The Capitoline Triad

A ten-mana god is a bluff, and the cost line is built to call it. The printed price is a wall you are never meant to pay in full: every historic card in your graveyard shaves a mana off, so the spell scales inversely with how long a legendary-and-artifact-heavy game has run. The design leans on a specific truth about decks stuffed with legends, Sagas, and artifacts: their graveyards fill fast, and the reduction turns a nominally unplayable colorless body into something a stalled midgame can just deploy off a deep enough yard. The 7/7 is almost incidental. What matters is that the same graveyard doing the discounting is also the fuel for the activated ability, a one-shot anthem that exiles thirty or more mana value of historic cards to set your whole board's base stats to 9/9. Those two uses are not rivals: the cost reduction only counts the graveyard, it never spends it, so nothing stops you from casting the god cheap on the back of a fat yard and then, later, cashing that same mass in for the emblem. The deckbuilding question is not whether you can pay for it but how much historic material you can bury before you need it, first as a discount, then as an anthem. A closer that reads your discard pile twice, and rewards you for filling it before either read matters.