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"Why did you do it?"
He blinks, noticing Evbo. Death has dulled his mentor's senses.
"My boy," he starts, Evbo wincing at his patronizing tone. "You saw firsthand what racing did-"
"The Evil Champion created a fifth layer," Evbo interrupts. "Why couldn't you do that and put the Villain in there then seal it off?"
The Old Man shakes his head. "The Fighters knew about racing. It would've been too dangerous to leave them and let one of them rise up."
Evbo blinks.
"You sound like the Evil Champion," he tells his mentor, the Champion who's meant to be the best, good. His voice is weak. "You sound like him when he talked about the Noob layer."
Why couldn't you be good, Evbo wants to scream. You're supposed to be better than that, better than everyone else.
Why can't anyone be a decent person?
"This was for the betterment of civilization. Racing wasn't a form of Parkour meant to be harnessed, you understand that."
Evbo barely hears the words.
Of course the bottom layer's sealed off, they're weak, and weakness isn't tolerated. This is for the future of Parkour Civiiization, not like you'd understand that, Noob.
Evbo has to throw up. "Then why didn't you erase it from their memories?" he begs, "You could've done that, you know that you could've done that."
Give me an answer, his tone demands. But the Old Man turns his face away, the only admission of wrong-doing Evbo will receive.
Evbo feels no guilt as he retracts his command, watching the Champion who killed an entire layer without remorse fade away, back into nothing. He feels no better than before.
He turns towards the command blocks, running the outline for resurrection again.
His fingers hover over the letters of Seawatt's name.
Evbo presses enter.