Samus Aran: Attack Legend by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Samus-Aran-Attack-Legend-1127015886#image-1

Samus Aran: Attack Legend ANIMATION

Carved in Emerald Shadows

Emerald vines dripped with an iridescent, viscous sap that hissed softly as it struck the damp earth. Samus Aran wiped a bead of feverish condensation from her collarbone, her pale skin taking on a phantom glow in the bioluminescent dusk of Aetheria’s deepest canopy. The magnetic pulse emanating from the planetary core had rendered her legendary Power Suit a heavy, lifeless tomb miles back at the drop site. Forced to abandon it, she navigated the suffocating labyrinth of the forgotten jungle clad only in her cobalt Zero Suit. She was flesh, bone, and raw instinct, armed with a mere paralyzer pistol against an ecosystem that had not tasted mammalian blood in a millennium.

The heat was a physical weight, smelling of crushed orchids, wet copper, and centuries of undisturbed decay. Samus moved with the silent, predatory grace of a panther, her vibrant golden hair bound tightly back, a brilliant slash of color against the oppressive, sickly greens and deep shadows of the alien undergrowth. She brushed aside a curtain of weeping moss and abruptly stumbled into an impossible clearing.

The chaotic, hungry jungle halted at the edge of a vast, circular plaza paved with pale, veined marble. The encroaching flora seemed repelled by an invisible aura of profound, chilling stillness. The air here was suddenly frigid, biting through the thin fabric of her suit and raising goosebumps along her arms. At the exact center of the plaza sat a grand, high-backed throne of jagged rock, and upon it rested a figure of unparalleled, terrifying perfection.

It was a man, or the idealized, grandiose memory of one, carved entirely from porous, midnight obsidian. His features were sharp, aristocratic, and agonizingly beautiful. As Samus approached cautiously, her cobalt boots making no sound on the ancient marble, she marveled at the impossible detail hewn into the dark rock. She could see the faint suggestion of veins beneath the polished surface of his forearms, the subtle tension of tendons in his neck, the tragic, heavy curve of his lips. He was a masterpiece of dead things, a monument to a forgotten vanity.

Then, the stone lip curled into a smile.

The sound of rock grinding against rock shattered the silence, echoing like distant thunder across the dead plaza. The creature shifted, uncrossing its massive legs and leaning its chin upon a fist of solid basalt. Black, empty sockets where eyes should have been fixed themselves directly upon her.

"It has been an eternity," the creature spoke.

His voice was not a sound carried on the air, but a heavy vibration that traveled through the marble floor, up through the soles of her boots, and resonated directly within the marrow of her bones. It was a dark, rich cello of a voice, dripping with ancient melancholy and a terrifying, hypnotic magnetism.

Samus immediately raised her paralyzer, stepping back to maintain distance. Her bright blue eyes narrowed, calculating angles, weaknesses, and escape routes. She had faced metroids, cosmic pirates, and parasitic horrors that defied comprehension, but the sheer, raw presence of this entity made her pulse thrum a dangerous, erratic rhythm.

"Stay exactly where you are," Samus commanded, her voice steady, betraying none of the sudden ice forming in her stomach.

"A weapon of light against a creature of darkness and earth?" The statue chuckled, a sound like crumbling gravel sliding down a dry ravine. "How delightfully futile. Put it away, beautiful huntress. I wish only to look upon you. It has been so very long since something warm wandered into my court."

"Identify yourself," she demanded, shifting her grip on the pistol. The air around the statue was shimmering, warping the light.

"I am Malacor," the entity vibrated, rising slowly from the throne. His movements were impossibly fluid for solid stone, though the terrible, deep grinding sound accompanied every subtle shift of his joints. "I was a king of this jade abyss before your stars had names. I am art, I am history, and currently... I am profoundly lonely."

Malacor took a step down from the dais. He stood over seven feet tall, an imposing silhouette against the luminescent jungle behind him. "You have an extraordinary face, Samus Aran."

Samus froze, her finger tightening on the trigger. "You read my mind."

"I taste your aura," Malacor corrected softly, taking another grinding step forward. The temperature plummeted further. Frost began to rim the edges of the marble tiles. "It
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