The uniformed human leads me through a series of gleaming corridors, the metallic walls occasionally transparent, revealing glimpses of other facilities, training rooms where enhanced humans demonstrate devastating powers, medical labs where unconscious subjects undergo procedures, and even what appears to be a miniature arena where two Ascendants battle while aliens observe from elevated platforms.

  "I'm Handler Kress," the uniformed man states without looking back at me. "I oversee the integration of new subjects into the facility. You'll report directly to me until you're assigned a permanent sponsor."

  We enter an elevator that descends rapidly, my stomach lurching with the speed. When the doors open, they reveal a sprawling residential sector. Unlike the clinical laboratories above, this area attempts a simulation of human living conditions, albeit with an alien aesthetic. The lighting has a bluish tint, and the architecture features unnaturally perfect curves and angles.

  "Domicile Block C houses mid-tier prospects," Kress explains. "Your initial testing results were promising enough to bypass the quarantine blocks. Consider yourself fortunate."

  As we walk, I notice other enhanced humans in their quarters. Some exercise using equipment designed to challenge their abilities, others study holographic displays, and a few simply stare blankly at walls, their expressions vacant.

  "Each domicile is equipped with monitoring systems," Kress continues. "Your vitals, power fluctuations, and mental states are constantly assessed. Privacy is a privilege earned through advancement."

  We stop at a door marked with alien symbols and what I recognize as my designation number: 7249. Kress places his hand against a scanner, and the door slides open to reveal a small but functional living space, a bed, sanitation unit, and what appears to be a rudimentary kitchen area.

  "Your training regimen begins at 0600 hours. Food will be delivered based on your metabolic requirements. This tablet-" Kress hands me a thin, translucent device, "-contains your schedule and basic facility information. Don't attempt to access restricted areas; the consequences are... severe."

  Kress turns to leave but pauses in the doorway. "One more thing, 7249. The aliens call this program 'Ascendant,' but don't be fooled by the grandiose title. You're an investment, nothing more. Perform well, and your conditions improve. Fail, and you'll be repurposed for less prestigious functions."

  The door slides shut behind him, leaving me alone in my new quarters. The tablet activates automatically, displaying a rotating 3D model of the facility with my location highlighted. A countdown timer indicates that my first training session begins in eight hours.

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  I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the strange energy of my new powers tingling beneath my skin. The reality of my situation settles in—abducted, enhanced, and now being prepared for combat in alien gladiatorial games.

  Through the wall, I can hear faint sounds of someone in the adjacent domicile—perhaps crying, perhaps laughing. It's hard to tell. The true nature of humanity's enslavement is becoming clearer with each passing moment.

  The solitude of my quarters provides the perfect opportunity to explore my newfound abilities. I stand in the center of the room, feeling the telekinetic energy humming beneath my skin like a living current.

  I start simply, focusing on the tablet Kress provided. It rises smoothly from the bed, hovering at eye level. I rotate it with my mind, testing precision control. I discover I can manipulate objects with increasing subtlety—opening the tablet's interface, swiping through screens without physical contact.

  Next, I test my strength. The bed frame, though secured to the floor, groans as I mentally apply pressure. With concentrated effort, the metal begins to bend slightly. Sweat beads on my forehead as I push harder, feeling the limitations of my current power.

  I move to speed training, throwing the tablet into the air and catching it before it falls—first with my hands, then with my telekinesis alone. Each repetition becomes faster until the tablet appears to hang suspended while I move around it with supernatural quickness.

  My body feels different, muscles responding with perfect coordination, reflexes operating at speeds that make normal movement seem sluggish by comparison. When I jump, I nearly hit the ceiling. When I punch the air, it creates an audible displacement of wind.

  So, I’m stronger, faster, and I have telekinetic powers? I can’t help but smile despite being in a glorified jail.

  Combining my abilities proves most interesting. I discover I can telekinetically enhance my strength, creating a protective field around my fist while delivering a punch that leaves a small dent in the metal wall. I quickly smooth it out, not wanting to attract attention for damaging facility property.

  As I practice, I notice something unexpected. The more I use my powers, the more they seem to develop, as if the abilities are learning alongside me. What starts as crude lifting becomes nuanced manipulation; what begins as enhanced speed evolves into near-teleportation across short distances.

  Hours pass as I push myself, discovering new applications. I can create a telekinetic shield that might deflect attacks. I can focus my power into precise points for maximum impact. I can even levitate myself briefly, though maintaining this proves particularly draining.

  When exhaustion finally overtakes me, I collapse onto the bed, muscles aching but my mind exhilarated. The power flowing through me is intoxicating, an incredible rush unlike anything in my former life as a nobody with a dead-end job anymore.

  As sleep approaches, a sobering thought crosses my mind: these abilities were not given to me as a gift. They were engineered to make me a more valuable fighting asset, a more entertaining gladiator. The question remains whether I'll use these powers as my alien captors intend, or find a way to turn them against my enslavers.

  The tablet chimes with a notification: "Training Session 1: Combat Basics - 2 hours remaining." My first official test approaches quickly.

  I should get some rest while I can.