In the bustling city of Elysium, where the air shimmered with faint traces of mana like invisible glitter, life had long adapted to the chaos.
Decades ago, a cosmic rift had flooded the world with this ethereal energy, turning ordinary places into gateways for monstrous horrors. Portals ripped open at random—sometimes in parks, sometimes in malls—spewing out slimy beasts, fire-breathing drakes, or worse. But humanity fought back. Heroes emerged, gifted with mana-infused powers: super strength, elemental blasts, or shields of light.
They were celebrities, sponsored by corporations, saving the day in flashy outfits while the rest of the world hunkered down with emergency drills and mana-proof bunkers.
Andrey Thompson was not one of those heroes. He was a 28-year-old office drone at Apex Logistics, buried in spreadsheets and deadlines. Tall and lanky, with neatly combed brown hair and glasses that screamed "I take my coffee black and my reports error-free," Andrey lived for efficiency. He was the guy who color-coded his emails, double-checked every invoice, and stayed late because "the quarterly projections won't balance themselves." Colleagues called him a workaholic behind his back, but Andrey saw it as dedication.
Heroes? Pfft. They were just distractions from real productivity.
That Tuesday started like any other. Andrey sat at his desk on the 15th floor, fingers flying over his keyboard. "Come on, these shipping manifests are a mess," he muttered to himself, adjusting his tie. Around him, the open-plan office hummed with chatter. Sarah from accounting was gossiping about the latest hero scandal—"Did you hear? Blaze Knight got caught endorsing bootleg mana potions!"—while Mike from sales slurped his noodle cup noisily.
Suddenly, the building shook. Alarms blared. "Portal alert! Portal alert!" the intercom screamed. Andrey froze, his mouse hovering over a cell in Excel. "Not now," he grumbled. "I have a meeting at three."
A rift tore open right in the middle of the break room, swirling purple and black like a bad abstract painting. Out poured a horde of goblins—short, green, and armed with rusty spears—followed by a massive troll, its club smashing desks like they were toothpicks.
"Everyone, evacuate!" shouted the office manager, but panic erupted. People screamed, running for the stairs. Andrey grabbed his laptop—priorities—and dashed toward the exit. "This is inefficient," he huffed, dodging a flying chair. "Why can't portals respect business hours?"
A goblin lunged at him, its spear grazing his arm. Andrey yelped, stumbling back. "Hey! That's assault!" But the troll swung its club, sending Andrey flying into a wall. Pain exploded in his chest as ribs cracked. He slumped to the floor, vision blurring, blood trickling from his mouth.
The office was a warzone: heroes would arrive soon, but for Andrey, it felt too late. "This... this wasn't in my schedule," he wheezed, clutching his side. Darkness crept in.
Then, a cheerful chime echoed in his head, like a video game notification.
Ding! Congratulations, Host! You've unlocked the Magical Girl System!
Andrey blinked through the haze. "What the—?" A holographic screen popped up in front of him, pink and sparkly, with cartoon hearts floating around the edges.
System: Hello, Andrey! I'm your Magical Girl Guide! Due to your near-death state, you've been selected as the Manager of Magical Girls. Build a team of adorable, powerful girls to fight monsters and save the world! Level them up, unlock outfits, and bond for ultimate power!
Andrey stared, his serious face twisting in confusion. "This has to be a hallucination. Or a prank app. Where's the unsubscribe button?"
System: No prank, Host! In this mana-contaminated world, heroes are great, but Magical Girls are the next level! You'll gain strength through them—shared mana, buffs, the works. First step: Choose your starter candidate from nearby potentials!
The screen displayed three options, like a dating app from hell. Profile pics of women in the office building appeared: Sarah from accounting (smiling with coffee in hand), Lisa the intern (looking bored at her desk), and even the barista from the lobby cafe downstairs.
Andrey's eyes widened. "Wait, what? I have to... pick girls? To turn into magical warriors? This is absurd! I'm dying here, and you're giving me a waifu simulator?"
System: Teehee! Not just any girls—Magical Girls! They'll get transformations, wands, frilly skirts, and catchphrases like 'Love and Justice!' You'll manage their training, outfits, and heart events for affection points. More affection = more power! You get stronger too, Host! No more boring office life!
Andrey pushed himself up against the wall, wincing as goblin shrieks echoed nearby. "Affection points? Heart events? This isn't a game! I'm a logistics specialist, not some... some harem manager! And why girls? Why not, I don't know, magical accountants?"
System: Because Magical Girls are cute and marketable! Studies show 87% higher engagement rates. Now, pick one, or the system will auto-select! Time's ticking—monsters incoming!
Andrey glanced around. The troll was rampaging closer, smashing cubicles. Sarah was hiding under a desk, peeking out terrified. "Fine, whatever! Just... Sarah! She's reliable with numbers. But this better heal me or something!"
System: Great choice! Initiating contract... Magical Girl Sarah unlocked! Transformation sequence starting!
A burst of pink light enveloped Sarah. She yelped, "What the heck?" as her office blouse shimmered into a sparkly dress, complete with a wand and boots.