Missing Lupa? A Roar of Triumph Retrospective from a 2026 Wanderer

Ah, 2026. The year my tea tasted bitter and my roster still felt that Lupa-shaped void. Yes, I’m still not over it. Let me take you back to the summer of 2025 when Wuthering Waves decided to set our Radiant Tides on fire with the Roar of Triumph banner. If you were there, you know. If you weren’t, pull up a chair while I weep into my afterglow corals.

It was the 3rd of July, 2025. Server time ticked to 10:00, and somewhere a Kuro Games employee probably cackled. The banner would run until July 23rd—barely three weeks to decide if you were ready to surrender your savings. Eligibility was generous: reach Union Level 8 or simply clear the combat trial in “First Resonance” to unlock the Convene function. By that point, most of us had already tasted the gacha salt and were fluent in the language of desire.

The rules? Oh, I memorised them like a desperate prayer:

• Every 10 attempts promised at least one 4-star or higher Resonator or Weapon. That 10-pull glow became my serotonin trigger.

• The 5-star pity counter was shared across all Featured Resonator Convene event banners. So if you whiffed on a previous banner, your bad luck wasn’t wasted—it was just marinating.

• Lupa herself was exclusive. Exclusive. Not “we might rerun her eventually” kind of exclusive. Kuro said once the event ended, she would not be obtainable by other means. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a video game look you in the eye and whisper “no second chances,” but it’s haunting.

• Her Wavebands? A saving grace—two could be purchased from the Afterglow Coral Store during the banner. For those who pulled just one copy and wanted that tantalising sequence buff, this was your moment. Two purchases max, and then poof, the store emptied faster than my hope after hitting hard pity.

• Trial Resonators were available via Ascendant Aces. You could smack enemies around with Lupa for free, feel the power, and then stare at the empty slot in your team screen where she belonged. It was psychological warfare.

The 4-star lineup was a mixed bag of fan favourites and loyal companions. Sanhua brought her icy elegance and a playstyle that rewarded precision. She was already a staple in many teams, and those extra wavebands only made her smirk colder. Taoqi—ah, my sleepy swordswoman with shields thicker than my coping mechanisms. Building her was an act of love, and this banner showered me with enough Taoqi fragments to open a dojo. Then there was Chixia, the pyromaniac gremlin with pistols and a grin that said “I will set both myself and the enemy on fire and it will be glorious.” She’s still underrated, fight me.

The banner art? Godlike. Lupa stood like a gladiator goddess, all embers and rebellion. I’d stare at it while counting my Radiant Tides, knowing full well my 72-pull pity was going to test me. I lost the 50/50. I screamed into a pillow. I scraped the map for every last astrites crumb, did events that made me solve puzzles while crying, and on day seven of desperation, I hit soft pity again. She came home. And at that moment, July 2025 felt like victory.

Now, cut to 2026. Lupa is a dusty trophy in my profile, unobtainable for anyone who started after that July. New players ask “hey, is Lupa good?” and I have to fight the urge to scream “YES BUT YOU CAN’T HAVE HER” into the wind. The Afterglow Coral Store doesn’t carry her wavebands anymore. The Ascendant Aces trials are long gone. Her files are still in the game, haunting us with the occasional story cameo where she acts all cool and I just sob.

But here’s the punchline: that’s gacha. We love the pain. In 2026, new Resonators have arrived, some arguably powercreeping her. Do I care? No. Because Lupa wasn’t just a kit—she was the experience. The thrill of a limited banner with true finality. Kuro Games reminded us that FOMO isn’t just a marketing tactic; it’s an art form.

So if you’re reading this in 2026, eyeing a future banner, learn from my tale. When a “Roar of Triumph” moment comes, and the game says “this Resonator will not be available again,” believe it. Hoard your Radiant Tides. Befriend your wallet. And if you still miss out, know that somewhere out there, a veteran is whacking a boss with Lupa’s ultimate just to feel something. I’ll be that veteran. And I’ll still be slightly bitter. But triumphant.

For those who did pull on the Roar of Triumph banner, the 4-stars still hold up. Sanhua remains a premier sub-DPS, Taoqi’s shield still laughs at boss mechanics, and Chixia can surprisingly clear content if you invest enough. They’re the unsung heroes of that patch—the consolation prizes that actually became cornerstones. I’m not crying; you’re crying.

In the end, Lupa taught me that not all gacha dates are forever. Sometimes a banner is a fleeting summer romance, and you either catch it or frame the memory. 2026 me knows that. 2025 me is just happy I didn't give up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go polish my Lupa build before the next community tier-list argument breaks out. She’s still S-tier in my heart.