Tyr had shown Kolbeinn he was not who he thought he was, he had taken off his shirt in this cold weather so he could truly excel with his combat prowess.
Kolbeinn smirked as he burst out laughing. Yes, Tyr was living up to his name as a son of Ragnar. This was the strength he expected.
Tyr had assimilated Kolbeinn's fighting style with the savages, this deserved praise as he had effectively made up his unique fighting style.
Kolbeinn knew he could not charge at him nor could he rely on his earlier tricks but this fight was not about superior strength, they could get one another to submit.
Tyr cracked his neck, he was ready for the third exchange and he intended for it to be the last.
Tyr pointed his axes to the sky and then pointed it at Kolbeinn but the moment he did, the light in his eyes vanished and Kolbeinn instinctively knew his life was in danger.