In Marvel with the Force?

As Tyr moved forward, the whisper turned into a low thrum, his Force sense sharpening. He reached the edge of the rooftop and gazed down at an abandoned warehouse. Faint markings glowed faintly on the rooftop below, their intricate patterns pulsing with an eerie light.

"Argos, what's that?" Tyr asked, narrowing his eyes.

The AI was silent for a moment before responding. "Unknown phenomenon. The markings do not correspond to any known technology or material."

That was enough for Tyr to draw his sword. He leapt down onto the warehouse rooftop, his boots landing silently a few feet from the glowing sigil.

The markings pulsed rhythmically, their glow intensifying as Tyr stepped closer. He reached out cautiously with his Force sense, but the sigil's energy was alien—neither technological nor fully natural.

"Argos," Tyr said quietly, "analyze this. I don't like it."

"Analyzing," the AI replied. "Warning: energy levels are spiking."

The glow of the sigil flared, and Tyr's instincts screamed. He dove backward just as the ground beneath his feet erupted in a burst of light.

The world around him twisted and blurred, the cityscape dissolving into a vortex of color and shadow. Tyr shouted, his voice swallowed by the distortion, as he was pulled into the void.

When the light faded, Tyr found himself standing in an alien landscape.

The sky was a swirling mass of black and red, with jagged streaks of lightning illuminating the desolate ground. Shattered ruins stretched into the distance, their architecture unfamiliar and ominous. The air was heavy, pressing against his chest like a physical weight.

"What the hell..." Tyr muttered, gripping his sword tightly.

His Force sense was chaotic, flooded with signals from all directions. The overwhelming noise made it hard to focus, but one thing was clear: he wasn't alone.

Shadows moved at the edges of his vision—silent, deliberate.

The first attack came without warning.

A figure lunged from the darkness, its form humanoid but twisted, its movements unnaturally fast. Tyr barely raised his sword in time to block the strike, the clash of steel ringing out across the desolate landscape.

The creature hissed, its glowing eyes locking onto him with predatory intent. Tyr shoved it back and swung his blade in a wide arc, cutting it down. The body crumbled into ash, dissipating into the air.

Before he could catch his breath, two more emerged, their forms flickering as though they weren't fully solid. They charged simultaneously, forcing Tyr to spin and parry their strikes with desperate precision.

His breathing grew heavy as the fight dragged on. The creatures weren't particularly strong, but they were relentless. For every one he defeated, two more took its place.

As the wave of enemies subsided, Tyr stood amidst the ash and ruin, his sword trembling in his hand. His Force sense throbbed, warning him of more threats lurking just beyond his sight.

"This isn't random," he muttered, scanning the area. "This is a test."

He wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing steadying. Whatever this place was, it wasn't designed to kill him outright—it was designed to break him.

His grip on his sword tightened. "You'll have to try harder than that."

Far above, the swirling sky seemed to shift, the storm intensifying. Shadows began to gather again, coalescing into new shapes—larger, faster, deadlier.

Tyr braced himself, his muscles tensing as the next wave descended. The creatures attacked with renewed ferocity, forcing him to push his combat skills and Force sense to their limits.

Each clash of steel echoed through the void, but Tyr didn't falter. His focus sharpened, his movements precise.

But even as he fought, a single thought gnawed at the back of his mind:

How do I get out of here?