Fyodor had done it.

He had obtained The Book. The Book which can bring anything written on it into reality. An incredibly powerful item.

His purple eyes focused on the book as his fingers held a pen to the page, however it didn't move.

There was a pause of thoughts as he considered how to proceed.

Finally, he moved the pen, writing down three words.

"The perfect human."

It was curiosity that pushed him to this decision. Curiosity to see which human was considered to be 'perfect' by The Book.

Fyodor understood that the book didn't create people, it could bring people from other universes into this one but it couldn't create.

That meant that the being that would be 'created' now would be the closest human to being perfect.

There was a moment of silence before there was a bright light.

And then, there was a woman in the room, on the floor.