Then, as the battle raged, Krishna drew sharp arrows from his quiver, swiftly stringing his bow and releasing volley after volley. His shafts struck down chariots, elephants, horses, and foot soldiers, all while the whirling discus never left his hand. The field became a scene of devastation—elephants with shattered tusks fell in great numbers, horses collapsed with their necks severed by arrows, and chariots were destroyed, their horses, banners, drivers, and leaders all slain. Foot soldiers lay scattered, their arms, thighs, and necks cut. From the severed limbs of elephants, horses, and men, rivers of blood began to flow in hundreds. These gruesome streams were filled with arms, horse heads, human skulls, and turtle-like torsos, crowded with the bodies of slain elephants, horses, and warriors. The rivers had waves formed by arms, hair floating like waterweeds, and bows creating swift currents. Clusters of weapons choked the streams, terrifying whirlpools spun with swords, and everywhere gems, pearls, ornaments, and stones sparkled amidst the carnage. In the midst of this dreadful battle, Sankarshana—of immeasurable brilliance—wielded his mighty mace. He struck down the arrogant foes, causing terror among the timid and joy among the brave, as the warriors destroyed each other in the chaos. The army, vast and dreadful as a blazing sea of fire and guarded by the king of Magadha, seemed insurmountable. Yet, it was utterly destroyed by the sons of Vasudeva, whose play is supreme in the world. He, whose power is infinite and whose qualities bring about the creation, maintenance, and destruction of the three worlds by his own divine play—what wonder is there in his subduing of enemies? Still, for the sake of mortals, these deeds are described. When Jarasandha’s chariot was destroyed and his army slain, Rama seized him—mighty though he was—just as a lion seizes another lion, overpowering him by sheer strength. Yet, as his enemies lay defeated, Govinda stopped Rama from binding Jarasandha with human or Varuna’s ropes, wishing to accomplish a certain purpose. 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. His defeat at the hands of the Yadus—brought about by their pure words, subtle meanings, and even their ordinary glances—was the result of his own actions. With all his forces destroyed, the king of the Barhadratha line was disregarded by the Blessed One and departed for Magadha, his mind troubled. 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, now free from distress and joyful in spirit, approached him. Charioteers, bards, and minstrels sang of his victory. Conch shells and drums resounded, many trumpets and horns were played, and as the Lord entered the city, he was accompanied by the music of lyres, flutes, and mridangas. The streets were sprinkled with water, the people were joyful and adorned with flags, the air echoed with the sound of Vedic chants, and decorated gateways festooned the city. Women honored him with garlands, yogurt, and sprouting grains, gazing upon him 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 akshauhinis, fought repeatedly with the Yadus, who were protected by Krishna. The Vrishnis, empowered by Krishna’s brilliance, destroyed all that force. When his own troops were slain, the king was abandoned by his allies and departed. As the eighteenth battle was about to occur, a hero sent by Narada—the Yavana—appeared in the midst. This foreigner besieged Mathura with three million barbarian troops; in the world of men, he was unmatched, having heard of the Vrishnis, his equals. Seeing this, Krishna, accompanied by Sankarshana, 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. Therefore, today we shall build a fortress, difficult for men to approach. There, after settling our kinsmen, we will destroy the Yavana.” Thus, after due deliberation, the Blessed Lord created a fortress twelve yojanas wide—a wondrous city within the sea. There the skill of Tvashtri could be seen, with expert craftsmanship in its streets, crossroads, and avenues, all constructed according to proper architectural principles. The city was adorned with celestial trees and gardens, marvelous groves, and towers of gold reaching the sky, with crystal mansions and gateways. Silver and gold turrets gleamed, treasuries were decorated with golden jars, houses were crowned with jewels, and great emerald platforms shone. The city was built with the houses of the guardians of the quarters and with the residences of beloved women. It was filled with people of all four varnas and shone with the homes of the Yadu gods. Sudharma, the divine assembly hall, and the Parijata tree were sent there by Indra, where even mortals residing there were not subject to mortal limitations. Varuna gave dark-colored horses, swift as the mind and white in hue; the lord of treasures gave eight treasuries; and the guardians of the worlds gave all their own opulences. Whatever lordship had been granted by the Blessed Lord for their own perfection, all of it they returned to Hari when He descended to earth. There, by the power of yoga, Hari brought all the people. After consulting with Rama, the protector of the people, Krishna left the city gate, garlanded with lotuses and unarmed. Then, as Krishna emerged, shining like the rising moon, most beautiful to behold, dark in complexion, and clad in yellow silk, his appearance was resplendent. The Srivatsa mark was upon his chest, the Kaustubha gem radiant at his throat. He was broad, tall, four-armed, and his eyes were like fresh red lotuses. Ever joyful and glorious, his rounded cheeks and pure smile shone, his lotus-like face adorned with brilliant makara-shaped earrings. Indeed, this was Vasudeva himself, marked by the Srivatsa, four-armed, lotus-eyed, and adorned with a forest garland, supremely beautiful. By the signs described by Narada, none other could be so; and seeing him unarmed, the Yavana resolved, “Unarmed, walking on foot, I shall fight him unarmed.