Legend Of The Maitreya

Dantae woke up to realise his body was confined in a thick cloth inside a cradle, yet again he was disorientated until he finally figured out he was reborn but in the past.

His life seemed to revolve around changing of, diapers, bathing, feeding and naps, until he reached the age of a toddler where he realized he was born in an aristocratic family in the Silla era.

He finally accepted his new life as the son of a noble, not that he wouldn't accept it, his new life was much better than the previous and he was glad he was given a second chance of redemption.

He enjoyed the opulence that life had to offer, something he had grown alien to in his previous world.

He was given the best of everything, be it a bath or feeding, he was clothed in expensive silky robes, his long black hair was soaked constantly in rich oils from apricot seed and almonds, his skin radiated and to top it all, he was exceptionally good looking even he couldn't believe he was looking at himself whenever he stared at his reflection.

Maids came to his service and he was given whatever he wanted, which he thought was a bit too much even though his family was well off but he sensed the way they spoiled him and showered him with so much love was suspicious.

His suspicions grew more when he discovered the same thorn like red mark he had on his chest in his previous life had reincarnated with him, the same thorn like mark was visible on his chest.

He was six years old when he queried his mother out of curiosity about the red mark on his chest and he was perplexed on the knowledge she passed onto him.

They sat at the fine garden under a beautiful blossoming peach tree as he stared into his mother's brown eyes, she was a striking beauty, her red hanbok gown which was embellished with beautiful blue embroideries spread on the bench, her hair was styled traditionally with gold hairpins sticking into it.

He was dressed in a fine silk blue robe embellished with black embroideries and a black belt wound round his waist, his long black hair was tired with a black ribbon in a ponytail as he sat next to his mother while swinging his small feet hanging midair while he listened to his mother's intriguing story.

She narrated to him about the legend of Maitreya, a powerful god that once sauntered on the lands of Silla and how the red thorn mark was connected.

She patiently explained to the little boy that the red thorn mark was a symbol of Maitreya, a powerful god that had died on the soils of Silla and therefore, a fragment of its soul resided in the bearers of the mark and along with the mark they harboured, the power and grace of the Maitreya surged through them.

The bearers of the mark were implemented by the king as the official arm of their kingdom as elite assassins, known as Hwarang which meant Flower knights, for they were popularly known for their striking flawless beauty and deadly skills.

The Silla kingdom was the most feared and powerful kingdom throughout the three kingdoms in the nation of South Korea as a result of the powerful assassins they yielded. They went through highly rigorous training and also how to wield their powers to great extents.

The Hwarang trainees mastered martial arts, sword fighting and Hwarangdo, a specific type of martial arts created for the Hwarang by the silla monks.

They extolled great discipline, powers and skills and they were worshipped like gods throughout the three kingdoms in the entire nation.

The mere name of Hwarang mentioned made the spines of people chill, they were gods in human form who excelled in everything they did, from their impeccable beauty to wielding their lethal powers and behind their dazzling beauty laid a deadly beast no one was ready to confront.

The King of Silla kingdom, King Jingheun was thrilled about his army vastly made of the elite assassins, his kingdom was untouchable as he had the Hwarang boys whose undying loyalty was allotted to the kingdom and the king until their very last breath, they didn't hesitate to pour their wrath on whoever the king would order them to terminate.

Each of the three kingdoms honed exquisite powers, the Silla kingdom had their elite assassins who honed great powers bestowed upon them by Maitreya, the Baekje kingdom were bestowed with fae magic from the fae gods and the goryeo kingdom were bestowed with dark magic, from powerful mages.

As in Silla kingdom, only young men from the aristocratic world was chosen to wield the powers of Maitreya, in Baekje kingdom, descendants of pure blooded royals wielded the fae magic, while in goryeo kingdom the entire kingdom wielded dark magic but like background status, some were born more powerful than some, dividing themselves into three ranks, the low ranks, middle ranks and the high ranks.

The high ranking mages in goryeo served as the official arm of their military but among the three kingdoms, the most powerful was the Silla kingdom, their inexplicable powers could not be made comparative with.

The mark bearers would be recruited for training at the age of eight as Hwarang and he was only six which made him realise he had only two more years before he would leave behind his luxurious life and proceed into another which seemed deadly and hectic, but he didn't feel fear, oddly he felt excited for what the future held for him as a Hwarang.

Hwarang was perplexed by the knowledge he acquired from his mother, he now understood while his parents had named him Hwarang, he was a bearer of the mark of Maitreya in the previous life and he wondered if his death was connected, he wondered if he died to fulfill his purpose as a Hwarang.

He had an older brother who was eight years older than him but they had never been close, his brother had shunned him out and avoided him like a plague and after hearing about the legend of Maitreya, he finally realized the reason why he had been neglected and ignored by his older brother.

His brother didn't bear the mark of Maitreya judging from his constant glares and the way he avoided him like a plague but out of curiosity he asked, just to be sure and when his mother satisfied his curiosity, he figured he was right, his brother was not a bearer of the mark.

It was a great privilege and honor to bear the mark of Maitreya, its fragment of its soul incarnated into their bodies and the immense powers of Maitreya surged through them, making them no less than a demigod.

It was said that a fragment of Maitreya's soul incarnated into the young men from aristocratic noble families, so only the family of the nobles had their hopes high of their offsprings being bearers of the mark, making the battle for power elevate in an inexplicable rate.

After taking in so much knowledge into his small brain, he fell asleep in his mother's arms while she sang him a lullaby before carrying him into the traditional made house.

Hwarang went on with his daily life as the son of a noble, showered immense love from his parents, no doubt it was because of the mark and the honor the family now held in the society because of him, he could see the pride in their eyes when they conversed with other nobles.

He loved the attention and adoration they showered on him but his brother was given less attention and he felt empathetic toward him.

He tried to be closer with him, portray a bit of love or attention but his brother would shun him out and avoid him like a plague, it was evident that enviousness and hatred had blackened his heart and after much adherence, he finally gave up trying so hard.

Hwarang living in the normalcy of the world, days passed and it turned to weeks, weeks passed and months penetrated until two years fleeted before his eyes, he was finally eight years of age and he was recruited as it was time for training.

The beginning of his unknown fate had arrived.

Eight year old Hwarang peeked out the window to take a glimpse of the royal carriage that had halted at the entrance of their house.

He knew it was them, presumably the people who had come to carry him for training, and away from his family, he was well aware that he was never coming back, the Hwarangs were sworn to loyalty and once they took the oath to serve the kingdom, there was no going back, the life they once had would cease to exist and a new one would begin.

Only the rear side view of the carriage could be seen, so he couldn't make out the faces of the people that had arrived to carry him.

He was straining his head to try and make out the faces until he heard the hanji screened door slide open and before he could turn around, a figure hovered above him.

He looked up to stare at the daunting but gorgeous man staring down at his little figure.

The man was dressed in a black robe, he wore a black gat atop his head, a sword lay sheathed in his scabbard he held in his right hand, his hazel eyes peered into his with an intimidating gaze. His features were calm but he could see the melancholy brewing beneath his composure, like the calm before the storm.

He had an ominous presence that weighed around him heavily like a thick cloak.

"It's time." He heard the man's deep baritone voice say with a cold stiffness in it.