The Survival of an Inferior

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You have finished reading the diary.

What lies in the diary was a talented man curious about the world. His talents were not shackles and his mind was profound.

As you read the record, you begin to question the world.

Answer the following.
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What is the origin of the world?
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There it is. The bane of every scholar.

After reading the diary, many philosophical questions will pop up which cannot be answered using pragmatic common sense or literature analysis.

The answer is said to be within the diary. However, the diary is just a diary. It simply talks about Carv's experiences but does not show them.

In addition to the super vague open-ended requirements, nobody can solve this, not even me.

That's why no players went for this diary at the initial release of "Elvis Arcane".

But, everything changed when a player on the forum mentioned weird things happening when he left the game on for too long. For example, Rena will die when the player went "afk" for two days and many concluded she died of dehydration(Although I doubt this).

I was curious what would happen if I "afk" in the library while answering the question and thus after five days of "afk". The game suddenly starts to answer the questions itself with elaboration. Assumptions were made that Rena solved it.

I uploaded that solution and that was the start of my fame as an "Elvis Arcane" content creator.

"I miss those days that were simple..." I mumble. 

Anyways, the first question theoretically has no correct answers but the one they need is related to Carv. He was a monstrous man with the talent to copy and master any techniques he see but he lacks creativity and couldn't create an original technique. Therefore, Carv had to improvise. He instead started fusing techniques he learnt to create truly extraordinary techniques.

The answers must be related to that.

That is why the first answer is...

"The feet," I say.

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Correct!
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The origin of the world can be paraphrased into "The start of everything".

And the foundation of every technique is footwork.

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How many heads do twenty people have?
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"One."

Twenty people thinking collectively to improve a technique results in one head.

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Correct!
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What is the colour of the mind?
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"White."

(Author's note: Try to figure out the explanations yourself.)

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Correct!
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What is...
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======================
46 questions later...
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Congratulations!

You are the first person to decipher the diary!

New title: Truth Seeker
+100% training effect
+100% concentration

You have unlocked a function: Skill Fusion.

However, be warned. Fused skills will disappear and the resulting skill is unpredictable.

Fuse at your own risk.
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"Phew..."

Finally!

There is no need to worry about what skill to fuse as I memorised the formula for every skill.

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The diary congratulates the player for their success.

The author hopes you use such power to save mankind and apologises for the burden.
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"Don't worry, I plan to do that."

I leave the library shortly after.

Darkness has already descended. As I walk towards the BOV building, I see someone familiar sitting on a bench next to a lamppost.
Melissa, in her uniform, stares at the ground. She notices me and gets up.

She forces a smile. "H-Hello..."

...

"Hi..."

...

...

Awkward silence raises tension. We stare at each other from a distance.

"Melissa-"

"Arsto, remember the birthday treat I promised? I got a good place, let's go."

"Now? But...I don't think you are..." I say. Her complexion isn't good, there are severe bags below her eyes.

"We can postpone it."

"No." Melissa insists.
"I have a feeling you will be gone tomorrow..." She says.

!

...

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

"Alright."

We walk side by side to the bright city illuminating the void in melancholy. No conversations, only silence. The streets embraced our peace with a cold gentle breeze, carrying packets of whispers and faint aroma of food. Above us, dancing celestial stars reign through the ocean sitting on Rodgof, shining brightly. 

For I have gone through death, this tranquillity soothes my soul. 

The streets, usually teeming with hurried footsteps and the roar of traffic, takes on a serene and calm mood, engrossed by the night.

Melissa stops before a tavern adorned with polished wooden beams and walls of ivory clay. We can hear the astir activity within. 

I follow Melissa in and found an empty table beside a window, it presents a mesmerising canvas of the city beneath the night. Dishes of stew, soup, golden fried fritters, and sizzling hot meat with bowls of salad slips onto our table. 

...

Both of us stare at the food.

...

"Uhm...let's dig in." I say.

Melissa nods and starts chomping the food down. It's surprising one even has such an appetite after that experience though I'm not one to speak...I feel perfectly normal despite the deaths of my colleagues freshly imprinted in my mind.

...

"Tch." I feel irritated by that fact and shove food down my throat. 

The crisps and delight of food are not enough to wash the smell of death. It lingers...around us. 

I glance at Melissa and stop eating. Her once bright eyes, usually filled with warmth and vitality, now seemed empty. Though she attempted to mask her sorrow, traces of grief lingered in the depths of her gaze, betraying the pain she tried so valiantly to conceal. 

"Melissa...it's not your fault," I say.

Without looking at me, she replies softly "What do you mean?" Her voice carries a subtle tremor amidst monotonous frequency. 

"You've tried your best. You've done enough. It's not your fault."

...

She stops eating. "Stop talking nonsense and eat. It's my treat." She says.

...

Odd. My chest hurts with pity. 

I lean forward and brush my hand against her face, swiping across the fringe and she quickly backs off. "What...are you doing?"

"Melissa..."

Her eyes are trembling now that I have a clear view. I walk up to her and hug her head.

"W-What...?"

"It's alright. You can cry, just for today, I won't tell anyone." I say.

"N-No...what...are you..." 

Despite Melissa's reluctance, her body begins to open up. She wraps her arms around my torso and a stream of tears flows. "I-I...I...nghhhh...sniff...nghhhhhhhh."

She cried and cried, embracing my warmth until the food turns cold.