In Marvel with the Force?

Tyr stood in the endless void, his chest heaving as ash and shadows scattered around him. His body screamed in protest, the relentless waves of attackers pushing him beyond exhaustion. Still, the eerie silence between battles gave him no comfort.

The storm above churned, lightning streaking across the swirling black-and-red sky. Shadows moved at the edge of his vision, circling like predators waiting for the right moment to strike.

This place is testing me, Tyr thought grimly. But for what?

His grip on his sword tightened as he turned to face the encroaching darkness. He didn't know how long he'd been fighting—minutes, hours, it was impossible to tell in this timeless hellscape.

The next wave came faster than the last.

The creatures materialized out of the void, their forms flickering like broken holograms. Their movements were faster now, more coordinated, and they came at him from all sides.

Tyr's Force sense flared, warning him of an attack from his left. He spun, deflecting the blow with his blade, but another attacker closed in from behind. He ducked just in time, the creature's weapon missing him by inches.

"Persistent bastards," he muttered, stepping back to create distance.

The creatures advanced in unison, their glowing eyes locked onto him with predatory intent. Tyr exhaled sharply, shifting his stance.

Stay focused. Don't overthink it. One step at a time.

The battle raged on, each clash of steel echoing through the void. Tyr moved with precision, his strikes efficient and deadly, but the sheer number of enemies began to wear him down.

He felt the strain in his muscles, the growing fatigue slowing his reactions. His breathing grew heavier, his sword movements less fluid.

As another creature lunged at him, Tyr parried the strike, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling backward. He barely had time to recover before another attacker was upon him.

I can't keep this up, he thought, gritting his teeth.

The creatures circled him like wolves, their attacks coming faster and harder. Tyr dodged and countered with every ounce of strength he had, but it wasn't enough.

A blade sliced across his side, tearing through his armor and drawing blood. He staggered, his vision blurring as pain shot through him.

"Damn it," he hissed, gripping his sword tightly.

The creatures closed in, sensing his weakness. Tyr's Force sense flared again, warning him of the onslaught to come.

Think, Tyr. You've been in worse situations.

He steadied his breathing, focusing on the rhythm he had practiced countless times. Each inhale and exhale brought a surge of energy, the Force flowing through him like a lifeline.

At the peak of the battle, something changed.

The world around him seemed to slow. The creatures' movements became sluggish, their attacks telegraphed seconds before they landed.

At first, Tyr thought it was fatigue playing tricks on his mind. But as he dodged an attack with uncanny precision and countered before the next blow even came, he realized it wasn't an illusion.

I'm seeing it before it happens, he thought, his heart pounding.

The realization hit him like a thunderclap. His Force sense had evolved, giving him brief glimpses of the immediate future.

The change in his fighting style was immediate.

Tyr no longer reacted to the creatures' attacks—he anticipated them. His movements were sharp and deliberate, each strike landing with calculated precision.

A blade aimed for his chest was deflected before it could come close. Another attacker's ambush was met with a perfectly timed counterstrike.

The new ability was overwhelming at first, the flood of information threatening to distract him. But Tyr forced himself to focus, narrowing his perception to only the most immediate threats.

The endless wave of enemies continued, but now Tyr had the upper hand. He cut through the creatures with ruthless efficiency, his sword a blur of motion as he dismantled the opposition.

Still, the strain on his body grew. His precognition demanded intense concentration, and his Force Breathing pushed his endurance to the brink.

By the time the final wave subsided, Tyr was on his knees, gasping for air. His sword hung limply in his hand, its blade streaked with ash and blood.

The void fell silent once more, the storm above calming slightly.

Tyr wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing steadying as he scanned the desolate landscape.

"Force precognition," he muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's new."

His moment of triumph was short-lived. In the distance, new shadows began to form, their shapes darker and more menacing than before.

Tyr forced himself to his feet, his grip tightening on his sword. He had no idea how long he'd been here—or how much longer he would have to endure.

But one thing was certain: the trials were far from over.