Death was a strange thing to grow accustomed to. But yet, as the young man pealed himself off the floor, his cracked skull miraculously healed, he was no more shaken. It wasn't like falling asleep and waking up. It was cold and draining. Right now, it felt as though he had just swam upstream in an icy river. Still, Ghost came back to fight. 

This was probably the worst place to have landed. He was standing square in the middle of the army of creatures, all of whom looked eager to put him back down. He could hold them off for a little, but the team had better get here fast.

He conjured up tendrils of inky black shadow and pushed back the first line of attackers. He wrapped the arms around the creatures, tossing them, shoving them aside, holding them off. But whatever these things were, they were strong. Throwing them into walls and into the ground didn't seem to have much effect. 

Still weakened from his latest death, Ghost was losing ground fast.