The Kiss of The Deep:: Deadmen's Reach

The Arena's Sponsorship

I sat there, watching the madness unfold before me, my mind spinning with everything I was learning—stuff I should've known, stuff I never even knew existed in this godforsaken city. The screams from the arena, the blood, and the grotesque display of violence were all just part of the show. People torn apart by a giant crustacean, the crowd begging for more. A sick game, all for their entertainment.

And then, as if to add to the madness, a severed eye landed right in my lap. My stomach turned, but before I could react, Lucky Seven, the man in the green suit with the gold-plated eye, pulled us both closer. His arm draped over our shoulders like some kind of twisted mentor.

"Don't worry your little heads," he said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "those idiots went into the arena without a sponsor, meaning no good gear, no guns, no armor, no Cosmic-Stems, no Combat-Stems. Hell, not even basic cash to buy their way out."

I had to ask. I hated feeling like an idiot, but the world he was talking about was far beyond my understanding. "What are Combat-Stems? Or Cosmic-Stems?"

Lucky Seven laughed, but it wasn't a friendly laugh. More like one of those laughs you give when someone says something so absurd you can't believe they don't know better. But when he realized I was serious, his face shifted. He stopped laughing and answered.

"Combat-Stems are body modifications, man. They make you stronger, faster, even push your body beyond normal human limits," he said, scratching his chin. "But the cost? You push yourself too hard, your body's gonna break. Simple as that. It's like turning yourself into a weapon... but if you don't keep yourself in check, you end up a pile of broken bones."

He paused before continuing, "Now, Cosmic-Stems, they're almost the opposite. They give normal humans psychic abilities—telekinesis, pyrokinesis, hydrokinesis, you name it. You could throw fireballs and read minds. Sounds cool, right?" He smiled like he'd just given me the keys to the universe, but the smile didn't sit right with me. "But Cosmic-Stems? They come with consequences. Severe ones. Psychosis, short-term schizophrenia, memory loss. It'll eat you up, but I guess you could call it 'power'."

I felt a knot in my stomach. "Your boss really did shelter you from all this, huh?"

Sheltered? I didn't even know what half this stuff was. My whole life felt like a lie now. I'd been blind, thinking I understood this world. But this... this was something else.

I didn't say anything. What was there to say? I felt like an outsider, a rookie in a city full of predators. The kid—he was no rookie. He knew exactly what was going on. Hell, he probably knew more than Lucky Seven did. A child with more street smarts than I could ever hope to have. How long had he been playing this game, learning these tricks, while I had been living in a damn bubble?

Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, something massive hit the crowd in the arena below us. A giant crab claw flew into the stands, narrowly missing the spectators as they screamed in terror. The crowd went wild, but the sound that followed wasn't fear—it was savage laughter. I glanced down to see a woman, blood-soaked and scarred, standing tall on top of the now-dead sea beast. She was covered in rags, wielding a buzzsaw, and wearing a rusted diving helmet like some kind of monstrous gladiator.

She looked up at us, blood dripping down her face, and gave us a thumbs-up. My stomach churned again, but I forced myself to wave. Lucky Seven patted me on the back with a grin.

"Say hello to your new teammate," he said, pointing to the woman below. "Give her a wave—first impressions are everything. She's Señorita Salvaje. In Spanish, that means Miss Savage." He chuckled darkly. "She's one of the good doctor's experiments. Got pushed too far, and now she's completely off the rails. Not to mention, she's one of the Dunwich family's pets."

Dunwich? That name rang a bell. They were a powerful family, weren't they? Lucky Seven was saying that they were the ones who sponsored Señorita Salvaje. He said something about impressing the Young Duchess, the one who ran this branch of their business. Do that, and suddenly we'd be swimming in money, premium gear, and everything we needed to survive in this bloody city.

"Surviving the arena becomes child's play," Lucky Seven added, a gleam in his eye.

I wanted to ask more about what that meant, but before I could get the words out, he spoke again. "You're probably wondering why I don't sponsor you myself, huh? After all, I seem like a big shot." He leaned in closer, his voice turning cold. "Well, here's the thing. I'm a big fish in a small pond. But if I make too many waves, someone's gonna notice. A fisherman's gonna show up, and I'll be on the hook. So no, I can't just take you in. But you want to survive? You want to thrive in this city? You need the right sponsors."

It all made sense now. Lucky Seven wasn't as untouchable as he acted. He had power, sure, but even someone like him had to be careful not to draw too much attention. This was all a delicate balance, and we were just pawns in a much bigger game.

The kid, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the situation. His gaze was steady, like he'd been through this kind of thing before. I wasn't sure if he was playing the game better than I was, or if he was just too numb to care anymore.

Either way, the decision was made. The kid had his sponsor, and I was along for the ride. And now we had to survive in this hellhole, under the watchful eye of Lucky Seven, and whatever monsters came next.