Many people talk about blockchain scalability, and the reflex response is TPS, latency, and transaction fees; the larger the numbers, the better. But once the main character changes from 'human' to 'AI agent', this evaluation system immediately becomes ineffective. Agents don't care whether the confirmation is 1 second or 5 seconds; they only care about one thing: stability and whether it will go out of control. Kite clearly understands this point; it has no intention of pushing extreme performance but focuses on the more realistic issue of whether the system can still be controlled as it scales up.
The real difficulty in scalability has never been transaction volume, but coordination costs. As agents increase, the issue is not merely a few more transactions, but their interactions become exponentially more complex. Without clear boundaries, a small bug or an instance of overreach can easily escalate to a level where humans can't react in time. Kite's approach is straightforward: it doesn't give you unlimited permissions but instead fragments power, time, and scenarios. Even with more agents, it just results in a bunch of 'constrained behaviors' instead of a pile of uncontrolled risk sources.
This is actually challenging a hidden rule of traditional blockchain: as long as the underlying layer is fast and cheap enough, the upper-level issues will eventually solve themselves. But reality has harshly educated us on this logic—congestion, MEV, governance inefficiencies, and misaligned incentives are almost all the aftereffects of 'focusing on performance without considering structure.' Kite does the opposite; it would rather define the behavioral structure from the beginning, even at the cost of some flexibility. In plain language: first set the rules, then talk about freedom.
In the payment scenario, the differences are most evident. In the agency world, payment is not an event of 'pressing a button' but a continuous running process. AI may adjust resources and settle costs thousands of times in a single day. If every operation is equivalent to a permanent authorization, the system will eventually crash. Kite separates 'frequent actions' from 'long-term power' with session-level payments. You can keep acting, but you cannot have unlimited permissions all the time, which is very crucial.
This restraint is actually a conclusion drawn from the losses experienced during the early cycles of infrastructure. If the system expands too quickly, it often overlooks second-order effects; in a human-dominated world, these issues only gradually emerge. But agencies are different; they will immediately exploit all vulnerabilities to the max. Kite does not naively assume that agencies will be 'well-behaved,' but rather defaults to the belief that they will squeeze every inch of space. Designing systems based on this reality is not pessimism; it is maturity.
Even the rhythm of $KITE tokens follows this line of thought. Many projects come out of the gate with full staking, governance, and economic models, resulting in permanently solidifying risks before even understanding the behavioral patterns. Kite chooses to observe first and then open up, treating economic power as something that needs to be gradually unlocked rather than proclaiming sovereignty from the start. This slowness may not be attractive, but it is very safe.
From this perspective, the future judgment of whether 'agency-based blockchains' can scale may not fundamentally be about performance scores but rather about failure modes: how high is the frequency of problems? How big can a single failure explode? Can the system recover by itself without any oversight? Kite may not have provided a perfect answer, but at least it is asking the right questions. In an era where software begins to make decisions for us, being stable may be more important than being fast.
