As the tumultuous events unfolded, the blessed Hari—having abandoned his wondrous female form—struck terror into the hearts of the demons, wielding dreadful weapons with divine might. Near the salt waters, a great and most terrible battle erupted between the gods and the demons. Thousands of broad, sharp spears and keen-pointed javelins rained down, along with a myriad of other weapons, filling the air with deadly force. The demons, pierced by Hari’s discus and bleeding profusely, wounded by swords, spears, maces, and clubs, fell to the earth in agony. Heads adorned with garlands of heated gold were severed by cruel axes, dropping continuously amidst the chaos. Mighty demons, their limbs smeared with blood, lay slain upon the battlefield, resembling mountain peaks stained with mineral red. All around, thousands of shouts arose as combatants struck one another with weapons, while the sun itself turned crimson in the sky. The clash of sharp iron clubs and fists in close quarters sent a roar that seemed to reach the very heavens. Everywhere could be heard dreadful cries: “Cut! Break! Run! Strike down! Attack!”—echoing on all sides. As the tumultuous and terrifying battle raged, the two divine ones, Nara and Nārāyaṇa, entered the conflict. Witnessing Nara’s divine bow, the blessed Lord Viṣṇu, slayer of demons, contemplated his own mighty discus. As soon as he thought of it, the Sudarshana discus appeared from the sky—brilliant and unbroken like the sun’s circle, a tormentor of foes, dreadful to behold in battle. Blazing like sacrificial fire, the terrifying discus was hurled by the mighty-armed Acyuta with great force and fierce speed. It shone as it flew, intent on destroying the cities of the enemy. Sudarshana, equal in brilliance to the fire of destruction, fell again and again, tearing apart thousands of Diti’s sons, launched by the best of men in battle. At times, like a blazing fire consuming all, Viṣṇu fiercely struck down the hosts of asuras, hurling them into the sky and onto the earth again and again. On the battlefield, he drank blood like a ghoul, his wrath unrelenting. The asuras, their spirits broken, assailed the hosts of gods repeatedly with mountains. Their great strength and brilliance faded, like scattered clouds, and they rushed by the thousands into the sky. From above, terrifying mountains of many forms, with trees still upon them and resembling masses of clouds, crashed down. Their peaks shattered as they collided, producing a great roar. The earth and its forests trembled all around, struck by the falling mountains. As the battle raged fiercely, the mountains themselves roared at each other again and again. Then, a man adorned with the finest golden ornaments filled the sky with mighty arrows. His shafts split the mountain peaks, striking terror into the asura hosts in the midst of that great conflict. The asuras, afflicted by the gods, entered the earth and the salt ocean for refuge. Seeing the Sudarshana discus blazing like kindled fire and raging in the sky, they were filled with terror. After the gods had attained victory, Mandara was respectfully returned to its own place. The sky and heavens resounded as all the clouds departed, just as they had come. The gods, filled with abundant joy, carefully secured the nectar, entrusting that treasure of amrita to the crowned one, the slayer of Bala, to guard it together with the immortals. Thus, the tale of how the nectar was churned and the glorious, peerless horse was born has been told. Then Kadru, upon seeing the horse, said to Vinata, “Tell me quickly, dear one, what is the color of Uccaiḥśravas?” Vinata replied, “This king of horses is surely white—or what do you think, lovely one? Tell me its color too, and then let us make a wager on it.” Kadru countered, “I think this horse is black-maned, O fair-smiling one. Come, let us wager together, and the loser shall become the servant of the other, O beautiful lady.” With this mutual agreement, they both went to their own homes, saying, “Tomorrow we shall see.” Kadru, wishing to win, instructed her thousand sons, the snakes, to become black hairs upon the horse. “Quickly enter the horse, so that I may not become a servant,” she commanded. Those serpents who did not obey her words she cursed: “During the snake-sacrifice, fire will consume you all, at the hands of Janamejaya, the wise royal sage descended from the Pandavas.” But Brahma himself heard Kadru’s cruel curse and recognized it as divinely ordained. Together with all the hosts of gods, he approved her speech, wishing for the welfare of beings, seeing the multitude of serpents. These snakes, fierce in strength and venom, are mighty; because of their sharp poison and for the welfare of living beings, a measure was set for them and for those other creatures always intent on wrongdoing. For them, death is ordained by divine law as punishment. Having spoken thus, the god honored Kadru at that time. The creator, having summoned Kasyapa, spoke: “These snakes and serpents have been born from you, O sinless one. Endowed with poison, possessing great power, and cursed by their mother, O scorcher of foes, you should not, dear one, harbor anger in this matter in any way. This ancient destruction of snakes in the sacrifice has been seen.” Having thus spoken, the creator god pleased the lord of creatures and gave to the great-souled Kasyapa the knowledge that removes poison. When the serpents were thus cursed, O best of twice-born, Karkotaka, undisturbed by that curse, spoke to Kadru. The best of serpents, greatly pleased, addressed his mother; entering the chief horse, he became a child with a body shining like collyrium. Thus, the story flows from the churning of the ocean and the birth of the celestial horse, through the fierce battle and the divine interventions, to the wager between Kadru and Vinata, the cunning of Kadru’s serpents, and the curse that would shape the fate of the snakes.