In 48 BC, the Library of Alexandria was destroyed in a fire, and centuries of human knowledge vanished in an instant.

The root cause of this tragedy is simple—knowledge was concentrated in a fragile place.

Two thousand years have passed in the blink of an eye, yet we seem to be repeating the same mistakes.

Look at today’s Web3 and digital world. Every day, massive amounts of data are generated: AI model parameters, blockchain transaction records, NFT assets, game content, and various real-world data. These "most decentralized systems" ironically still have highly centralized underlying data. If a cloud service goes down, the blockchain continues to operate, but applications become useless shells.

A protocol has chosen to learn from this history and redefine how data should be stored. It doesn’t aim to freeze all data permanently but to disperse it, making it verifiable and manageable.

Using erasure coding technology, large files are broken into pieces and stored across numerous nodes. Even if some nodes go offline, the entire data can still be recovered. The system can automatically repair missing parts, avoiding the huge costs for the entire network caused by a single failure.

More importantly, this system entrusts the "rights and rules of data" to be enforced on-chain. Data availability, access permissions, and payment methods are all transparent and verifiable. Data no longer relies on the conscience of a centralized institution but is guaranteed by the protocol layer itself.

In the future, when AI agents need reliable data sources, when NFTs and gaming projects cannot afford to lose metadata, and when real-world data begins to be stored on-chain, storage issues will move from the background to the forefront—becoming the infrastructure that determines how far digital civilization can go.

History is actually asking us: how far a civilization can go depends not only on innovation but also on whether memory can be properly preserved.

Perhaps this is why distributed storage deserves a re-examination.