Countless camera lenses instantly pivoted toward the Elyndor team.
The rapid-fire clicking of shutters echoed through the hall.
Flashes erupted in a relentless storm.
The reporters who had originally planned to snap a few standard photos of the host nation, Severia, suddenly smelled a massive scoop. They aggressively pushed forward, aiming everything they had at Elyndor.
It was simply too stunning.
In a sea of generic, formulaic opening ceremony outfits, the Elyndor team's attire emerged like a dark horse, instantly stealing the spotlight from everyone else in the room.
One reporter muttered in awe, "It's like they're wearing the very aesthetics and power of their nation."
Another was already typing furiously, "Elyndor delegation's Gala Attire becomes the dark horse of the ceremony."
"Incredible. How is their team's presence this intimidating?"
Lenses zoomed in, capturing close-ups of Serena's face.
The international press went into an absolute frenzy.
She was too gorgeous.
Her features were utterly flawless.
Several international journalists bypassed protocol and swarmed closer, snapping aggressively at the Elyndor team.
Surrounded by cameras, the Elyndorian competitors showed none of the repressed anger and frustration they had felt at the airport after being deliberately humiliated.
Every single one of them stood tall, chests puffed out slightly, eyes shining with pride.
Not far away, Phelps stood with the Severian team, staring at Elyndor's uniforms with a darkened expression.
He watched as the Elyndor team was surrounded like royalty, looking so effortlessly confident and poised.
Phelps couldn't take it anymore.
He looked down at his own team's uniform.
The Severian attire consisted of casual white suits, a flag on the chest, and a badge on the lapel.
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