In a district of Number Three Floating City where non-mages lived, inside a secret basement.
Dean and Selma, both priests, sat in chairs, silently staring at the latest issue of the Evening News on the table.
"Undefeated in the Group Stage, Philly adds another chapter to her legend..."
Beyond the front page, none of the other pages carried the criticism of the Champion Mage Challenge that Dean had proposed. Most were devoted to Philly.
At last, Selma broke the silence.
"You sea-dweller, didn't you say paying those newspapers to publicize the Champion Mage Challenge would help us complete our mission?"
"So why haven't we heard a single murmur outside? Have you been slacking off on your prayers?"
Dean let her mockery pass and answered briefly.
"My devotion to our lord isn't the issue. Things have changed. Who could have known something this big would happen?"
His gaze fell on the photo of Philly winning her final Group Stage match. Behind her lay a shallow pit blasted black.
"This mage really is powerful. I doubt our Proxies could beat her even at Second Order, unless they used Divine Descent."
Selma looked unconvinced.
"Impossible. You're just making excuses because your strategy failed. How could a deity's Proxy lose to a mere mage?"
Selma held to the continent's conventional wisdom: mages had a high floor but a relatively low ceiling.
That neatly summed up how she saw them.
Mages could learn spells from various Schools and draw on their Spell Apparatuses and the Alliance's logistical support. This gave them formidable combat power, while other professionals often found themselves at a disadvantage against such well-supported opponents.
But the continent also had professions so extraordinary they upended expectations for their rank. They represented the ceiling of their respective orders.
Among them were the deities' Proxies