Bloodline Evolution: I Can Choose Opposing Paths-Chapter 49: Club Season

Landlord: Sounds good! Would you be able to meet up today to check out the apartment?

Aren Cross: Yes, would you be available at 5 PM?

Landlord: Perfect, see you soon.

Aren nodded and slid his phone back into his pocket. He was lucky that the landlord decided to reply to him. Well, with that price on the apartment? She’d probably be dealing with hundreds of applications.

It was around 3 PM now, so Aren decided to visit one more facility before heading over for his appointment. If he was going to spend the next few years here, might as well learn everything it has to offer.

He adjusted his direction toward the western side of campus grounds, following the steady flow of students moving in the same direction. The noise grew louder the farther he walked.

After a while, the Academy Fields came into view.

Rows of tents had been set up across the wide grass fields. Students walked between booths, as others handed out flyers or did small tricks to get people into their booth.

Seems like Recruitment Day is today? Explains the energy.

Aren slowed slightly as he got closer.

Clubs weren’t mandatory, but they were a great way to have access to more resources as well as build connections. In a place like Imperial City Mystic College, it was even more important.

"Well, can’t hurt to take a look," he muttered.

As he entered into the Fields, there were a lot more people than he thought. The place was absolutely packed with students.

His eyes scanned the layout. There must’ve been at least a hundred different clubs, though there was one that stood out with the largest crowd out of the bunch.

The Combat Association.

Well of course, it was the default path for aspiring Mystics, as it was structured around sparring and internal rankings. Even if Mystics were meant to protect people, most just wanted to get a cushy bodyguard job that won’t throw them into the line of danger and get paid fat bucks.

Aren hesitated only briefly before angling toward it. Wouldn’t hurt to see how high the bar was.

He joined the back of the line.

The wait was longer than he expected.

One by one, students stepped forward, presented their cards, answered a few questions, and either received a nod or a polite dismissal.

When it was finally his turn, the person at the front swapped shifts, somebody else came out to receive his card instead.

Aren could already tell this guy was a jackass. Black tank top along with spiky red hair and muscles on his muscles...yeah, this guy was a jackass for sure.

He stepped up and placed his card on the table anyway.

The redhead picked it up and scanned it, before staring him dead in the eyes.

"Stage 1 Lightning? How the hell did you even get accepted to this College?"

A couple of students in line behind Aren let out low chuckles.

"Did you just switch yesterday or something?" the redhead continued. "Or did you think Lightning looked cool?"

The card slid back across the table, harder this time.

"This ain’t a charity kid, get lost," he waved his hand dismissively.

The man was already looking past Aren.

"Next."

Aren took his card back and slid it into his pocket without a word.. He wasn’t really surprised to be honest. Most of the members in that club were probably rich young masters who just mingled with each other.

He shrugged before heading off, not bothered in the slightest. His eyes scanned the club manuals and their signs as he made his way deeper into the fields.

A few caught his eye but were more or less uninteresting. The Martial Arts Club had a decent crowd of its own. A pair of upperclassmen exchanged a few blows. Their fundamentals were solid and the club seemed to be doing well.

However, Aren had no intentions of abandoning weapons for hand-to-hand specialization. Besides, he probably knew all the techniques they’d teach anyway.

Further down, the Swordsmanship Society showcased a rapier duel between two contestants with a small prize for the winner. The table was littered with training manuals and whatnot.

But again, he’d probably had a more fitting swordsmanship style than one they’d be teaching.

That was when he spotted a tent that looked a bit...different.

The tent was absolutely packed. Not with serious–looking upperclassmen or wide-eyed freshmen...it was all girls.

A neat line had formed in front of the booth, though "neat" was generous. Most of them weren’t even holding the registration forms. They were just laughing amongst each other, some were pretending to read the pamphlets they clearly didn’t care about.

At the center of it all sat a senior who looked like he had wandered out of a fashion show.

He was handsome, extremely so, with two-toned hair—black and white split cleanly down the middle. He was wearing a sleeveless black top and bicycle gloves. There were various tattoos running down one arm as he casually sat in the chair, looking like he was signing autographs instead of giving out information.

Aren slowed slightly, trying to understand what he was looking at.

The senior smiled faintly at something one of the girls said, his expression completely easy and nonchalant.

Curiosity got the better of him. Aren stepped closer and tilted his head up just enough to read the banner hanging above the booth.

Urban Hunting Club.

Urban hunting? Isn’t that perfect for me?

If he wanted to sustain his core, then controlled hunts in unstable urban zones were ideal.

Aren’s gaze drifted back to the senior, who was still chatting casually, golden eyes soft and completely without a care in the world.

He was probably insufferable, but if this club operated in the field, then one annoying senior wouldn’t matter too much.

Aren stepped toward the edge of the tent and waited.

And waited...and waited.

WHAT THE HELL?! WHY ISN’T THIS LINE MOVING?!

He had completely forgotten that everyone here didn’t care about urban hunting at all.

Right...it was a fan club to begin with.

He wasn’t about to elbow past half the female population of the College just to ask.

Aren turned around instead.

There were other tents to check out and he was on a timer. If Urban Hunting was serious anyway, they’d still be here tomorrow—preferably without the crowd.

He took a few steps away from the tent, eyes scanning the neighboring booths.

That was when—

THUD!

Aren fell to the ground, crutching at his nose which had been smashed like a pancake.

But when he looked up, golden eyes met his, along with the same two-toned hair and amused expression.

"Heya Junior!" he said easily. "Interested in our club, are you?"