Heavy sighs, filled with endless disappointment and resentment, rose and fell one after another, weaving together a sorrowful symphony.
"Sigh…"
"I was so close to killing that Transport Insect! Why?! Why did I have to run into an Insect Race patrol right at the end?!"
"I didn't even glimpse a Level 4 Transport Insect… The bugs in this damn place are just too cunning."
Young faces, once high-spirited and brimming with pride and confidence, were now clouded by thick layers of dejection and defeat.
They silently stared at their Subspace Networks, at the single, cold, glaring red word displayed there: Failed.
Then, they slowly rose to their feet.
They turned, casting a complex glance—a mixture of envy and jealousy—at the "victors" who remained in their seats, their faces either calm or overjoyed.
Then, they turned away. Dragging their feet, like a defeated army, they silently merged into the crowd and headed toward the designated exits of the plaza.
