis, lowering his voice, — much is said about the role of the medium.

About those who served as the connecting link between the machine and people.

In all texts, the same thing is repeated: En-zi completely destroys the soul of the intermediary.

He burns it to ashes, leaving only an empty shell—a body that continues to live but no longer belongs to itself.

He fell silent for a second, and the room became especially quiet—only seagulls called to each other beyond the wall.

— That is why, — he said softly, — any attempt by a human to use En-zi for their own purposes is madness.

It is not just danger. It is suicide—spiritual, and then physical.

He raised his eyes, and a barely noticeable gleam flashed in them—a mixture of fear and respect.

— The name of one of the most experienced operators of this complex has reached us, — pronounced Vasilis. —

His name was... Achilles.

He made a short, deliberately theatrical pause.

— Yes, yes, that very Achilles whom ancient Greek myths tell of.

Many think these legends are merely fiction.

But in reality—they are distorted chronicles of real events.

The life of the Nephilim, their intrigues, their alliances, and betrayals—simply transposed into the form of fairy tales understandable to descendants.

I could not restrain myself and leaned forward, feeling a chill run across my skin.

— Achilles, — continued Vasilis, — was not entirely human.

His mother, according to ancient records, belonged to the descendants of the Nephilim, and his father was mortal.

Two natures combined in him—human and celestial, reason and power.

That is precisely why he could control En-zi.

He made a short pause, as if giving weight to what was said.

— His teacher was a certain Chiron, whom later myths described as a centaur—half-man, half-beast.

In reality, this was merely a symbolic distortion—Chiron was one of the last keepers of knowledge about working with the Soul Eater.

He taught Achilles not the art of war, as is commonly thought, but interaction with En-zi.

How to handle this machine, how to direct its energy, how to maintain the connection between worlds.

Vasilis caught his breath and added quietly:

— When Achilles reached the highest mastery, he was given the Key—an artifact that triggers the complex activation process.

It was a small disk of unknown metal—dark, smooth, with engraving in an ancient language specifying the launch protocol.

This disk allowed initiating contact between the controller and the machine.

He looked at me searchingly:

— By all appearances, this Key did not perish along with the ancient civilization.

It was passed from hand to hand, crossed from one culture to another until it was lost in the ages...

But some sources say that it still exists.

My face probably reflected that very expression a sailor has who suddenly sees a sea monster right on course: jaw dropped, eyes wide open. Yes, it was quite a sight.

Suddenly we both laughed involuntarily—laughter seemed to tear us out of the growing heaviness of the conversation and relieved the tension hanging in the room.

Vasilis nodded and, smiling slightly, pronounced: — That is exactly why Zusya sent you here. He forwarded me the map, and I studied it in detail.

Vasilis stood up, walked to the cabinet, and took out a red folder. He unfolded the map and handed me a copy with a neatly marked point. — I think Achilles was buried together with this relic—right here on the island, — he said calmly.

— But if we look at this situation soberly, there is no mysticism here: mechanics, mathematics, programming—the mighty intellect of the Nephilim. No "magic."

He pointed to a small icon on the map and continued: — This disk is that very Key. It can be compared to the ignition key of a locomobile: insert it—and the machine comes to life. Only one difference—this key won't start a steam boiler. It is capable of "starting" all human society. Therefore, it must be found. To understand how it works. And first of all—how to destroy the Soul Eater with its help.

I looked at Vasilis and Ester and said:

— Yes, I have encountered many mentions that En-zi is practically impossible to destroy. Any attempt to disrupt the integrity of its "nerve center" by physical impact triggers the emergency protocol—and the machine kills everything living within the radius of the main and auxiliary system elements. A catastrophe will occur on a scale that even the Plague of Justinian would envy. Therefore, it is completely unclear how it can be destroyed without the death of many innocent people.