The Black Waltzes existed only to kill. Such is how he designed them to be: killing machines not unlike a standard black mage, but with a mind capable of independent thought.
Funny, the cynical voice in his mind quietly snarks, that sounds like Garland's Angels of Death.
He laughs, for there is no way he is like a Black Waltz. He was beyond the Black Waltzes! He was superior to them; didn't he create them with his own hands, his own magic, with the sweat and grime from his fingers and brow?
That cynical voice in his mind laughs, coldly and cruely. I wonder if Garland said the same thing before we turned on him.
Kuja scoffs, and then grins fiendishly. Garland? Fuck Garland. Garland was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The old fool could haunt him no more; he was free, free, free! Free to do as he pleased once more, only this time, there was no plan he had to adhere to!
He laughs once more, his boots landing against the roots of the Iifa Tree.
It's close. It won't be long now. The Crystal, the theoretic source of all life, lies ahead. Death is waiting - waiting for him, waiting for its release, waiting for the destruction of all living things.
"For if I am going to die, I'll take the world with me," he whispers, taking a step forward.
Is that neccessary? scolds another voice: his conscience, or what little of it remains. The black mages will all stop. The humans will die. The Genomes will die. Queen Garnet will die, eventually. Even Zidane will die, in time.
But Kuja doesn't care, and he continues his march forward - forward to his goal, to his ambition, to his destiny. His conscience sighs and retreats into the corner of his mind, never to speak again.
No one can stop him. No one has ever been able to stop him. No one will be able to stop this ultimate Trance, either. His painted lips curl into a smile, and he brushes strands of his glowing red hair out of his eyes.
Will Zidane come? He rhetorically asks. He scoffs, and then sneers. Of course he will come. Zidane's the star of his little play, after all. What a wonderful tragedy it will make - the young hero who struggled against the odds, defied the villains at every turn, gaining skill after ability and found that precious thing known as love... only to be killed by the villain himself, leaving all that effort for waste, just like all lives are.
Death was the end; death was the finality of life and the world. Kuja was not destroying the world; he was merely closing the curtain now, rather than later.
He lives for the death, the chaos, and the mayhem, like his oh-so-beloved black mages and Black Waltzes. But is he like them? He bursts into laughter again, continuing to drown in his madness. He is no soulless puppet, he is no one's doll! He is Kuja, the first Angel of Death, master to him and only himself.
And his destiny lies ahead, waiting for him. His glowing red tail quivers in excitement as the doors to Memoria open before him, bringing him mere steps closer to the Crystal. The final act has begun at last, and Kuja smirks in triumph as he calmly walks into the realm of Memoria.
The Black Waltzes existed only to kill.
And in the end, Kuja exists only to destroy.