With the battle raging fiercely, Krishna, the Lord of the Yadus, took up his bow and skillfully loosed his arrows. With four arrows, he struck Shalva’s four horses; with another, he wounded the charioteer; two more shattered the enemy’s bow and banner, and finally, he struck Shalva’s head with a well-aimed shaft. Meanwhile, Gada, Sātyaki, Sāmba, and other valiant Yadava warriors fell upon the forces of Shalva, the lord of Saubha. The warriors of Saubha, their necks severed in the clash, fell lifeless into the sea, their numbers swiftly diminishing. The battle grew ever more tumultuous and dreadful, with Yadus and Shalva’s forces locked in relentless combat. For twenty-seven days and nights, the slaughter continued without pause, the field echoing with the sounds of war and the cries of the fallen. During this time, Krishna had been invited by Yudhishthira, the son of Dharma, to Indraprastha. After the great Rājasūya sacrifice was completed and Shishupala was slain, Krishna took leave of the elders of the Kuru dynasty, the revered sages, and Pritha with her sons. He noticed terrible omens and, with a heavy heart, returned to Dvārakā. Addressing his kin, Krishna said, “I have come here, joined by noble friends; the kings allied with the Chedi are surely about to attack my city.” Observing the devastation among his people and making arrangements for the city’s defense, Keshava spoke to his charioteer, Daruka, about the threat posed by Saubha and King Shalva. “Charioteer,” Krishna commanded, “bring my chariot quickly to Shalva’s presence. Do not be afraid, for this king of Saubha is a master of illusion.” Obediently, Daruka mounted the chariot and drove forth. All—both friend and foe—saw Krishna, Arjuna’s younger brother, entering the field of battle. Shalva, now nearly bereft of his forces, saw Krishna and, roaring terribly, hurled a spear at Daruka. The weapon blazed through the sky like a great meteor, illuminating the quarters, but Krishna shattered it into a hundred pieces with his arrows. Then, with sixteen arrows, Krishna pierced Shalva, and with a shower of shafts he struck the Saubha city as it moved in the sky, just as the sun sends its rays across the world. Enraged, Shalva struck Krishna’s left arm and, with a mighty blow, broke the Sharnga bow from Krishna’s hand—a wondrous and terrible sight. A great outcry rose among all who witnessed it. Shalva, roaring, addressed Janardana: “Fool! Because of you, our friend—my brother-in-law—was slain in the assembly, and his wife abducted, while you acted recklessly. Today, with sharp arrows, I will send you—who think yourself invincible—on a path of no return, if you dare stand before me!” The Blessed Lord replied, “In vain you boast, dull-witted one. You do not see Death standing near. True heroes show their valor in deeds, not in many words.” Having spoken thus, Krishna, in his fury, struck Shalva on the chest with his dreadful mace. Shalva trembled and vomited blood, but when the mace was repelled, Shalva vanished from sight. Suddenly, a man approached Krishna, bowed, and, weeping, spoke: “I am sent by Devaki. Krishna, Krishna, mighty-armed one, your father, who loves you dearly, has been bound and carried away by Shalva and his men, like a beast.” Hearing this grievous news, Krishna, overcome by affection, assumed a human disposition. His heart heavy with compassion, he spoke as any ordinary man would: “How could my father, mighty and unconcerned Balarama—unconquered by gods and demons—be carried away by Shalva, a mere lesser man? Such is the power of fate.” As Govinda thus lamented, Shalva appeared, bringing forth Vasudeva as a captive, and said, “Here is your father, the one for whom you live in this world. I will kill him before your eyes. If you are the Lord, protect him, O foolish one.” Thus taunting Krishna, the deceiver drew his sword, seized Anakadundubhi’s head, and, taking it, entered the Saubha fortress in the sky. For a moment, Krishna, great-souled and surrounded by his people, was overcome by natural affection. But soon he realized this was a demonic illusion, conjured by Shalva at the behest of Maya. Awakened to the truth, Krishna saw neither the messenger nor his father’s body on the battlefield. Like a man waking from a dream, he beheld his enemy in the sky, stationed on Saubha, ready to strike. Some sages speak of such events, O royal sage, but if their words contradict themselves, surely they do not truly remember. Where are grief and delusion, affection or fear—born of ignorance—when one’s wisdom and knowledge remain undiminished and lordship unbroken? By serving Krishna’s feet and gaining self-knowledge, the wise destroy the beginningless grip of self-delusion, attaining their own infinite lordship. How could confusion touch one who has reached the Supreme? As Shalva attacked with a multitude of weapons, Krishna, whose valor never fails, struck him with arrows, shattering his armor, bow, and crown. With his mace, Krishna smashed the Saubha fortress of his enemy. Struck by Krishna’s mace, the Saubha was crushed and fell into the water in a thousand pieces. Abandoning his ruined city, Shalva took up his mace, stood on the ground, and rushed swiftly at Krishna. As Shalva charged, Krishna severed his arm with a razor-sharp arrow. Then, taking up his wondrous discus, blazing like the sun at the world’s end, Krishna prepared to slay Shalva, who shone like the rising sun. With that discus, Hari struck off the head of the master of illusions, adorned with earrings and crown, just as Indra slew Vritra with his thunderbolt. Cries of “Alas!” arose among men. When Shalva fell and Saubha was destroyed, celestial drums resounded in the sky, played by the hosts of gods. Then Dantavakra, burning with anger, came forward to avenge his friend. Thus ends the seventy-seventh chapter, called “The Slaying of Shalva,” in the tenth book, second half, of the great and sacred Bhagavata Purana. Now begins the seventy-eighth chapter: The killing of Dantavakra and Viduratha, and the beheading of Suta by Balarama. Shuka said: The wickedness of Shishupala, Shalva, Paundraka, and others, even after they had departed this world, was met by Krishna with transcendental friendship. Then, a single foot-soldier, furious and wielding a mace, shaking the earth as he came, was seen approaching, O great king, with immense strength. Seeing him advance, Krishna quickly seized his own mace, leapt down from his chariot, and confronted him, like the ocean meeting the shore. Raising his mace, the Kārūṣa, arrogant with pride, addressed Mukunda, saying, “By fortune, by great fortune, you have today come within my sight.