Healer Arlia, the renowned veterinarian for mythological creatures, was in her clinic when she heard a loud commotion outside. She went to the door to investigate and saw a group of villagers dragging a large, wounded minotaur into her clinic.

The minotaur had been attacked by a group of hunters, and its horn had been broken in the process. Arlia immediately went to work, examining the minotaur and trying to assess the extent of its injuries.

The minotaur groaned in pain as Arlia gently touched its broken horn. "Don't worry, I'll fix you up in no time," she reassured the minotaur.

"How bad is it?" asked one of the villagers who had brought the minotaur to her clinic.

"Well, the horn is broken, and there are some cuts and bruises. But with some rest and medication, the minotaur should make a full recovery," replied the healer.

"Thank you, thank you so much," said the minotaur weakly, his voice raspy. "I can't thank you enough."

The healer smiled at the minotaur. "It's all part of the job," she said. "I just want to help you feel better."

Over the next few days, Arlia tended to the minotaur, giving it medication for the pain and infection. She also helped to repair the broken horn, using a special adhesive made from a rare plant found only in the nearby forest.

As the days passed, the minotaur's strength slowly returned. "You're looking much better," complimented Arlia, as she examined the minotaur one final time. "Your horn has healed nicely, and your cuts are all gone."

"I feel much better, doc. Thank you so much," said the minotaur, as it rose to its feet.I

"It is my job after all," Arlia said with a soft laugh. "Helping creatures like yourself."

The minotaur paused, narrowing his eyes. "Do you only help creatures? Or can you help humans too? he asked.

"Just creatures. The world has enough people helping humans."

"Good." The minotaur nodded with determined satisfaction. "I feel better knowing I can break the hunters without you fixing them."

Part two

I escorted the Adventurer into my Father's home, feeling her suspicious glare as she followed me. "NPC?" I asked her as I rested the Iron Sword on a table. She used the term, one I felt a vague memory of but could not define.

"Non-Playable Character," she replied. "That's what you are. Or at least, what I thought you were."

"What does that even mean?" Her words were abstract, meaningless. I understood each word at the individual level, but together they were nothing to me.

She sighed, eyeing me the whole time. "What's your name?" she asked. "What do you do here?"

My brows narrowed in confusion. The change of conversation was sudden. "Theo. I'm the Blacksmith's Apprentice."

She nodded. "And your Father? What does he do?"

"He's the Blacksmith."

"And his name?"

"My Father's name? It's ... My Father is called ..." My brain halted. My Father had a name. Of course he did. A name I should know. And yet, I didn't know. My Father was simply Father. The Blacksmith. "I don't know," I admitted.

"That's what I thought," the Adventurer said. "So, he's the Blacksmith and your the Apprentice. When did that start?"

Again, mouth opened even though the answer was unknown to me. I simply had no idea how long I'd been the Apprentice for. "I don't know," I repeated softly. "I think I've always been the Apprentice."

"Because you're an NPC. You're just a string of data. A set of actions and responses." Her look was one of pity. "Or you're supposed to be. But, somehow, you are so much more than that."

"So, I'm nothing." I slumped onto the ground. "Just a simple character with no goal?"

"You were," she replied. I looked up as she offered me the Iron Sword from the table, my Great-Grandfather's Armour in her other hand. "But now you have the chance to be so much more."

I looked across the forge, staring at the Adventurer as she walked towards the town's blacksmith, or as I knew him, Father.

The Adventurer didn't look like anything too special, twin daggers adorned her sheaths attached to luminous golden armour. One of her daggers, a deep ebony black in contrast to the steel one, shone with an ethereal blue glow, and I could see the Rune inscription on the hilt.

Maybe she was more powerful than I thought. I briefly wondered what she was discussing with my Father, the conversation too long to be a simple bartering exchange.

My musings were broken by the roar, like a booming crack of thunder, as the Dragon neared the village. Its scales, red like the blood of its victims, reflected the sunlight as it flew closer and closer.

I gripped the weapon I was working on, a simple iron sword, tight enough that my knuckles turned white and my nails marked my flesh.

And yet, I was the only one.

The Adventurer and my Father were still in conversation. The village guards patrolled the path. The fisherman continued to fish in blatant ignorance of the danger.

I hurried to the Adventurer and my Father. My Father spoke to the Adventurer as I came closer. "Thank you for recovering my Grandfather's Armour. It has been -"

"Sorry to interrupt," I lied, "but a Dragon approaches and we must ready for battle."

The Adventurer gave me a look of confused surprise at my words.

My Father took the opposite approach. His words halted as he glanced at me before he returned his attention to the Adventurer. "Thank you for recovering my Grandfather's Armour, he repeated. "It has -"

"Father!" I shouted, the Dragon circling the village overhead. "The Dragon is here! We must fight or die."

He looked at me again, with no understanding in his eyes. "Thank you for recovering my Gra-"

The Adventurer gave a loud sigh. "Getting bored of this dialogue now," she complained. She scaled the side of my Father's home and leapt as the Dragon approached. Her Runed Dagger swiped through the air at the beasts throat, killing it instantly as the blade met flesh. She calmly stared at the body before nodding contently and returning to my Father.

He looked at her, disregarding the Dragon corpse near his forge. "Thank you for recovering my Grandfather's Armour. It has been been in my family for generations. However I fear my adventuring days are gone. You may keep the armour. Now, I must return to my work." He walked to his forge and began heating the metal within.

I looked at my Father in disbelief. He was ignorant, ignoring the Adventurer skill and the Dragon. The Adventurer stood before me. "You," she stated. "Who are you?" I opened my mouth to respond, but she spoke again. Actually, better question. What are you? Because you're definitely not a normal NPC."

A person moves into a house with an old doll after the former owners die. The doll keeps moving leading to the person thinking the doll is possessed. The doll is not possessed, but the truth is far more horrifying.