Gregor's breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to maintain his grip on reality. Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision, whispering voices creeping into his mind, each one a ghost from his past. He saw the faces of those he had slain, their eyes hollow, their mouths twisting into cruel smiles. His grip tightened around the Umbral Doomstaff as his paranoia took hold.
"No... you're dead..." he muttered, shaking his head violently. The hallucinations did not fade. Instead, they multiplied, surrounding him in a nightmarish haze. "You can't be here!" he roared, his voice laced with fury and fear. Images of his victims played in his mind, each one a reminder of the bloodshed he had caused.
In his madness, Gregor lashed out, casting powerful spells at the phantoms only he could see. Bolts of dark energy erupted from his staff, tearing through the battlefield, leaving craters in their wake. Each strike was wild, undirected—a desperate attempt to banish his tormentors.
