The mighty armies, counted by akṣauhiṇīs and filled with soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants, were destined for destruction. Yet, the king of Magadha was not to be slain, for it was foreseen that he would gather his strength and assemble another force. The purpose for which the Lord had descended was clear: to relieve the earth of its heavy burden, to protect the virtuous, and to destroy those who threatened righteousness. To uphold dharma, the Lord would assume yet another form, ensuring that whenever adharma arose, it would be checked and brought to an end. As Govinda contemplated these divine intentions, two radiant chariots, shining like the sun and complete with drivers and all necessary arms, suddenly appeared from the sky. Along with them, ancient and divine weapons manifested, as if by providence. Seeing these marvels, Hṛṣīkeśa turned to Saṅkarṣaṇa and spoke: “Behold, O noble one, the calamity that has come upon the Yadus, O Lord of those descended to earth. Here stand your chariot and your beloved weapons.” He continued, “Indeed, it is for this very purpose that we have taken birth, O Lord, bringer of happiness to the virtuous: to remove the burden of the earth, represented by these twenty-three armies.” After consulting together, the two sons of the Dasharha line, ever resolute and armed for battle since time immemorial, set forth, equipped with their weapons and accompanied by a small but valiant force. Hari, with Daruka as his charioteer, sounded his conch as they departed. At its mighty blast, terror and trembling arose in the hearts of the enemy soldiers. When the king of Magadha saw them, he sneered and said, “O Krishna, lowest of men, I do not wish to fight you, a mere boy, out of shame; nor with you, who hide behind others, O dullard. Go away, destroyer of kin, I will not fight you. But you, Rama, if you have faith, fight and show your courage. Either abandon your body, cut down by my arrows, and ascend to heaven, or kill me.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Truly, heroes do not boast; they simply display their valor. We do not heed the words of one distressed and facing death, O King.” Then, as Shuka narrates, the son of Jara rushed at the two Madhavas, surrounding them with a mighty host of chariots, elephants, horses, and banners, like the wind enveloping the sun and fire with clouds of dust. The women, witnessing the two chariots of Hari and Rama, marked with the emblems of Garuda and the palm tree, in the midst of the battle, fled to the ancient towers, palaces, and gateways for refuge, overcome with grief and confusion. Hari, seeing his own army—honored by gods and demons—afflicted again and again by the fierce rain of enemy arrows, drew his supreme Sharnga bow and sounded it with a thunderous twang. He drew arrow after arrow from his quiver, stringing and releasing volleys of sharp shafts, striking down chariots, elephants, horses, and foot soldiers. The whirling discus never left his hand. Elephants with shattered tusks fell in great numbers; horses, their necks severed by arrows, collapsed; chariots, their horses, banners, drivers, and leaders slain, and foot soldiers with arms, thighs, and necks cut, lay scattered on the field. As the limbs of elephants, horses, and men were severed, rivers of blood flowed in hundreds, filled with arms, horse heads, human skulls, and turtle-like torsos, crowded with the corpses of slain elephants, horses, and warriors. These rivers had waves of arms, hair as waterweeds, bows as currents, and were choked with clusters of weapons. Terrifying whirlpools formed from spinning swords, sparkling with gems, pearls, ornaments, and stones. In that fierce battle, Saṅkarṣaṇa, of immeasurable brilliance, wielded his mace, striking down the arrogant foes. The timid were filled with terror, while the brave rejoiced, as the warriors destroyed one another. The army, vast and dreadful as a sea of fire, guarded by the king of Magadha and seemingly insurmountable, was utterly destroyed by the sons of Vasudeva, whose play is supreme in the world. He whose power, infinite in qualities, brings about the creation, maintenance, and destruction of the three worlds by his own play—what wonder is it that he should subdue his enemies? Yet, for the sake of mortals, these deeds are described. In the end, Rama seized Jarasandha, mighty though he was, after his chariot was destroyed and his army slain, just as a lion seizes another lion, overpowering him by sheer strength. But Govinda stopped him from being bound with human or Varuna's ropes, after his enemies had been slain, so that a certain purpose might yet be fulfilled. Freed by the Lords of the world, Jarasandha, esteemed among heroes, felt deep shame. Resolved upon penance, he was blocked on the road by the kings. Defeat came upon him through the Yadus, as a result of his own actions, not only by their words and glances, whose meanings were pure. With all his forces destroyed, the king of the Barhadratha line was disregarded by the Blessed One and departed for Magadha, troubled in mind. Mukunda, his strength unscathed and having crossed the ocean of enemy forces, was showered with flowers and praised by the gods. The people of Mathura, free from distress and joyful in spirit, gathered to greet him, and his victory was sung by charioteers, bards, and minstrels. Conch shells and drums resounded, trumpets and horns were played, and the Lord entered the city accompanied by lyres, flutes, and mridangas. The streets were sprinkled, the people rejoiced, adorned with flags, echoing with the sound of Vedic chants, and festooned with decorated gateways. He was honored by women with garlands, yogurt, and sprouting grains, and gazed upon with loving, eager eyes. All the wealth, endless and adorned with the ornaments of heroes, gained in battle, was brought and presented by the Lord to the king of the Yadus. Thus, the king of Magadha, with a force as great as seventeen akṣauhiṇīs, fought repeatedly with the Yadus, who were protected by Krishna. The Vṛṣṇis, empowered by Krishna's brilliance, destroyed all that force; and when his own troops were slain, the king was abandoned by his allies and departed. Yet, as the eighteenth battle was about to begin, a hero sent by Narada—a Yavana—appeared in their midst. This foreigner besieged Mathura with three million barbarian troops; in the world of men, he was unmatched, having heard of the Vṛṣṇis, his equals. Seeing him, Krishna, accompanied by Saṅkarṣaṇa, thought, “Alas, a great calamity has come upon the Yadus from both sides. This Yavana, immensely powerful, is besieging us today; the king of Magadha will arrive either today, tomorrow, or the day after. If Jarasandha comes while we are engaged in battle, he will either kill our kinsmen or, being strong, carry them off to his own city.