The last cultist dropped to the ground with a thud, and you exhaled, rolling your shoulders as you lowered your weapon. The fight had been quick, brutal, and now the outpost was finally clear.

Hurk stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, staring at you like he’d just seen something downright religious. His wide eyes flickered between the way your muscles flexed as you wiped sweat from your forehead and the sheen of exertion on your skin.

“Well, damn,” he muttered, clearing his throat when he realized he’d been staring a little too long.

“That was… uh… that was real impressive, amigo. Like, uh, action movie level badassery right there.”

He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“I mean, I always knew you were tough, but seein’ it up close like that? Whew uh kinda makin’ a man feel all sorts of things he ain’t ready to process.”

He let out a nervous laugh, flustered, still definitely not looking at your arms.