Once a mortal alchemist obsessed with forbidden Soul Recursion, he tried to bring spirits back to their dead bodies. He succeeded—and paid dearly. His soul was consumed by the Night Star, a dying celestial god, and in its place, something else rose: part ghost, part god, all debt collector.

Now he drifts through shattered graveyards and battlefields, reaping souls with Debtweaver, his cursed scythe. Not out of cruelty—out of cosmic duty. Every soul owes something, and Ghostgod always collects… with interest.



The green fire he wields is shaped by sorrow. Some say the trapped souls whisper regrets. Others claim they tell bad jokes. Either way, if he’s pointing at you—it’s already too late.
The Night Star watches. And Ghostgod smiles.