Pyromancer Ascension

The two-counter threshold is the whole design problem, and it's also the reason this enchantment built one of the purest "do the same thing twice" engines in red's history. The first counter is free the moment you cast a spell whose name already sits in your graveyard; the trouble is that you need two before anything happens, which front-loads all the risk onto a window where the card does nothing but accumulate. That gap is what the deck around it had to solve, and the solution defined the archetype: load up on identical cheap spells (a fistful of the same cantrip, the same burn, the same ritual), then rely on the graveyard filling itself as those spells resolve. Once it's online, every instant or sorcery you cast spawns a free copy with fresh targets, and red's library-spinning toolbox turns a redundant deck into a snowball. The name-matching clause is the constraint that pays for the payoff: it rewards deckbuilding that looks deliberately monotonous, four-of after four-of, because variety is poison to it. That's a genuinely unusual ask in a color built on reach and reactivity. It also explains why the enchantment never became a generic value piece: it doesn't reward a good hand, it rewards a hand stacked with duplicates of the right cantrip, and it sits dead until that hand materializes. The engine is loud once it turns on; getting it there is the entire game.