In the depths of an abandoned Arknights facility lies a child unlike any other—Raven. At just four years old, he knows no normal life, no warmth, no laughter… only shadows and whispers of a power beyond comprehension.
Raised by a young girl named Emma, Raven begins to awaken to the darkness that surrounds him—a darkness that is not evil, but a force ancient and absolute, a shadow learning to exist.
As he grows, the lines between reality and nightmare blur. Powers beyond the natural, mysteries older than the world itself, and entities that defy understanding will challenge him at every step.
“I Am Who I Am” is a dark fantasy epic that follows Raven’s journey from a forgotten child in a shadowed room to a being capable of shaping the fate of worlds. A story of identity, power, and the thin veil between light and darkness, where every choice echoes through time and the shadows of history.

Priestess did not leave the church immediately. She stayed. Sat in the front row, where worshippers usually sit, but she sat alone. The church was empty, except for the cross and the sound of her breathing.  


She paused. She did not know what to say next. Prayers are preserved when the heart is steady, but her heart was not. Should she ask for forgiveness? For what? For fear? For doubt? Or for a child who did not ask to be born?  


Priestess was not ignorant. She knew the texts. She knew the interpretations. She knew the history of heresies and events once described as "departures from divine will." But she also knew that true faith does not require full understanding. And this… frightened her.  


Finally, she lifted her head. The cross was there. Wooden. Steady. She wondered—for the first time in years—if the cross was a symbol of salvation, or a silent witness to humanity's inability to understand. She heard no answer.  


The guilt was not in the decision. The guilt was not in the exile. The guilt was in the relief she felt when the decision was made. A brief relief. Clean. Then followed by emptiness. And that emptiness was harsher than fear.  


There was a confessional room behind the church. Two chairs. A wooden barrier. She did not enter it. She did not know to whom to confess. To God? Or to herself?  


"If the child is a Trial… is failing to bear him a sin?"  


The question was not written in any record. But it carved itself into her chest.  


Night came. The church grew darker, but she did not light the candles. She sat in the darkness. And there, for the first time, she felt that faith does not always mean reassurance. Sometimes… it means staying with guilt.  


She did not vow. She did not swear. She did not make a pact. But she said to herself:  


Not mercy. Nor pity. But an attempt not to let it end completely.  


That night, sin was not erased. Guilt was not forgiven. But they became part of the prayer. And from that day on, whenever Priestess knelt, she knew that a child carried the trace of her decision, and that trace would not vanish into silence. Because some sins do not seek forgiveness… they wait to be faced.


Chapter 5 - Chapter 5 – I Sin without confession