One of the few things they shared was that lack of regret for anything, anything at all. The past was how it was and they wouldn't change a second of it because they were of the future, and built on that; at least Nike built on the future. Lavish surroundings, the lap of luxury, Nike had already reaped part of the rewards he was entitled to-- that Sora was entitled to. The Gem King grinned, brunting the knee to his gut as well, giving a short grunt, digging his fingers in tighter-- he was a dog with prey in maw and he'd be damned if he'd let go for such a simple reason as pain swimming, spreading out from his stomach in a weblike fashion, tendrils shooting out, then the filling in between them, it hurt but the man was used to pain, it only cost him a moment of recoil from it, the hold loosening, but he released it anyway, choosing to fall, putting his chest forward, diving to bodyslam the other.
Sora'd be proud of his brother for pulling such a wrestler's move, really. Using his bulk and the momentum, estimating it would take a second for the traitor to recover, so throwing himself into it all should be worth it, right? The man thought, calculating angles all the while, feeling the wind shift and tangle and there was an air in it, an air tasting of triumph, of blood, thrumming in his soul.
He hadn't even bothered to use the Regalia, he mused, at least, not yet. That wasn't even a factor in play here just now, though the vibrations ran his psyche, that constant beat, dig dig dig dig, he could feel it shaking his bones, but no, he would not use the Gem Regalia just yet, or at all, considering. He just wanted to win this, and cause such an immense amount of pain to the younger man. Certainly, he was more brutal, more driven, as Sora was to Simca, Nike was more ruthless and motivated, he had more reason for thins, this was only a small step on the path to victory.