F I N K Y

Tôi lần đầu tiên nhận thấy điều đó theo cách mà bạn nhận thấy nhiều thứ trong crypto: không phải thông qua một buổi ra mắt lớn, không phải thông qua một cuộc phỏng vấn với nhà sáng lập, mà thông qua một ghi chú phát hành SDK khiêm tốn trông như nó dành cho đúng mười hai người trên Trái Đất.

Một thay đổi duy nhất: thư viện Sessions giờ đây cho phép một nhà phát triển chọn token SPL nào sẽ được sử dụng để tính phí cho paymaster trong sendTransaction.

Trên bề mặt, đó là ergonomics của nhà phát triển. Một cái núm nhỏ. Một cải tiến về chất lượng cuộc sống.

Thực tế, đó là một tuyên bố im lặng về quyền lực: khi ứng dụng quyết định bạn sẽ trả bao nhiêu—trong một quy trình được tiếp thị là “bạn không phải nghĩ về phí”—thì ứng dụng không chỉ làm mượt trải nghiệm. Nó đang đặt ra các điều kiện cho trải nghiệm.

I went looking for Vanar expecting the usual story: a chain borrowing the language of AI and hoping the market fills in the blanks. What I found instead was something less poetic and more telling—a fee system described like a billing policy.

In Vanar’s own documentation, the network aims to charge end users a fixed transaction cost worth about half a tenth of a cent in dollar terms, and it tries to keep that number steady by updating the token’s reference price at the protocol level on a schedule. It even spells out that the price is checked against multiple market data sources so the chain can keep the “dollar-ish” fee stable as the token moves. That’s not the kind of detail teams emphasize when they’re selling vibes. It’s the kind of detail you write down when you expect real software to run on top of you and you don’t want developers guessing what “cheap” means tomorrow.

That decision quietly shapes everything else Vanar is trying to do. If you’re serious about “AI infrastructure,” you’re implicitly serious about volume—thousands of tiny, boring actions. Agents don’t make one heroic transaction; they make many small ones. Apps that manage context don’t post once a day; they constantly touch data. A fixed-fee schedule is Vanar’s way of making that behavior financially legible. It’s less “look how low our gas is” and more “you can put this in a spreadsheet.”

From there, the project’s stack starts to read like a product plan rather than a manifesto. Vanar describes an architecture built around a base execution layer and additional layers, including Neutron (positioned as a data layer) and Kayon (positioned as a reasoning layer). On the website, the roadmap continues with Axon and Flows marked as “coming soon,” which is standard—what’s less standard is that one of the layers already shows up as something you can pay for.

myNeutron is framed as an “AI memory” vault—prompts, notes, files, bundles—meant to be reusable across different AI workflows, with “Seeds” as the unit it tracks. The site publishes plan tiers with monthly quotas and prices, plus the option to pay annually. It also lays out billing rules in its terms, like recurring billing and what happens when you cancel. That’s ordinary SaaS plumbing, and that’s precisely why it matters: ordinary plumbing is where recurring demand comes from.

Vanar also makes a very specific technical claim around compression—turning large files into much smaller “Seeds” while keeping them verifiable and usable on-chain, with an example converting 25MB to 50KB. I’m cautious with that kind of number because compression isn’t magic; it depends on the data, the method, and what you’re actually preserving. But even if you set the headline ratio aside, the intent is clear: they want “memory” to be something you can store, move, and reference without treating storage as a luxury item.

This is where the “sustainable economic demand” question stops being abstract. A lot of projects talk about adoption as if it’s a weather pattern. Vanar is trying to manufacture it with subscriptions. The simplest way to stress-test that ambition is to ignore the token talk and ask a more blunt question: will people keep paying for the tool once the novelty wears off?

If they do, the chain gets two kinds of activity that don’t rely on speculation. One is the payment itself—subscription revenue that is, by nature, repeatable. The second is the downstream usage: the steady trickle of writes, updates, and retrieval operations a memory product generates when it becomes part of someone’s routine. You don’t need a million hobby apps for that; you need one habit that sticks.

There’s a second theme running underneath all of this, and it’s less comfortable: control. Vanar’s documentation describes a hybrid consensus approach centered on Proof of Authority governed by Proof of Reputation, with the foundation initially running validator nodes and onboarding external validators over time through a reputation mechanism. That’s a deliberate trade-off. You can build smoother performance and simpler coordination that way, and you can make the validator set more legible to institutions. You also accept that early decentralization is curated, and the project’s credibility becomes tied to how that control loosens—by what timeline, under what rules, and with what ability for outsiders to verify the process isn’t drifting into permanent permissioning.

Even the sustainability angle has this “practical but incomplete” feel. In the validator setup documentation, Vanar encourages running nodes in regions with very high carbon-free energy, explicitly naming a >90% threshold as a preference signal. That’s more operational specificity than most chains offer. But broader environmental claims generally need third-party measurement and transparent methodology to be taken seriously outside the crypto bubble, and that part still feels more like direction than audit-ready reporting.

On partnerships, there’s one that sounds important in a way that could actually change usage patterns: payments. In early 2025, Vanar and Worldpay announced a strategic partnership aimed at web3 payment solutions, framing it as a bridge between blockchain rails and mainstream payment infrastructure. It’s the kind of announcement that can either become quietly meaningful—if it turns into real settlement volume—or remain a press artifact. The gap between those two outcomes is execution, not branding.

As for how the market is treating Vanar right now, you don’t have to overthink it. Live trackers show a token that’s still far from its prior highs. That isn’t proof of failure; it’s a reflection that the “AI-native” pitch hasn’t yet become an easily verified stream of receipts in the public mind. If the subscription layer ever becomes visible as real, repeatable usage, the narrative won’t need polishing. The numbers will speak.

What keeps Vanar interesting, for me, isn’t the grand promise. It’s the attempt to make on-chain activity feel like infrastructure—predictable fees, packaged tools, recurring billing—because that’s how you get demand that survives market moods. If they pull it off, it won’t look like a hype cycle. It’ll look like something people stop arguing about because it simply stays in use.

#vanar @Vanarchain $VANRY

Một Ngã Tư Quy Định cho Sáng Tạo Tài Chính Phát Triển Nhanh Nhất Của Mỹ

Vào năm 2026, các thị trường dự đoán không còn là một thí nghiệm ngách bị ẩn giấu trong các vòng tròn học thuật hoặc diễn đàn công nghệ. Chúng đã bước vào ánh đèn quy định, kích hoạt một trong những cuộc tranh luận về quyền tài phán quan trọng nhất trong lịch sử tài chính hiện đại. Ở trung tâm của cuộc tranh cãi là (CFTC), cơ quan này ngày càng khẳng định quyền lực đối với các thị trường giao dịch dựa trên sự kiện.

Câu hỏi trung tâm định hình cuộc trò chuyện quốc gia thật đơn giản nhưng lại có hậu quả sâu sắc: