Twelve Rounds 3 Novels & Stories

Chapter 128 Homecoming week: Tuesday Part 5.3 Final Round: Round 3 “Ok, that ends round two, ladies just like last time I need you to write the number of the man you think you kissed. We have one more round left before we see which team collected the most points, to win this challenge.” The announcer said, smiling at how much the crowd was enjoying the new game. Syncere and Shawn were both fuming because they were both hoping that they would have gotten the chance to kiss Essence and Kymoni. The didn't know how the hell out of both rounds and three spins that they didn't land on them once. They both knew that they would have known if they had kissed Essence and Kymoni. Syncere was starting t

Instead, he swept his gaze across the arena, then declared word by word, "That's right. I do want a round 11! I want to take every single reward and every bit of honor that this Grand Medical Summit has to offer! I refuse to share a title with someone like Mosby! "I'm going to leave him in the dust—so far behind he won't even see my taillights! And if 11 rounds aren't enough, we'll go to the 12th! If 12 rounds aren't enough, we'll go to the 13th! I'll keep going… until every single one of you sees the truth!"

Her lips were painted the same shade of red as the one I remembered from the night she ruined my life. Lucas stepped forward, holding a whistle between his fingers and a paper in his hand. He was cheerful, the kind of man who enjoyed the tension in the air. “Alright, everyone! The rules are simple. We’re doing ten rounds. Accuracy and distance count. Each round’s score will be calculated, and by the end… we’ll know who’s the best player today. Fair enough?”

“Shall we continue?” Preston glanced at Luna before the start of the new round. Luna’s cheeks reddened, her feet subtly shuffling in an attempt to alleviate the strain and numbness. Although visibly uncomfortable, she refused to concede willingly. “Of course. I refuse to believe I can only roll one or two,” Delmor declared with determination. After three rounds, Delmor rolled two ones and a two, resolute in his determination to achieve a higher number. Luna clenched her teeth, glaring at Delmor.

A chuckle escaped me. “I see. Who knows you might be friends after this” Her eyes went wide. “Me and her? Friends? Never? I prefer to be with your guys. M-” Her statement was interrupted by the sound of Alpha’s voice. “I’m sure by now everyone is present here. I won't waste time explaining everything over again. The competition will start in the next two hours. Giving you an extra time to mentally get yourself prepared. There would be three round. Passing the first round qualifies you to the second round and vice versa”

he announced, hands clasped behind his back as he paced in front of us with a serious look, like this a matter of life or death. Maybe it was that serious for those who cared. I didn’t. “This first round is a race,” he continued. “Each group will have ten people. Only the top three from each group will move on to the next trial. This stage will test your speed, awareness, endurance, teamwork, and quick thinking.” “Ouuuu, I can’t wait.” Eloise whispered next to me, rolling her shoulders in a little dance. “Alright, let’s get you all into your groups.” Mr. Fisher said.

I heaved a deep sigh as my eyes started to get teary. “T-the Chosen Twelve are the victors in this bout, garnering them three points already. Fight duration: 35 minutes and 12 seconds,” Ballam, the announcer, declared. And that’s the time we all cried not because our group won again but because of the loss of a good friend.

Rolex chuckled, patting my back with his hand. "Score goals yourself as well." I patted him back with a laugh. "Hahaha, I'd better." "Yo, you know man. You had better." We clasped each other on the shoulders again before separating and going to stand at our different positions. The first round passed with us getting 4/3 against each other and I wasn't happy with myself. I had made one mistake that led to the other team getting so close to us. After round two came and ended, we got a whopping 12/5 to which I scored 8 goals myself while Rolex scored 4.

He grinned faintly, acknowledging. The third round paired me with Rian. He was taller, stronger, with longer reach. I adjusted my stance, remembering previous rounds. He lunged, I ducked. He swung, I sidestepped, tapping lightly on his arm. He pushed forward again, and I barely managed to twist out of the way. I felt my wrists protest slightly, but ignored it. Each move was deliberate, each step calculated. Lucian’s presence reminded me of what mattered: precision, not force.

Twelve rounds against however many Vipers. Bad odds. Terrible odds. Didn't matter. She was getting him back. Or dying trying.