Kuja, perhaps, has a skewed view on what age someone becomes capable of entering dangerous situations. He was, after all, more or less killed by a group that contained people aged fifteen, six, and one.

As he falls through the mist, there's something out there, a shape too murky to make out, only the merest sense of size, of something as large as a house- and Kuja feels, once again, faint, as the cloud becomes almost too thick to see through.

"Stay close," he calls, as the sense of vertigo takes over. "Something's happ-"
His feet touch down on stone, and the vertigo fades. Kuja is left staring off into the distance, pale and- frightened.

It is a beautiful world, at first glance. Clear blue skies that stretch as far as the eye can see, massive azure fungi dotting the landscape, cerulean stone pathways and cobalt-tinted soil... of course, when one actually takes the time to look at the beauty around them... one realizes that this world is almost entirely barren, devoid of life. The world is silent, with only the wind to break the peace.

Welcome to Terra.