After class I check my tablet, which has automatically updated after my performance in training. The screen flashes with a new schedule, reflecting my accelerated status within the program:

  Daily Schedule - Subject 7249

  0800: Advanced Telekinetic Control (Training Bay 5)

  1100: Combat Application Theory (Lecture Hall C) 1300: Metabolic Enhancement Meal

  1400: One-on-One Power Development (Private Training Chamber 12)

  1600: !PRIORITY! Sponsor Observation Period (Exhibition Arena)(Scheduled for next cycle)

  1800: Free Practice Time

  2000: Rest Period

  The 'Sponsor Observation Period' entry pulses with a priority notification, indicating its importance. A small note appears beneath it: Selected subjects will demonstrate combat capabilities for potential sponsors. Performance directly influences sponsorship offers.

  As I study the schedule, Elara approaches me in the corridor.

  "I heard about your display in training," she says, keeping her voice low. "Direct physical control of another Ascendant? That's going to fast-track you straight to the arena matches."

  She glances at my tablet. "You've got Sponsor Observation already? That's unusually quick." Her expression grows concerned. "Listen, during these observations, they're not just assessing your combat potential. They're looking at your temperament, your willingness to inflict harm. The more vicious you appear, the higher you'll be valued by certain sponsors."

  I frown, gripping the tablet a little tighter. So it's not just about power, it's about putting on a show. They want to see if I'm willing to go all the way, to be exactly the kind of fighter they can profit from.

  I notice a small group of enhanced humans watching us from across the corridor. One, a woman with distinctive red markings along her arms, whispers something to her companions while staring directly at me.

  "You've made an impression," Elara continues. "That's Scarlet and her group. All sponsored by the same alien faction, one known for backing the most aggressive fighters."

  The tablet chimes with a new notification: Proceed to Combat Application Theory. Attendance mandatory.

  "Be careful in the Observation Arena," Elara warns as she turns to leave. "They'll pair you against someone they expect you to beat, but not easily. They want to see how you handle pressure, how far you're willing to go. Remember, everything is a test here."

  As I head toward Lecture Hall C, I can feel the weight of all the extra glances. Aliens, humans, doesn’t matter. They’re watching me, whispering just low enough that I can’t make out the words. It’s not paranoia if it’s real, right? Whatever game this place is playing, I just moved up a level. I don't know whether I like it or not.

  As I enter Lecture Hall C, I find a space that looks like a small amphitheater, with about thirty other enhanced humans already seated. The instructor, a grizzled old guy with scars tracing his face and hands, stands at the front. Definitely a veteran of whatever twisted system we’re caught up in.

  As I walk down the aisle, I catch the hushed whispers trailing behind me. Word travels fast in this place. I pick a seat somewhere in the middle, not too eager, not too withdrawn. Just trying to stay under the radar, though I doubt that’s possible anymore.

  The instructor activates a holographic display, bringing up different arena configurations. His voice is rough, like someone who's spent a lifetime barking orders.

  "Combat pairing is an art form designed to maximize entertainment value and betting potential," he explains. "It's never a random match. The Overseers want close contests with dramatic moments, not quick slaughters. That said, the truth about pairing is simple - there's always a favored combatant and an underdog."

  The hologram shifts to show statistical analyses of different matches.

  "When you enter Sponsor Observation, both participants believe they're the favored fighter. Both are told they're expected to win. This creates maximum effort from both sides."

  The instructor's gaze lands on me, like he already knows exactly who I am.

  "In reality, one of you is fodder. The aliens just don't tell you which. They study how you fight when you believe you have the advantage. They also study how the underdog performs under pressure. Sometimes, the supposed fodder surprises everyone and earns a better position."

  Images of various arena battles play across the holographic display, showing enhanced humans using diverse powers against each other.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "The most valuable fighters aren't just powerful, they're unpredictable, adaptable, and willing to do whatever it takes to win. Sponsors value those who can turn disadvantage into victory. They value those who deliver memorable moments for the audience."

  The instructor paces across the front of the room.

  "Everyone in this system is simultaneously predator and prey. Your job is to ensure you're more the former than the latter."

  After the lecture, as I head out with the others, someone falls into step beside me, a wiry guy covered in shifting geometric tattoos.

  "Name's Cipher," he says quietly. "Saw what you did in training. Word of advice about Sponsor Observation - they'll pair you against someone who should be evenly matched but has a specific weakness to your ability. They want to see if you can identify and exploit it. It's not about whether you win, it's how you win that matters to them."

  He glances around before continuing.

  "Don't be too quick or too brutal. Sponsors want fighters who can put on a show, not just efficiently eliminate opponents. The audience needs time to place their bets during the match."

  "Thanks for the tip," I tell Cipher with a nod.

  “Just don’t forget me when you make it to the big leagues.” He gives me a grin and pats me on the back.

  The lecture is over, and for the first time since I got here, I’m not just some nobody trying to survive. I’ve got eyes on me, people whispering my name. Feels good.

  Then, I see her.

  Tall, athletic, moving with an easy confidence, her dark hair cascading in loose waves past her shoulders. And then there’s the glow, faint, like circuitry woven into her skin, pulsing in rhythm with her breath. There’s something different about her, something that makes her stand out even among a room full of enhanced humans.

  Wow.

  At first I feel intimidated, but then I remember I’m not the loser I used to be. Power hums beneath my skin, a constant reminder that I’ve changed. People notice me now, whispering my name, watching me like I matter. And I like it.

  I don’t think twice. I follow her toward the common area, curiosity mixing with the simple thrill of wanting to see where this goes.

  The common area is quiet at this hour, a few enhanced humans scattered around, chatting in hushed tones or testing out the strange exercise equipment. She settles at a table near a wide viewport, gazing at the surreal alien garden beyond.

  I approach with confidence. "Mind if I join you?"

  She looks up, studying me with iridescent eyes that flicker like shifting opals. "You're the new telekinetic," she states flatly, neither an invitation nor a rejection. "I saw what you did to that kid in training."

  "Word travels fast." I sit across from her without waiting for permission. "I’m Gary."

  "Nova," she replies. Her fingers trace idle patterns on the table, leaving behind glowing trails that fade after a moment. "Photonic manipulation. I can create, shape, and control light."

  I nod, my gaze lingering on the soft glow of her skin. "That explains the shimmer," I say, smirking. "Looks good on you."

  Nova's expression remains unreadable, but her iridescent eyes darken to a deeper shade of blue. "Flattery already? Confidence looks good on you. You must be settling in faster than most."

  "Let's just say I'm making the most of it," I reply, leaning back slightly. "Back on Earth, I wasn’t exactly turning heads. Now..." I let my power flow effortlessly, lifting her water glass with my telekinesis and making it spin lazily in the air before setting it back down. "Feels nice to be noticed."

  Nova arches a brow, unimpressed. She flicks her fingers, and a delicate butterfly made of pure light flutters into existence above her palm. "Everyone here gets noticed. The real question is—will you be someone who lasts?"

  I smirk. "Planning on it. And since you've been around longer, maybe you could show me how things really work, beyond the official orientation."

  She studies me for a moment, the glowing lines across her skin pulsing slightly brighter. "You’re in the Sponsor Observation today, right? Your first real test."

  The butterfly dissolves as she closes her hand, her gaze lingering on me a little longer this time. "Tell you what, impress me there, and maybe I’ll show you the real tour."

  Her lips curve just slightly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "You've got potential, new blood. Let’s see if you live up to it."

  Maybe it’s my newfound confidence, but I have an urge to say something I’dnever say otherwise.

  "Will you give me a reward if I do?" I add a wink to accentuate my question.

  Holy shit, did I really just say that?

  Nova's opalescent eyes shift to a vibrant violet hue as her lips curve into a slight smirk. The luminescent patterns on her skin pulse once, brighter than before.

  "A reward?" she echoes, leaning forward slightly. "Someone's confident for their first day." Her fingers trace a glowing pattern across the table's surface, the light forming a path that extends toward me. "I suppose exceptional performance deserves... recognition."

  And it actually worked?!

  She studies me with renewed interest, the light emanating from her skin casting soft shadows across her features. "Most newcomers are still shell-shocked or terrified at this point. You've adapted quickly."

  Nova creates another light construct, this time a small, detailed figure that resembles me, complete with a miniature opponent at my feet.

  "Victory looks good on you," she says, dissolving the light sculpture with a wave of her hand. "Show me something impressive in the arena—not just power, but style—and I'll give you a proper welcome to your new life." The hint of promise in her voice is unmistakable.

  She stands gracefully, the patterns on her skin flowing like liquid light. "Better get ready for your observation match. The sponsors don't like to be kept waiting." As she passes by me, she lets her fingertips brush lightly against my shoulder, leaving a brief, tingling trail of light that fades slowly.

  "Find me after," she adds over her shoulder. "If you're still standing."

  Several other enhanced humans have been watching this exchange with interest. A day ago, I was a nobody, just another loser trying to scrape by. Now, people are paying attention. Not because I did anything special, but because I have power now. And in this place, power means everything. Whether that's a good thing or not... I'm still figuring that out.

  The tablet at my side chimes with a notification: "One-on-One Power Development begins in 30 minutes. Report to Chamber 12."