The young ghost did not care about the creature's words. What he cared the least about was the 'us'. That thing and him were nothing alike. He had not stolen someone else's place, he had not worked with the abomination that was Higgs. He had been created in this world against his will. He had longed for death and been denied it. No, there was no 'us'.
"We are nothing alike. Leave," he said. There was a coldness in his tone. For a moment, he regained more of a presence. His translucent self gaining some substance. Light was flickering in the background as the dead god stared the other being down. Maybe there was an advantage to being dead. What could possibly happen to him now?