It housed their precious third-level alchemist, Elton. Elton was forty-three this year, but he Looked considerable older than his age. At first glance, one was given to assume that he was over fifty years old.

He now sat in an old-fashioned wooden armchair, dressed in a black suit, sipping the top-grade tea that was served only to him and the matriarch.

It was a quarter before ten. There were still fifteen minutes left until the ceremony officially started, but guests had been streaming in since earlier.

The main hall was already crowded.

Elton was in high spirits, mainly because people had showered him their congratulations and all kinds of expensive gifts that were packaged exquisitely according to his tastes.