Partha, feeling as if he had been cast aside, addressed Karna, who stood unwavering among his brothers. With a voice edged by challenge, Arjuna declared, “Karna, those who intrude or speak uninvited attain worlds fit for such acts—by striking you down, I shall send you there.” But Karna, unshaken, replied, “This arena is open to all, Phalguna. What claim do you have here? Among kings, valor determines greatness, and true strength follows righteousness. Why waste your arrows and effort on the weak, O Bharata? Speak plainly—before our teacher’s eyes, I will take your head today with my arrows.” Then, with Drona’s permission, Partha—conqueror of enemy cities—was quickly embraced by his brothers and stepped forward to face Karna in battle. Karna, too, prepared himself, receiving a warm embrace from his brother Duryodhana. Gripping his bow and arrows, he stood ready. Suddenly, the sky darkened; clouds gathered, streaked with cranes, flashing with lightning and rumbling with thunder—signs of Indra’s power. Yet, out of affection, the sun, seeing the son of Hari’s horse gazing upon the arena, drew near and dispersed the massed clouds. Thus, Partha was obscured in shadow, while Karna stood radiant in sunlight. Where Karna stood, the sons of Dhritarashtra assembled; where Partha stood, there gathered Bharadvaja, Kripa, and Bhishma. The arena itself became divided, as did the onlookers, with even the women split in their loyalties. Kunti, the daughter of Kuntibhoja, grasped the truth of the moment and fell into confusion. Seeing her so distressed, Vidura—wise in all dharma—comforted Kunti, bringing attendants and cool sandalwood water to ease her mind. Regaining her senses, Kunti watched her two sons anxiously, yet deeply troubled, she could do nothing. At that moment, Kripa, son of Sharadvat, skilled in the laws of single combat and learned in dharma, spoke to the two warriors, their mighty bows raised. He announced, “This is Arjuna, youngest son of Pritha and Pandu; the Kaurava wishes to face you in single combat. But you, mighty Karna, must declare your mother, father, and lineage before these kings, for you are the ornament of your clan. Only then may Partha accept your challenge, for princes do not fight with those of unknown birth.” Hearing this, Karna’s face fell in shame, like a lotus battered by rain. He replied, “Teacher, the scriptures speak of three kinds of royal birth: one by noble family, one by heroism, and one by leading armies. Fire comes from water, the warrior from Brahman, iron from stone; energy is everywhere, but rests in its own source. If Phalguna will not fight me without a king’s command, then I shall anoint him king—in the land of Anga.” So, after addressing the king and Bhishma, the son of Ganga, Duryodhana gathered the necessary materials for the consecration with the help of the twice-born Brahmanas. He gave ten thousand cows in charity and had the Brahmanas declare, “He is worthy of the kingdom of Anga.” In that very moment, Karna, the great chariot-warrior, was consecrated king of Anga. He was anointed with jars adorned with sandalwood and flowers, golden vessels, and seated upon a golden throne by those skilled in mantras. Clad in royal diadem, necklace, armlets, and bracelets, Karna shone with splendor and strength. The royal insignia, auspicious ornaments, white umbrellas, and fans surrounded him, as shouts of victory rang out. Then Karna, that bull among men, turned to Duryodhana, the Kaurava king, and asked, “What gift shall I give you in return for this kingdom?” Duryodhana replied, “I desire your utmost friendship.” Karna agreed, “So be it.” The two embraced in joy, attaining the highest delight. At that moment, Adhiratha, Karna’s father, entered the arena, his upper garment slipping, sweating and trembling as if summoned by fate itself. Seeing his father, Karna, out of respect, set aside his bow and bowed his head, still wet from the consecration. Adhiratha, trembling, covered his son’s feet with the edge of his garment and, calling him “Son,” revealed his heart’s meaning. Overcome with affection, he embraced Karna and wept tears upon his head, still damp from the Anga consecration. Witnessing that Karna was the son of a charioteer, Bhimasena, the Pandava, laughed and spoke harshly, “You are not worthy, son of a charioteer, to be slain by Partha in battle. Take up the whip instead, as suits your lineage. Nor are you fit, wretch among men, to enjoy the kingdom of Anga—just as a dog is unfit to taste the sacrificial offering by the fire.” Karna’s lips quivered slightly at these words. He exhaled toward the sky and gazed at the sun. Duryodhana, mighty in strength, sprang up in anger from among his brothers, like a maddened elephant from a lotus pond. He spoke sternly to Bhimasena, “Vrikodara, such words are unworthy of you. A kshatriya must always display his greatest strength; the origins of the brave and of rivers are difficult to discern.” Thus, the arena was alive with tension and divided loyalties, as fate set the stage for the destinies of Arjuna and Karna.