Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 111: A Beautiful Problem

**Carlo Zea’s POV**

The sun was barely above the horizon when I arrived at the training grounds, the crisp morning air carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. The sky was painted in soft hues of orange and pink, a quiet beauty before the day fully awakened. But I wasn’t here to admire the scenery. I was here to train Lady Erika.

And I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I had trained dozens of warriors in my time as Beta, and molded them into fighters worthy of serving under Alpha Corvin.

I made sure to give my best while training any warrior because Alpha Corvin had done too much for me. I was a rogue. I was abandoned by my pack and on the verge of insanity when he took me in and later made me his beta. I owed it to him to train warriors well so that they could be strong and our pack would be the most feared.

But Lady Erika was… different. Not just because she was noble-born, though that alone would have made this an unusual request. No, what made her different was her spirit, the way she moved, the way she carried herself. She wasn’t like the other noblewomen, those delicate, soft-spoken girls bred for courtly games and arranged marriages.

Erika was something else entirely.

And now, she was my responsibility.

I leaned against the wooden railing of the sparring ring, watching as she approached. Even from a distance, I could see her energy, the way she practically vibrated with anticipation. She moved like she belonged in the open air like she had never quite fit within the marble walls of the noble estate.

The moment she stepped into the training grounds, she was all wild grace and quiet defiance. Her hair was pulled into a loose braid, strands escaping to frame her face. Dressed in simple training leathers, she looked nothing like the pristine noblewoman she was meant to be. Instead, she looked like a warrior in the making.

And damn, if that wasn’t beautiful.

I cleared my throat, pushing the thought away. Focus, Zea. You’re her trainer, not some smitten pup.

“You’re late,” I said as she stopped in front of me.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “It’s barely dawn.”

“Exactly. You should have been here before me.”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed by my authority. “I was under the impression this was training, not a test of who can wake up the earliest.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. She’s got fire. Good. She was going to need it.

“We start at dawn every day,” I told her. “If you’re late tomorrow, I’ll make you run the perimeter of the grounds until your legs give out.”

Her expression faltered for just a second before she rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Good. Let’s begin.”

I stepped back, nodding toward the center of the sparring ring. “Show me what you can do.”

Erika hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, attack me.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” I widen my stance, motioning for her to make her move. “Come at me with everything you’ve got.”

She studied me, her gaze sharp and assessing. I could see the gears turning in her head, the way she was already strategizing. Smart. She wasn’t reckless, and that was good. But I needed to see her instincts, not her hesitation.

“Too slow,” I taunted. “You’re already dead.”

That did it.

She lunged, fast but not fast enough. I sidestepped easily, feeling the rush of air as she swung her fist where I had been just seconds before. She recovered quickly, pivoting and coming at me again.

She was good. Better than I expected.

She had power in her movements, and control in her stance. She wasn’t just throwing wild punches around. She actually knew how to fight. Not perfectly, not like a trained warrior, but there was something raw in the way she moved. Something natural.

I blocked her next strike and caught her wrist, twisting just enough to unbalance her. Before she could recover, I swept her legs out from under her, sending her to the ground.

She landed hard, breath leaving her in a sharp exhale. But instead of frustration, I saw something else in her eyes. Excitement.

She liked this.

“Again,” she said, pushing herself up.

I chuckled, offering her my hand. “You learn fast.”

She ignored my hand, standing on her own. “I hate losing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then you’ll have to get better. Because I’m not going to take it easy on you.”

She smirked. “Good.”

For the next few hours, I pushed her harder than I would have pushed most first-day trainees, and to my surprise, she kept up. She didn’t whine, didn’t complain—she just kept getting up, kept trying.

We moved from hand-to-hand combat to footwork drills, then to weapon handling. I handed her a wooden sword, expecting her to fumble with it. Instead, she gripped it like she had been born to wield one.

“I used to watch the guards train when I was younger,” she admitted, twirling the sword in her hand. “I’d copy their movements when no one was watching.”

I nodded in approval. “Show me.”

She did. And it was impressive.

She swung with precision, her stance solid, her footwork steady. She lacked refinement, but the potential was there. More than potential—there was hunger. She wanted this badly.

I stepped in, parrying her strike, forcing her to react. “Good,” I said. “But you hesitate before committing to a hit. You second-guess yourself.”

She gritted her teeth and tried again, faster this time. I barely blocked it in time.

That’s more like it.

“You’re holding back,” I told her. “Stop overthinking it."

Her eyes met mine, and something in them changed.

She attacked again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

Her strikes were fierce, her movements sharper. She was learning as she fought, adapting to my counters. I had never trained someone like her before. Someone who felt fighting in their bones.

And damn if it didn’t make my blood run hot.

The more we sparred, the more I found myself enjoying this.

Beautiful.

I cursed myself for the thought. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was my student. But I couldn’t help it. There was something about her, something in the way she moved, in the way she laughed whenever she managed to land a hit on me.

I wanted to see more of that.

We finally stopped when she was panting, sweat glistening on her skin, her braid coming undone. She leaned on her wooden sword, grinning. “That… was fun.”

I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. “You’re not half bad.”

She straightened, feigning offense. “Not half bad? That’s the best compliment you can come up with?”

I smirked. “Would you rather I lie and say you’re the best warrior I’ve ever trained?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “I’ll take it. For now.”

“Same time tomorrow?” I asked.

She grinned. “I’ll be here before you.”

I watched as she walked away, the feeling in my chest something I wasn’t ready to name.

But one thing was certain.

Training Lady Erika was going to be a problem.

A beautiful, exhilarating problem.