The Death of Conquest: A Symbolic End or a Missed Opportunity?
When I first watched the latest episode of Invincible, titled You Look Horrible, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of satisfaction and unease. Mark Grayson finally defeated Conquest, a villain whose brutality had become almost emblematic of the show’s darker themes. But as the dust settled—literally, with Nolan burying Conquest—I found myself questioning: was this the right move?
The Brutality of Closure
One thing that immediately stands out is the sheer brutality of Conquest’s demise. Mark doesn’t just defeat him; he strangles him while Conquest punches his stomach open. It’s visceral, raw, and undeniably satisfying—especially for fans who’ve been waiting for Mark to assert himself. But here’s where it gets interesting: this isn’t just a physical battle. It’s a symbolic one. Conquest represents the worst of the Viltrumite ideology—relentless, unyielding, and devoid of empathy. By killing him, Mark isn’t just ending a threat; he’s rejecting that ideology.
What many people don’t realize is that this moment mirrors Mark’s own internal struggle. Throughout the series, he’s grappled with his Viltrumite heritage, torn between his human upbringing and his alien instincts. Conquest’s death feels like a turning point, a declaration that Mark chooses humanity over brutality. But is it that simple?
Conquest’s Monologue: A Missed Opportunity?
In my opinion, the most fascinating aspect of Conquest’s character was his season 3 monologue. When he admitted to being lonely, to being a victim of his own success, it humanized him in a way that felt both tragic and profound. Personally, I think this was a missed opportunity. Yes, the comics confirm his death, and the show stayed true to that. But what if they hadn’t?
If you take a step back and think about it, Conquest’s redemption could have been a game-changer. Viltrumites, as we know, are capable of change—Nolan is living proof. Conquest’s monologue hinted at a deeper vulnerability, a longing for something more than his predetermined purpose. Killing him off feels almost like a cop-out, a way to avoid exploring the complexities of his character.
This raises a deeper question: are villains like Conquest truly irredeemable? Or do we, as an audience, crave their downfall because it’s easier than confronting the possibility of change?
The Stinger: A Reverse Jump Scare
The post-credits scene is a masterclass in subverting expectations. Just when you think Conquest might rise again—a trope we’ve seen a thousand times—nothing happens. It’s a reverse jump scare, playing on our suspicions and leaving us with a sense of finality. But here’s the thing: it’s also a bit anticlimactic.
From my perspective, this scene feels like a commentary on our expectations as viewers. We’re so conditioned to expect resurrections, twists, and last-minute saves that the show’s decision to do nothing feels almost revolutionary. It’s saying, No, this time, he’s really dead. But is that enough?
Broader Implications: The Viltrumite Arc
What this really suggests is that Invincible is setting up a larger narrative about the Viltrumites. Conquest’s death isn’t just about him; it’s about the culture that created him. His monologue laid the groundwork for understanding that even the most vicious Viltrumites are products of their environment.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how this ties into Nolan’s arc. If Nolan can change, why not others? Conquest’s death feels like a missed chance to explore that question further. Instead, we’re left with a grave and a sense of finality.
Looking Ahead: What’s Next for Invincible?
Personally, I’m curious about where the show goes from here. With Conquest gone, who will fill the void? Will we see other Viltrumites grapple with their own identities, or will the focus shift entirely? One thing’s for sure: Invincible has never been afraid to take risks, and I’m excited to see what they do next.
In conclusion, Conquest’s death is a powerful moment, but it’s also a bittersweet one. It closes a chapter but leaves me wondering what could have been. If you ask me, that’s the mark of great storytelling—it leaves you thinking long after the credits roll.
