Kuja almost smiles. Here, here is what a soldier might call a 'target-rich environment'. As Sephiroth and Megatron add their attempts to control the crowd, admirable though they might be- he wonders- Is there really going to be an opportunity to use it better than this one?

Time to show the fruits of all that labor. He rises into the air, azure fire gathering, swirling, forming into orbs of raw magic that rise into the air- and then explode, bathing the rabble in a thousand bolts of light.

He's left breathless, at the end of it, touching back to the floor and having to adjust his hair. It'd always been a rush like nothing else, casting [Ultima]. "Minor time-saving measure. Goodness, it's been too long since I've used that spell."