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Evbo found a painting of Seawatt in the ruins of his workplace.
He didn't know who painted it or why. Maybe the corrupt Champion ordered a lot of paintings to be made, and Seawatt ended up in one of them. It was perfectly detailed, capturing his image as if he had never left. As if he wasn't gone.
Parkour Civilization was in the process of rebuilding. EMF's legs often got tired from how many times they had to make the command block jump. Evbo didn't have much to do.
So he made his way through the ruins. Cleaned up places that were forgotten. Searched through every nook and cranny. The only thing still intact here was the painting.
It was provoking him. Seawatt was dead. The Parkour Villain had taken him out first. It was his fault that all of this had happened. He had lured Evbo in, had warmed up to him, had wrapped tight strings around his wrists and had used him like a puppet. And then, right before disappearing, he had dared to imply it hadn't been so simple. That there had been something between them after all.
Evbo detested him. His gut churned with every thought about him and it must've been hatred. If Seawatt was still around, he'd find a way to betray him again.
Evbo snatched the painting from where it was propped up against the wall, slightly battered a dirtied. He stashed it away where only he could find it. He was only preserving history.
As Evbo kept scavenging, his thoughts wouldn't cease bothering him. They shouted about Seawatt. About his shiny hair, dark eyes, cocky smile. It made his chest feel heavy. It must've been hatred.
Evbo ushered the thoughts away, sang them a lullaby, went to EMF instead. His friend was used to him rambling uselessly by now. Neither of them had anything else to do. There were only five skyscrapers. No people. He didn't know what a Civilization was without its people.
He often sat at the edge of it, looking at the sky. The expansive, morbidly beautiful sky. It was bigger than all of them. Older, wiser, terrifying in its eldritch nature. Evbo could drown in it. Evbo could drown in anything at this point.
He learned to meditate. To slow his thoughts, think about nothing. Nothing was safe. Nothing was beautiful in its simplicity. He didn't have worries, obligations, dangers breathing down his neck. Dangers dancing with him under the moonlight, brushing a gentle hand against his face. Dangers dangling his friend over the void. It must've been hatred.
He controlled those urges. He hadn't cried. He told himself he didn't have anything to mourn. If he believed anything hard enough, it was fact. Now, that he was God, he was even more powerful. He could speak facts into existence. Or at least that's what he assumed. The one before him wasn't around to teach him.
Evbo, his thoughts yelled. Evbo, I'm here, you dumbass!
Evbo was meditating. Evbo didn't hear them.
His thoughts groaned. It was a pretty sound. Their voice was a sweet nectar, thick. It would clog people's throats. It would make them do about anything.
I don't understand. Why haven't you brought anyone back yet, why haven't you created life?
Evbo wondered that sometimes. Sometimes, he considered the possibility that he could do it. They were right. But, he didn't know how he would even start. He didn't know anything. He could only spawn blocks, not life.
Evbo stood up, and he got back to work. He had already searched through everything. Now he was sorting it. The painting was on the edge of the pile. Its eyes were glowing a bright, magenta hue. The paints used must've been of good quality.
Something scratched at his back, dug its claws into him. Something grabbed at his shoulder, making him maneuver out of its grip. Something brushed his hair as if wanting to pull it, but missing at the last second. Something desperate, something hungry, something in despair.
Evbo was at work. He vowed to himself to take a break. But with Parkour Civilization in shambles, and EMF sobbing about being unable to rebuild it as quickly as they should, there was nothing to do but take breaks.
He kept his positivity. When he talked to EMF, he smiled. They told him he was the sunshine in their life. It was oddly intimate, it scared him. He was happy when he talked to them. It was mostly an illusion. But he was happy.
When he was alone, it was all gone. He didn't have anything to be positive about. He didn't have a Parkour Ultra God to beat.
Something yanked at his shirt. Something begged him to listen.
He turned around, and a flash of indigo was seen in the corner of his vision before it cleared. There was nothing there.
Evbo, you found a couple of books recently, didn't you? Read them, please read them.
Evbo listened.
He was aware he was hearing things. He was aware he was seeing them. He didn't know why. He chucked it up to a symptom of Godhood. Maybe his ancestors were whispering to him to guide him. He couldn't just ignore his obligations, then.
He read all of the books. It took a while, because the written language of Parkour Civilization was still unfamiliar to him. But he was learning, and he had all the time in the world to learn. Whenever he was stuck, he asked EMF, and they would be glad to help.
The buildings were coming along now. EMF started working on the Pro level. Their designs were reminiscent of the original, but slightly different, changed by memory's shortcomings. They were pleasant.
Evbo found a book about the past God. He found myths, legends. He found passages speaking of how life began. He found how players spawned because God willed them to. God searched for them, pulled them out of the vast nothingness, seeing something in them that the human eye couldn't.
Evbo was inspired. So this was what the voice was talking about. He could create life. He had to create life. He couldn't stand the emptiness anymore.
It took a while, but Evbo had a lot of whiles to give. He did it. He spawned a player, and then another, and another. It exhausted him at first, but not when he got used to it. EMF was nervous, shocked, but delighted. They finally had someone to take care of. There was finally a Civilization. The homes wouldn't be empty anymore. Evbo felt alive for the first time since-
The painting stared at him, from where he put it up on the wall. He claimed one of the houses. He didn't have anywhere else to go. He could float through the air, and dissolve into existence, but he needed a home. He wanted to have somewhere he could hide.
He took the painting with him. It was only so that no one else would find it. Seawatt shouldn't be remembered. It must've been hatred that made him drag it there. He brushed the dust off it, cleaning its surface delicately. Its eyes were glaring at him, intense.
Something tapped his side. Something ran their fingers through his hair. Something took his hand and made him look at it.
Evbo saw something. He saw it for a brief moment before it flickered away. He saw wavy hair cascading down their face. He saw a crown, decorated with jewels. He saw it, but it wasn't there.
Evbo, they called him. They pulled him forth. Good job, but you missed something.
Evbo looked around the room. He felt air brush his chin. As a God, sensations couldn't bother him anymore, but he noticed it had gotten frigid.
Look in the book again. There's something else you can do with life, hm? It beckoned him with a cheeky grin. Its eyes narrowed with mirth. It left a familiar annoyance bubbling up inside him.
Evbo brushed them aside. What a needy voice. He was having a break. He was hiding. Every day, it got louder. Every day, he swore he saw someone. Something was draping down his back. Something was watching him, following him. After everything, he couldn't help but doubt their wisdom. He snuck a glance at the painting. Yeah, he couldn't help but find it fishy.
Evbo listened to them after a bit. Their begging had gotten irritating. He just wanted them to get off his case. But there was something they wanted, and Evbo would never know peace until they had it.
He read the book again. He stopped at the chapter about life and death. He skimmed the part about the afterlife until he stopped. He went over it again.
The gears in Evbo's brain turned. He stared at the paragraph. God could bring back life, and ensured respawns could happen, as long as there was a spawn point. The Parkour Villain had destroyed the old spawn point. If Evbo didn't make a new one, and someone fell, they would be gone. Just like-
This had to be it. The voice was after this. They had good thinking, because Evbo hurriedly teleported to the Noob layer to complete it. He heard a sigh, but it could've been the wind.
Once he made the spawn point, everything was right. Now, their people were safe. EMF was happy when he announced it to them, despite berating him for not thinking of it earlier. Sometimes, they got a look in their eyes. An impressed look. A look that told him they would always be at his disposal. As a worshipper, as a dear friend. It made him go back to his hiding place.
He expected the voice to go quiet, to finally be satisfied. But they weren't. They were booming, bouncing off the walls of his skull. He winced. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they were upset.
You didn't listen, he heard. Of course you would misunderstand me, they shouted.
Evbo. Evbo. Evbo. They wouldn't stop nagging, wouldn't stop yelling.
Evbo's gaze searched for the painting. For a moment, it looked scarily realistic. It was like Seawatt was there, furious at him. But when he blinked it was back to normal. Evbo would speak to the painting like it could hear him, tell it about his day like a mourning man, but he refused to. He wasn't grieving. He hated Seawatt.
You idiot, look at me. You can resurrect people! You can bring them back! It screamed in his ear.
Evbo saw him. He saw Seawatt, standing next to him. He saw him floating there like a ghost. Like an angel watching over him. But he wasn't there.
"Fine, I hear you, I hear you," Evbo muttered back. He hoped they could hear him, because his eardrums were about to explode. "Just please stop shouting."
If anyone else could see him, he would have looked insane. Maybe not. Godhood was a good excuse. But EMF would've been worried nonetheless. He was grateful for his skyscraper.
The voice obliged, quieting down to a hushed whisper. It brushed his hair. It pressed against his fingertips. It held him like something precious.
Sweetness, I know it's hard to think with your empty head. But if you can respawn people who are here, what about...?
Evbo had an epiphany. He could reverse the damage the Parkour Villain had done. He could bring back the people who were wrongfully harmed, could right the villain's wrongs. It was perfect. He felt renewed, reinvigorated by his purpose.
He got to work.
Evbo had to parse through a lot of lines of invisible code before he figured out how it worked. It took hours, days of mere thinking. He grew a new appreciation for EMF's efforts. This was exhausting.
Then, he brought back the first victim.
Their appearance wasn't important. They had unruly hair. They were panicking when they came back to themselves. Evbo patted their shoulder and told them they were safe. He smiled comfortingly. But his happiness wasn't an illusion. He worked hard on this, and it paid out. He couldn't wait to bring back everyone else.
Turned out, finding the old death messages that contained vital information was difficult. Every new venture was different from the last. The code felt like a living, breathing thing. It shifted and twisted in front of his bloodshot eyes.
He revived three people that day. He would continue, but he couldn't. EMF found him and shut down his efforts before he could argue for them. He was left with a mug of something hot and sweet and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, left on their cushioned diamond throne. He was frustrated with EMF, but he couldn't complain about the luxury.
Evbo sighed, sinking into the warm embrace. He would work on it more tomorrow. God didn't need sleep, but he slept sometimes. It was comfortable, it reset his worries and tribulations. Sometimes, when he woke up, his head was clear, and he could finally figure out what had been bothering him the day before.
Evbo missed when he could enjoy the sensation of falling asleep any day. Despite the fact he had been starving, he had been happy, he could sleep. His train of thought lulled into silence. His consciousness slipped.
You did so well. You're getting close. Sleep now, Evbo, they whispered to him. It clouded his brain. He felt fuzzy. A lovely tingle crawled down his spine.
Evbo woke up to the sun burning him up. He didn't mind, not for most of the morning, but now it was getting ridiculous. An average person would have been in a pool of sweat by the time he jumped up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Briefly, he wondered where EMF went. Before remembering they told him they'd crash at his place. He shrugged. He had to get to work.
As Evbo revived people. Every new individual made an itch on the back of his neck grow. No matter how hard he scratched, it stayed there. He wondered the extent of who he could bring back. He wondered if-
Evbo shook his head. Just the thought of Seawatt made him uneasy. It must've been hatred. He would never bring him back.
Something slapped him upside his head. Hey, the code. It's running away from you, airhead.
Evbo wondered if he was right in his assumptions about the voice. They couldn't be a predecessor. They weren't wise enough for that. They were smart, but they didn't speak with authority. They treated him like something equal. They acted like they knew him.
"Who are you?" He said out loud.
The voice staggered, and the cold calmly enveloping him took a step back. What's it to you? It asked suspiciously.
"I don't know. You're just... You're not one of the previous Parkour Gods, are you?"
They laughed. It was sharp, it needled him. You're funny, Evbo. They took a moment to calm themself. He felt a presence on his right shoulder. I'm no one important. Don't worry your little head over it.
Evbo fought the smile breaking out on his face. He didn't know why he would do that. It felt natural to do so around them. "Will I ever find out?"
You will.
Evbo couldn't pretend anymore. He couldn't keep ignoring it. Not when the painting was staring at him. Not when he brought it inside his home. He cursed his past self.
Evbo swore he hated him, he swore he didn't have a single affectionate thought about him left. But... it pulled at him. The guilt, the yearning feeling stabbing his heart. He hated him, but he missed him. He hated him, but he kept seeing him everywhere he looked.
Evbo was losing it. He was hearing things. He was seeing things. He was talking to spirits. When he asked EMF if they ever experienced something like that, they looked at him like he was crazy. They looked at him like he was something broken. He pulled at his hair, relishing in the pain. He rarely felt pain anymore.
Something held his hand, weakening his grip. Something held his head to its chest.
Evbo snapped out of it. He waved his arms in the air, turning around wildly until he got the presence off him. "Leave me alone," he snarled. "I don't need you right now."
Evbo, it simply said. Evbo, it cried out.
"What..." He took a shaky breath in. There was no use in freaking out. "What do you want?"
It's me, Evbo. When it said that, his eyes flew to the painting. There was something blocking it. There was a person.
Seawatt. Seawatt was standing in front of him. His skin was greyish, devoid of all its color. The darkness around his eye was smudged, it was spreading. He looked hollowed out. He looked a mess. He looked like he crawled right out of the coffin the Parkour Villain put him in.
"Seawatt?" He uttered in disbelief. He had to have been hallucinating by this point. Seawatt had been long gone.
It's me. It was always me. The voice explained. And it came right out of Seawatt's mouth.
He could hear it, now. He could see it. Seawatt guiding him by the hand purposefully. Those saccharine words falling from his tongue. He could hear the tone of his voice. He could hear his confident laughter. Evbo didn't see it before, because he didn't let himself, but he saw it now.
Evbo took a step forward. "You're... not real." He could barely speak, with how cloudy his vision had gotten. Seawatt's form warped and fizzled in front of him.
Not really. I guess I am. But I am still dead, man. Seawatt shrugged.
"You were the one talking to me the whole time?"
Of course it was me. What did you think? That your dear old God was around to help you, that He would even care?
Evbo shook his head. When he blinked, Seawatt was still there. "No, I- Well, yeah." Seawatt snickered at him condescendingly. "You don't have to make fun of me for it!" Evbo fell into their old patterns easily. But he couldn't shake the shiver from his body.
Seawatt's hands, brushing his skin. Seawatt's hands, an ever-present comfort.
It's a shame though, your sad little face made me reveal it before you could bring me back. Seawatt's finger was tracing his jawline. Evbo could feel it. Oh, he felt it.
"Bring you back?" Evbo wondered.
That's what I've been trying to get you to do this entire time, haven't you realized?
Evbo thought he would be happy to be reunited with his family. Well, the books didn't describe the afterlife in any sort of detail. He didn't know what it was like. He didn't know why Seawatt was here. "But... How did you even find me? Why isn't any other spirit here?"
I don't know. I really don't. Seawatt professed. Even though he knew more about Evbo's Godhood than Evbo himself. I appeared before you. I'm chained to you. It was getting tiring, having to follow you around.
Evbo wanted to ask. He wanted to know; why him? But he was afraid of the answer. The answer seemed more dangerous than he could handle.
Seawatt, brushing his hair faintly. Seawatt, embracing him as he was working.
Evbo wasn't sure if that was a question he could ask yet.
"Fine," Evbo said with finality. "I will bring you back."
Seawatt was charmed by the fact Evbo listened to him. He patted him on his shoulder approvingly. Evbo knew he had fallen right into his hands. He knew Seawatt wanted this from him, and he would throw him aside once he had it. But he couldn't help it. Seawatt was happy. It was a captivating sight.
When he saw his name. When he typed it into the command. When Seawatt disappeared from next to him, his body lay limp on the ground before him for a moment before he winced. Before he sat up, meeting Evbo's eyes.
There was blood running down Seawatt's chin. Sometimes, people would come back with leftovers. They'd throw up the blood left behind by the parkour battle that killed them. The ones who died to the void had an advantage when it came to that.
Evbo realized that he loved him.
Seawatt stood there, waiting for him to do something. Evbo threw himself forward, locking him in a tight hug. Seawatt sniffed and complained about how gross he was. But he was there. He was back, and Evbo didn't hate him. Maybe he got manipulated so well that the effects kept their hold, but he didn't hate him. Seawatt rubbed his back.
Later, Seawatt would sob and say it still hurts. Later, Seawatt would tell him he latched onto him on purpose. Later, he'd find out that he was too frightened by the thought of death. That he had pretended to accept it, but he didn't. He was the last thing left of his family's legacy and he had failed.
Later, later, later.
Now, Evbo would take him to his new home and wipe the blood from his face carefully. They would share a hidden smile once they caught sight of the painting. And he would have to leave to give EMF a heads up. Just in case they ever crossed paths and EMF felt like taking Seawatt out with a clean 360.