Looking at the evolution of the crypto industry, you'll notice a quite interesting phenomenon.

On-chain gameplay is becoming increasingly diverse—transfers, settlements, collateralization, lending, derivatives, with logic layered upon layer. But at the same time, a crucial element is being overlooked by the entire ecosystem.

It's not price or state hashes, but tangible data—files, images, videos, texts, social relationships, behavioral records—these things. No one has ever considered them as core assets on the chain.

Ultimately, most blockchain systems are good at one thing: accounting. Who transferred how much to whom, how the state changes—these are familiar territory. But from a different perspective, ask yourself:

Will the content still exist in five years? Can the data be verified? Can it be shared across multiple applications?

The answers are quite sobering.

So the current situation is that a more and more rigorous on-chain financial system is promoting decentralization and immutability slogans on one side, while a large amount of core data is forced to be stored on Web2 servers on the other. Bought an NFT? The image is stored on a company's server. Posting content on-chain? The fate of the data entirely depends on the platform's face. You claim to own assets, but in reality, you still have to gamble on whether a company will suddenly shut down. It's quite ironic.

The core demand of the Walrus project, frankly, is aimed at this old stubborn problem. It’s not just about reducing costs; it fundamentally redefines the position of data within a decentralized system.