Generations ago, when mankind had not discovered Aura, when mankind had been on the verge of defeat, a few people had risen to the challenge. They had developed incredible fighting styles, ranging from gunslinger-Esque fighting to martial arts that could split massive boulders in half in a single strike.
Yet, despite all that, humanity was still losing. Despite the absurd amount of training they had gone through, they could never turn the tides of the battle. It was a dark-age, a generation shrouded in the rain.
But humanity persisted, through and through, until they saw a light. A light they longed for. Desperately, they grasped for it, pushed each other towards it, fought on, and on and ON.
For when a spark ignites a match, it's lit with a bright, yet small, fire.
Every new child born was put through the wringer, pushed further than any of their ancestors ever could. Every new generation saw the rise of new pillars, of new fighting styles, of new hope.
Every new child was taught that the light would save them. So they too, grasped for it, longed for it, bled and died for it, not before passing on their own styles. It didn't matter if you were man or woman, if you were human or faunus, if you were an adult or child. If you could fight, you fought.
For when lit match meets a pile of wood, it rages into a majestic fire.
Despite a hundred and one generations passing, humanity never gave up hope. Because when, back then, the light was distant but on the horizon, now it was just a step or two away.
So humanity persisted.
And it was rewarded.
A future-legend, Cedar-motherfucking-arc, had discovered a temple. The temple spoke of a power, a power born from the soul. A power that could protect a person from harm, a power that enhanced a person, a power that allowed humanity to pour their very souls into physical form.
Cedar Arc, the first of the Arcs, had discovered Aura.
The discovery had kickstarted a change in the battle for survival against Grimm and Monsters.
For when a match is lit, it ignites with fire,
For when a match meets a pile of wood, the fire grows stronger,
When the pile just so happens to be in a forest, the fire catches on to the surrounding grass.
And then from the grass to the tree-trunks, and from those tree-trunks, it spreads to its branches,
And from those branches, the fire spreads to the leaves.
And when everything is burned to ashes, a new plant will grow in its place.
For wood and leaf ashes are good for soil and and the seeds sown deep in them.
From that soil, new grass and flowers sprout.
Jaune Arc himself may seem like a deceptively slow-growing flower, yet he is no flower.
For Jaune is the first pillar of his generation.
He is no flower, he is the tree that provides the oxygen of the new world.
