Within Guilliman's soul world, the siege of Macragge continued.
Hill moved through the crowd.
The streets were packed with terrified civilians, wrapped in tattered robes and clutching their few possessions as they scattered beneath burning eaves.
Explosions, clashing steel, women's screams, and men's roars mingled into a chaotic din that battered every wall like a tide.
Hill pushed against the stream of people, his gaze sweeping over his surroundings as his mind raced, piecing scattered clues into a complete picture.
From the shouts rising all around him, he gradually confirmed which era he had entered.
These were the early days of King Konor's rule over Macragge, and this siege was the coup launched by Galan, the Joint Consul serving under him.
The closer he came to the city center, the more evident the chaos became.
Countless buildings had been looted by Galan's rioters. Shop doors had been pried open, shelves overturned, and broken tiles and cloth strewn across the muddy streets. Several fires spat orange-red tongues of flame, sending thick smoke into the low-hanging sky.
The rioters were like a pack of wild dogs driven mad, clutching stolen goods and letting out slurred cheers and arguments. Some even drew blades on one another in the street over a golden cup.
In the distance, the Consulate perched high above the city was already surrounded on all sides. Its gates were tightly shut, and a few guards could just be seen atop the walls, busy preparing its defenses.
Shouts cut through the noisy streets, reaching Hill's ears clearly: "The Consulate where King Konor and his steward, Lady Euten, are staying is under siege!"
Without hesitation, Hill strode toward the Consulate, ready to kill his way through.
He no longer concealed himself or dodged the crowds, but drove straight toward the building like