National Games Showdown: I Can See the Clearance Prompts

The moment the national games showdown started, the whole world went crazy. The rules are announced: Each country randomly sends a citizen into an unknown dungeon. If he passes the customs, the country will be prosperous and its resources will be doubled; if it fails, the country will sink and all life will be in ruins. And my eyes suddenly saw something that others couldn't see - the clearance prompt. The first level. The most powerful special forces soldier in the beautiful country, armed with heavy firepower, was torn into pieces by the "smiling guest" at the end of the corridor. The psychic girl from Sakura Kingdom covets the reflection in the mirror and gets lost in the infinite corridor. And I, looking at the light golden writing emerging under my feet, just bent down and picked up the dusty red ball on the corner of the table, and pushed open the third door on the left with the wrong color. The second level, the third level, the twelfth level. When the world fell into panic and countless geniuses collapsed and went crazy under the impact of weird logic, I became the only one who arrived at the safe house three seconds early every time. The camera of the global live broadcast was pointed at me, and the audience rubbed their eyes in disbelief. They covet my eyes that see the rules, but they can never take anything away from me. I don't need teammates or comfort. All those who try to interfere with my judgment and make me "put in a little more effort" fall at the door of the dungeon. I am always carrying the cries, applause and undecided bets of hundreds of millions of people. But as the difficulty of the dungeon increases, a crisis that has never appeared on the prompt board is about to begin. At the beginning of some copies, there is no golden writing, only a row of bloody words as silent as street lights on the edge of a cliff. I know that the killing intent from those who have passed the endgame is targeting me at the source.