At last, Ridge broke free from the monotony of Haven. He was there on a casual visit, intent on making history. As for being the first Havenian civilian to visit the Outdoors, it was more likely to be someone else—someone who died by one of the risks that dwelled in Nevah. There were never rumors circulating around Haven about a crazy person escaping. Not even a theory about a Havenian lunatic breaking out of their home. There had never been lunatics to begin with. What was Ridge thinking? If that happened, they would have changed the exit and hidden it elsewhere. And if it had ever happened without anyone's knowledge, that unlucky soul would be just that—unlucky. Fortunately, Ridge had his Riskometer. Whoever dared to do what he was doing would need it. Without it, they'd be up a creek without a paddle.

   Nevanese land was filled with red sand, almost everywhere. Ridge tried touching it, but the sand was so granular that even a feathery touch could crush it. He had found a body of water nearby to wash the mud off his face. The water was surrounded by the same basalt rocks, except these were covered in moss. It stretched to a point Ridge couldn't quite make out. He made a mental note to visit that point later. He had stumbled across Nevah's geology during a Topography lesson in real life application, so he knew it was a river. That book that had taught him... it was a rabbit hole, to say the least. He had gotten so invested in it that his parents had to distract him by showing him the rain zeppelin he had invented, which was launched in Falcon Plaza. He was young, the Plaza was young, and his fascination with visiting Nevah and becoming an "Innovative Havenian Hero" was young too. Some things grow up, others just pass away. That had been when he was in the Marginal Coverts Wing with his family, before moving to the Academy in the Secondary Coverts Wing at age 11. He chuckled at the memory of his parents' reactions when the automaton announced his early enrollment.

   Ridge smiled as he rinsed the mud from his face. It reeked of dirt and soot, but still, it was new and refreshing. The smell reminded him of the steam he had encountered before—yes, back in the government manor in Alula, when he stood in front of the printer. Or even the burnt odor of academic sheets before they turned into cashews. The only difference was that the mud smell was natural. It felt authentic, in the truest sense.

   The waters of the river, as Ridge continued to cup them, reflected the pinkish-red sand and the yellow-brown hues of the sky. It wasn't like the quaint, azure sky of Haven—or the ceiling. Here, it was coated in butterscotch with clouds of accentuated whites. Ridge liked seeing the sky clear of blimps and robotic falcons. To his surprise, there was no celestial body in the sky, leaving it a greasy red. He quickly deduced that the atmosphere here was thick, and the only celestial body visible was the shared sun from the Diurnal Bridge. Ridge looked at the Diurnal Bridge from afar, planted firmly into the ground, opposite Haven. The sun was sinking gradually through Haven. Over there, where the sun shone, the sky was a perfect blue. He wondered if only half of the sky exposed to the sun was that cerulean.

   Ridge turned his attention toward the Riskometer standing on the riverbank. So far, he had only dealt with a tumbleweed that could have pricked him. Naturally, he'd taken care of it to keep himself safe. He could have sworn that tumbleweed had been ganging up on him. It wasn't as if he was doing what he'd originally set out to do—becoming the "Innovative Havenian Hero." Looking back, that mouthful of a title would've been annoying anyway. He had originally thought of something else tied to his role as a risk eliminator, but that would've sounded too antagonistic. Ridge snorted and grabbed the Riskometer as he stood up. He'd never dreamed of becoming a villain. Villains were the ones who allowed risks to dwell in Thear, be they human or natural. He just had to use the Riskometer to pave his way to safety—and freedom—in the Outdoors.

   Ridge rubbed the Riskometer's sphere carefully. He hadn't yet fully grasped how to handle such a device. Yes, he admitted, it was a weapon. But it was a weapon for noble causes, not for personal gain or for being more liberated than everyone else in Thear.

   Keeping his eyes trained on the clear river, Ridge walked alongside it in hopes of reaching somewhere. He had about an hour before returning to Haven. Falcon Plaza only became flooded with people after 10 a.m. Ridge knew he wouldn't be able to explore every nook and cranny of Nevah in less than a day. His plan was to continue these nocturnal outings until he had roamed every spot in Nevah.

   The first visit had already been a breakthrough, so the next visits would be about breaking through not only Haven's barriers but his work back home as well. As an industrial machinery mechanic, of all things.

   Ridge's eyes narrowed at the river as he continued trudging along its bank. The water was growing murkier and murkier. He felt the Aptem pocketwatch under his jacket. There was no pulsation. Ridge moved the Riskometer around, never tearing his eyes away from the river as he noticed plastics flowing through the waters. Just then, he felt the pocketwatch pulse. Because he had diverted his attention to the pocketwatch, he didn't notice the huge pile of fish bones he tripped over. He quickly regained his balance, avoiding a fall into the marshy ground. He decided to break into a full sprint.

   The pocketwatch struck 44 riskons. (XLIV r-kons: bigger hand at 44 minutes, smaller hand fixed on the hour in Haven.)

   Just as the terrain turned to quagmire and a stench reached his nostrils, he heard a snap.

   Ridge flinched, looking up from the pocketwatch. He stopped in his tracks. The terrain in front of him was harsh, if it could be described in one word. Just ahead, there was a cave with boulders barricading its opening, mounted through the dark river. A lone cave, which was strange because Ridge had always thought caves were found in mountains. He sniffed the air, filled with sulfur and another malodorous smell he couldn't quite identify.

   Another snap and a low growl echoed from within the cave. Ridge squared his shoulders, his eyes wide open, as he watched the boulders shift. A few hurtled down violently into the river, sending dirty droplets splashing toward Ridge and the Riskometer. He wiped the device with the lapel of his shirt as he kept his eyes peeled on what was emerging from the cave. He instinctively hunched over, watching the silhouette of a figure—now two figures, one smaller than the other—emerge. Was this his first encounter with a Nevanese person?

   Suddenly, the smaller figure darted toward him, moving much faster than the larger one. It was a small, furry creature with a hammer-like tail, gnashing its teeth as it sprang at Ridge. It got menacingly closer.

The pocketwatch struck 55 riskons. (LV r-kons)

   The snow particles in the Riskometer vibrated with unease, and Ridge gritted his teeth, preparing to eliminate the new risk. He pointed the Riskometer at the creature while backtracking. The clock tower in the device locked onto the fast-moving, sharp-teethed creature. Just then, the larger figure stepped into the dim light of the sinking sun, appearing more humane and less ferocious than the smaller one. An old man made his appearance clear as day. He was clad in a waterproof vest and fleece gloves, a long leash-like rope with a hook at the end attached to it. His green fisherman's hat sat snugly atop his messy white hair. Eerily, he wore charms of bones, with the lower jaw of what appeared to be a real skull covering his own jawline. His baggy pants were soaked, looking heavy and cumbersome to walk in. His beige, blood-stained shirt, patched in places, had puffed-out sleeves that matched the drenched pants. The attire was unlike anything Ridge had ever seen, except perhaps in the museum he visited about pirates in the Primaries Wing. Ridge's forehead and neck began to perspire. He glanced at the pocketwatch as the snow particles died down.

   The pocketwatch struck 21 riskons. (XXI r-kons)

   The old man's face was flushed red as he dragged his feet, finally landing out of the thick river. He towed the creature by its tail, shaking it while snarling, "What did I say about pouncing on human bones?"

   Ridge was too stunned to speak, just watching the old man and the creature with an open-mouthed expression. He couldn't even laugh at the absurdity of the situation, or the fact that he had just survived his first near-death experience—in Nevah, and in Thear.

   The old man held the creature by its crook and draped it over his shoulder like it was some ragged piece of clothing. His scrunched-up face remained fixed, and his eyes moved to Ridge. Ridge felt the old man's glassy gaze strike a chord within him. The old man was a living paradox: his ill eyes and redness amplified his naturally grumpy expression, but the rest of his body was indistinguishable from a young man who worked tirelessly without breaking a sweat. Not knowing how to respond, Ridge tipped the Riskometer slightly, adjusting his ruffle as he eyed the man curiously. "Thanks for catching that before I could've turned into human bones."

   The old man sneered, his eyes slowly scanning Ridge from head to toe. His gaze lingered specifically on the Riskometer in Ridge's hand. He held onto the brim of his hat and tilted his head. "Ya one of those rovers?"

   Ridge hummed, nodding slowly. He smirked faintly, thinking, No pleasantries? Just straight to the point? Looks like Nevanese people are more efficient than Havenians, though they are rash. "Yes, I'm one of those rovers."

"Whatever ya think yar doing here, do it, but don't even tickle a fish bone. All the fish are mine to catch." The old man dropped the creature as it whimpered around his begrimed sandals.

"Yes, the fish. And by that, you mean the risky lot?" Ridge wagged his finger at the old man as he enquired that, his intentions based on using the Riskometer. He could save the man and his pet's lives. Perhaps they— or the old man— will grant him something if he helps them get the work done more efficiently. Something that will conceal Ridge's foreign appearance.

   The old man laughed dryly, "Oh, very risky. Six ways till Sunday. I tell ya, kid."

   "Well, I can help. From a rover to a fisher, yes?"

   "I'm no fisher," the old man huffed. "I'm much more valuable than that."

   "Well then, what are you?"

   The old man sneered and flexed his flabby yet muscular arms. "An animal hunter, kid! I'm Roderick Sutoh. And trust me when I tell ya that the sound of even my nickname Rod makes animals' skins crawl!" He nudged at the creature with his foot and stared at it expectantly. "Just look at Tonks!" The creature pretended to whimper apprehensively while curling its hammer tail around itself.

   Ridge quirked a brow. "Roderick and Tonks? In Haven, they would be Rodriguez and Tony. Even the names here are rash. And great, a hunter on the first outing. That's a handful, but it is something thrilling at least."

   Roderick picked up a spear from the riverbank and sighed as he ogled at it. He found the mud on it captivating. He glanced at the cave opening surrounded by the remaining boulders and gestured towards it with his spear, speaking slowly, "How can a young, puny rover like ya help me with my hunting?"

   Ridge exhaled through his nostrils as he covered the stand of the Riskometer until it was out of Roderick's sight. It was a relief that Nevanese people are not skeptical like Havenians. If he was from Haven, he would have started an interrogation on the spot, specifically trying to make sense of Ridge's motive.

   "I can suck the fish into this sphere by means of..." Ridge tried to be as logical as possible, but he remembered that it was a Nevanese he was dealing with. He continued smilingly, "whirlpools. I managed to get my hands on one of those and trapped one in this sphere." Ridge let out a chortle and held up the Riskometer, only showing the sphere, "You seine the risky fish, and I suck them—"

   "Ya suck risky fish?" Roderick gave Ridge the stink-eye while scratching his mandible-geared jawline with the haft of the spear.

   Ridge wagged his finger at Rod while saying, "I mean I suck them into the sphere. Like siphoning them."

   Roderick let out a gravelly sound of understanding. "Gotcha, kid. Do ya want any reward if I do let you hunt with me and Tonks?"

   "Ah, good question. I've thought about a reward, and..." Ridge tried to be as tactful as possible, but he remembered that it was a Nevanese he was dealing with. Were all of them like this? He smiled determinedly and said bluntly, "I want to keep some of your clothes and equipment to myself. That'd be the reward."

   Roderick's glassy eyes widened, and they flickered between Ridge and Tonks, who was on the verge of sleep as it nodded off on his sandal. Roderick grumbled while pointing at Ridge with the spear, "Keep yar hands to yourself, I tell ya! They are mine."

   Ridge raised his hands as if to tame the old man, "I mean spare ones, Roderick."

   Roderick scratched the mandible with his spear again, this time his red face wrinkling in thought. Ridge suppressed a laugh of disbelief. Nevanese people think? He shook his head, "No can do, kid. I'm afraid this is my only set of clothing and my equipment are too precious to be handed to rovers. And anyway, I don't need ya and yar invention. I've my net to seine the risky fish." He scoffed and poked Tonk's sleeping head with the spear. "Ways of hunting is a bone of contention anyway. Who said I agree with yar weird sucking into sphere way?"

   "You don't have to buy the idea of my sphere, and you need some help, surely! A net will not be enough. I can help you spare yourself some work. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. How about you let me just for once? You can see if I'm good at hunting or not, and if I'm not and my intentions are of theft as you think they are, then you and Tonks can—"

   The pocketwatch pulsated against his chest. He caught a hold of it while cradling the stand with his arm so it was still concealed and furrowed his brows.

   The pocketwatch struck 50 riskons. (L r-kons)

   Ridge tried to foresee the danger lying ahead as he looked around analytically. Roderick cocked his head at the fast-working fan mechanism of a man. To the old man, it reminded him of the tail of a swimming fish since he did not know what a fast-working fan mechanism was. He blinked at the Riskometer as the snow particles defied gravity on their own. To the old man, it reminded him of how the wind picks up leaves off the ground since he did not know what gravity was. He stupefyingly scratched his mandible with the spear as he watched Ridge step back. His steps were slow and deliberate, like the ticking of a clock or a regular pocketwatch. To the old man, it reminded him of raindrops during a spring eve.

   "Why did ya clam up, kid?" Just then, a skeletal fish catapulted from the murky waters of the river. It was bigger than Tonks and seemed to have a pointed triple tail. It had wings for fins and an unhinged jaw. It lunged at Roderick, who was caught off guard as he turned around to meet his doom. The spear dropped from his hand with a clang as he too dropped dead with a choked-up and gravelly yell, the fish digging its venomous tongue into his back. Tonks, awakened and already in the heat of the moment, growled and leapt at the fish, only for it to skydive into the river, never to be seen again amid the murkiness and depths of the water.

   The pocketwatch struck 54 riskons. (LIV r-kons)

   "Since when did fish have tongues?" Ridge's heart was at his throat as he watched Roderick's back bleed nonstop. There were cracking sounds coming from his spine as the fish feasted on his bones. He gritted his teeth as he pointed the Riskometer at the terrifying fish. He shook it clockwise and activated the clocktower. Systematically, the beam shone from the clocktower through the sphere and onto the fish. The fish let out a gurgled sound as it shrieked from the pulling of the beam, and into the Riskometer it went.

   The pocketwatch struck 8 riskons. (IIX r-kons)

   Ridge let out a breath he did not know he was holding. He ruffled his hair as he knelt down beside Roderick's corpse. Blood stopped spraying from his back and was seeping out like molasses from a crack in a bottle.

   "That's the fate of a headstrong hunter who's pushing his seventies." Ridge smirked as he set the Riskometer on the ground and rolled up his sleeves. He rolled his shoulders with the bronze shoulder plates and got his hands on Roderick's clothes. He ripped out a patch from his shirt and tore a piece from his pants. Harshly, he grabbed Roderick's heavy head by the hair and lifted it, peering at it with visible disgust. It was naturally red and reddened even more by the red sand. His eyes were whitened, and the mandible somehow did not break. Ridge clicked his tongue and muttered in Roderick's ear, "Good riddance to a fool like ya," while removing the mandible. He chucked the head back onto the ground aggressively. He then finished by taking out one of his ragged sandals and carrying everything while walking away until he was a mile away from Roderick's body and the spear. After arranging them messily on the ground, he speed-walked to the Riskometer. He picked it up before pointing it at the pile of the remnants of Roderick's attire. He clutched the pocketwatch with his other hand.

   The pocketwatch struck 2 riskons. (II r-kons)

   "If Rod was 21 riskons with his clothes, and his clothes are only 2 riskons, that made him 19 riskons... which is a lot for any human, as far as I know." Ridge scoffed as he retreated back to Roderick's body. He towered over it as he looked down at the lifeless, muscular body. "It is just- I am 0 riskons. Can humans really be that risky?"

   Ridge's dignity held him back from undressing Roderick and stealing his clothes. Only the first part, though. He intended to keep the clothes and equipment to himself, including the weird mandible accessory. He knew the wise thing to do while visiting Nevah more and more was to look like a Nevanese. He was not sure about Roderick's status, and the old man did not have anything that shed light on his identity. Unlike Havenians, the Nevanese did not have any societal connections whatsoever, which Ridge really respected. He wished he lived in a society where everyone could choose whether they wanted to live with others or by themselves.

   Ridge ended up putting the sandal and mandible back on Roderick before taking out from his pocket and sprinkling Riskomifiers on his body. These tiny cashew crumbs were created to amplify the target object's riskiness, as only an object over 50 riskons could get sucked into the Riskometer. They could run out, so Ridge had to use them sparingly and wisely.

   Ridge proceeded to shake the Riskometer clockwise and got rid of his whole corpse, clothes and all. He then rotated the hand of the pocketwatch until it struck 2 riskons. Instantaneously, the same beam shone out and sent the clothes, sandal, and mandible flowing until they rested in the same spot where Roderick had been.

   Ridge smirked and wagged his finger at the clothes while stooping down to set the Riskometer back down. "I will just try you on, not lead you on like I did with your previous owner."

   With that said, Ridge changed into Roderick's clothes. He even replaced his boots with the raggedy sandals and put on the mandible jaw accessory, much to his discomfort. Luckily, the shirt fit him well enough (though it was a tad bit loose), and the baggy pants were not as heavy as they looked. He obviously kept the shoulder plates on over the shirt; they provided counterbalanced load, as the weight was tremendous yet made Ridge lag behind.

   With his clothes lying on the ground far from the river, Ridge picked up both the spear and Riskometer before walking over to the cave. He squeezed through the gap between the boulders until he was inside the cave. It was hollow, as he expected, and had nothing much besides the ominous darkness of the river and red sand. He did make out a net by the riverbank, which he took to be Roderick's equipment.

   "That's his only equipment? Lousy." Ridge let his thoughts echo through the cave as he placed the spear on top of the net after inspecting it. The net, the cave, and the river were all reminiscent of the Lema twins, Ab and Und. Ridge pursed his lips as he remembered finding out how the governors detained them. He then shrugged as he sprinkled the Riskomifiers on the equipment before sucking them into the Riskometer; he remembered how he would not be needing them anymore.

   Thinking he could pretend to be the hunter Roderick was, Ridge called his first outing ever in Nevah off and scampered back to the Diurnal Bridge with his clothes and boots put back on. He pressed the button disguised as an activating button on his shirt and had the propeller tool fly back to him from the moon. As always, Ridge smirked while opening the secret underground vent. Climbing down the ladder, the realization that he was going again as an undercover Havenian dawned on him. Good riddance to the pining for visiting the Outdoors. He would not miss Nevah. He would not need to. He was going to revisit Nevah until every place was walked by Ridge.