Kuja stares at the Invincible, drifting over the black fortress. Like so much else here, there’s a faint, ethereal sense to it, as though it’s not quite there. “The Reaper, no. Just a Doll with delusions of competence and more power than sense.”
He starts walking, again, at a brisk pace. There’s a glance back at Frisk, and a sigh. “The short version is that I spent over a decade playing along with Garland to avoid my own destruction, in an effort to obtain a weapon strong enough to challenge him. I’m not going to pretend there was any noble goal to stop him from wiping Gaia clean of life aside from the extreme inconvenience that would have been,” he sneers, coming to a stop as the path branches, one leading in the direction of the village and another up to a platform. “Here,” he says, climbing the steps. Carved into the stone is a circle, inlaid with runes in Terran. “We don’t need to walk the whole way, at least.”
This is where it ends, I suppose. It was never going to last forever, anyway.
Kuja waits for the others to catch up, arms crossed. “Today, I find out that my life’s work has been for nothing, that I’ve been outwitted at every turn, and that Garland, fully expecting me to turn traitor to his cause, built in an expiration date. That my days, such as they are, were numbered. I didn’t… take it gracefully.”