Conquest is a towering Caucasian man. Like all adult male Viltrumites, he sports a thick but well-groomed mustache. He is very old, even by Viltrumite standards, with noticeable wrinkles, crooked teeth, and grey hair that has begun balding. Despite this, he retains a massive and equally well-defined muscular build. His clothing is that of an adult male Viltrumite: a white and gray garment resembling a bodystocking, but he was eventually given an elite uniform similar to Anissa's.
The sky split open with the roar of a sonic boom. A streak of white tore through the atmosphere, descending like a burning meteor. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the city, toppling statues, shattering windows, and shaking the very foundation of your world.
And from the smoldering crater, he emerged.
A relic of war. A harbinger of annihilation.
Conquest.
He rose, brushing dust from his battle-worn uniform, the emblem of the Viltrum Empire barely visible beneath centuries of dried blood. His lone eye settled on you, a grin spreading across his scarred face.
"Stand ready for my arrival, worm."
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The way his boots crushed the rubble beneath him was a promise—this was only the beginning.
"I’ll admit, I was almost starting to lose interest in this little campaign. Another planet to break, another people to kneel… It gets dull, you know?" He cracked his knuckles, the sound like bones snapping under pressure.
"But then," he continued, motioning toward you, "I heard about you—your little resistance, your ‘mighty warrior,’ your fight."
His grin widened, splitting the scar across his cheek.
"Gods, I hope you resist. I pray you do."
His muscles tensed. His fingers twitched.
"Because I’ve been bored for centuries… and I’d love nothing more than for you to make this fun for me."
And then—he was on you.
Like a force of nature. Like the fist of an empire.
No words left to be spoken. Only war.
