Reawakening with Limitless Mana-Chapter 50: Truth?

[Around midnight]

Inside the quiet room reserved for the two boys, one of the beds was already claimed. Kevin lay sound asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He had eaten well at the palace—perhaps a little too well—and it showed in the way he drifted into deep, peaceful slumber.

The other bed, however, remained untouched. A faint breeze slipped through the slightly open window.

Far from the warmth of the inn, in a small, secluded garden surrounded by high stone walls, Arthur stood alone, facing a weather-worn tombstone.

The once-grey stone was smeared with mud, splattered with rotten eggs, and stamped with footprints. It was more of an insult than a monument now.

This grave, though should’ve been sacred by nature, held no reverence.

It was despised.

And rightfully so, at least in the eyes of the people.

Arthur stared at it in silence, emotions swirling inside him in ways he hadn’t expected. For someone who thought himself long detached from the past, the ache in his chest told a different story.

Even after a thousand years, the hatred hadn’t faded.

The marks were fresh. The spit, the filth, the bitter footprints—they hadn’t been there for long. Someone still visited... but not with flowers.

He came here for the first time. To see it ruined. To keep the memory sharp.

To remember what they all felt that day—every race, every nation, every voice united in one emotion: betrayal.

The world had always been divided by borders, beliefs, and blood. But that day... when humanity finally overcame its oldest, deadliest enemy, they stood as one against the man they believed had nearly doomed them all.

Arthur could feel their rage still lingering in the air, as though time had only deepened it.

And yet, despite the weight in his chest, he didn’t blame them.

They saw what he had let them see.

He played the villain.

He made Argrouth believe in him—earned his trust with cruel, heartless acts. And when that trust bloomed into confidence... Arthur shattered it.

He killed him.

The world’s greatest enemy, undone by treachery. His own.

Arthur knelt, brushing a clump of dirt from the cracked stone. His reflection in the marble looked older than his face should allow. Not in years—just in burden.

"Haah..." He exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded. "I hope... I don’t have to use the same tactics again."

Clarsen had been powerless.

But Arthur wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Clarsen never received a blessing. He walked into hell with bare hands and brave words. But Arthur—Arthur was different. He had been chosen by a Goddess. One who didn’t follow the same principles as the others.

She could grant him unimaginable strength.

Of course, not without a price.

But this time, Arthur wouldn’t hide. He wouldn’t play tricks or wait in the shadows. He would confront the Demon Lord head-on.

’I should go back...’ he thought as he turned around, only to freeze.

Someone stood behind him.

Arthur’s breath hitched. Was he really so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed? That was dangerous.

He quickly composed himself. "Why... are you here?"

The red-haired girl stepped forward, arms crossed, her face unreadable.

"Came to see one of the city’s most famous tourist spots," she said with dry sarcasm. "Apparently, this tombstone alone brings in ten percent of the region’s tourism revenue."

Arthur almost chuckled.

Even in death, Clarsen was helping people.

"You shouldn’t be wandering around this late," he warned, slipping his hands into his pockets. He turned, intending to leave.

But her next words stopped him cold.

"Today... is his death anniversary."

Her voice was quiet, and yet it stirred something strange in him. A feeling he couldn’t name.

Still, he didn’t turn back. He kept walking.

Until she said—softly, but clearly—

"And exactly a year later, the one he loved... his fiancée... she died too. Right here. In front of his grave."

Arthur’s steps slowed.

The wind grew still.

And for a moment, it felt like the world held its breath.

"...!" Arthur was stunned.

....he heard her right, right?

Turning on his heel, he looked at the redhead, who knelt before the tombstone and started removing the peels and erased the footmarks using the sleeve of her dress.

She never turned to check if there was someone listening and continued,

"Very few people know about it, that’s why there are stories of how the Lady of Williams family went to seclusion, started a new family, and whatnot. However, the fact is...she couldn’t withstand the truth and continue to live under regrets."

With her voice containing evident relief and slight elation, she added, "In the end, she decided to bring her body and soul to rest...just beside the only man she ever adored-"

"You are lying." Arthur interrupted her, a sense of agitation in his voice, "This...isn’t the truth. No one will ever blame her for what decision she took, so stop relaying false statements."

He has read books and the history dedicated to the few individuals closely connected to the war that occurred a thousand years ago

A few books telling the lie would have been understandable, but all of them?

Grace didn’t argue. She just silently cleaned all the filth, and once she was done, she went to pluck a flower from the nearby flower bed.

"You know what you are doing can land you in prison, right?" Arthur warned. Regardless of who she was, even the Prince would have been punished for this act.

Regardless, Grace didn’t stop and rested the flower on his grave before she finally turned to look at him.

Her eyes were moist, the corner of her lips elevated slightly as the girl said, "It’s your choice, you believe it or not....but it’s a fact that Grace Rahna Williams never allowed her heart to sway. She loved Clarsen, and she will continue to."

Leaving those words behind, she walked away.

There was no clarification, no evidence, however, coming from a girl who looked exactly like Grace...Arthur was forced to think about what she said.

Was there really any truth to what she said?

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A/N:- Thank you for giving my novel a chance.