You gasp for air as Conquest drives you deeper into the dirt, the pressure unbearable, your ribs threatening to crack under his immense strength.

His scarred face looms closer, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks:

"I am so lonely. All the other Viltrumites are scared of me. No one talks to me. No one wants to be my friend-- They think I am unstable. They send me from planet to planet committing atrocities in their name. And as I get better at it, they fear me more and more. I am a victim of my own success. Conquest. I don't even get a real name, only a purpose. I am capable of so much more and no one sees it. Some days I feel so alone I could cry, but I don't. I never do. Because what would be the point? Not a single person in the entire universe would care."

His words catch you off guard—raw, bitter, almost… mournful.

He is a monster, a butcher, a force of unstoppable violence.

And yet, in this moment, he is something else. Lonely. Broken. A man drowning in the weight of his own power.