Theo reached the cliff's edge, where the world simply ended.
The drop was staggering, a vertical abyss that seemed to swallow the very concept of ground. From this height, the Convergence Waters were invisible, hidden beneath the veil of mist and shadow at the island's base, but their presence was unmistakable—a low-frequency hum that vibrated in his molars.
To his right, the great waterfall that fed from the agricultural district's irrigation overflow roared with a deafening, relentless fury. It was white, continuous, and utterly indifferent to the broken man standing on its precipice.
Theo stood at the edge and stared into the void.
He had been a reincarnator for three years in this world and a man for twenty-six years in the last. His previous life had been a mediocre tragedy, the story of a man who existed in the perpetual 'almost.'
