Having taken leave of the elders of the Kuru dynasty, the revered sages, and Pritha with her sons, and noticing exceedingly dire omens, Krishna made his way to Dvaraka. Upon his arrival, he spoke to his noble friends, saying, “I have come here with you all, for the kings allied with the Chedi are surely preparing to attack my city.” Surveying the slaughter among his own people and making arrangements to defend Dvaraka, Krishna—Keshava—spoke to his charioteer Daruka about the threat posed by Saubha and its king, Shalva. “Charioteer,” Krishna commanded, “bring my chariot quickly into the presence of Shalva. Do not be afraid, for this king of Saubha is a master of illusion.” Obediently, Daruka mounted the chariot and drove forth. All those present, both friend and foe, beheld Arjuna’s younger brother—Krishna—entering the field of battle. Shalva, whose forces had been nearly destroyed, saw Krishna and, with a terrible roar, hurled a spear at Krishna’s charioteer in the heat of battle. That weapon, blazing through the sky like a great meteor and illuminating the quarters, was shattered into a hundred pieces by Krishna’s swift arrows. Then, with sixteen arrows, Krishna pierced Shalva and struck the aerial Saubha city as it moved through the sky, showering it with arrows as the sun bathes the earth with its rays. In retaliation, Shalva struck the left arm of Krishna—the wielder of the Sharnga bow—and broke the Sharnga from his hand, a wondrous and startling sight. A great outcry arose among all who witnessed this, and Shalva, roaring loudly, addressed Krishna, the Lord Janardana. He cried, “Fool! Because of you, our friend—my own brother-in-law—was slain in the assembly, and his wife was 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 to stand before me.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Your boasting is in vain, dull-witted one, for you do not see Death standing near. True heroes show their valor in deeds, not in many words.” Having spoken, Krishna struck Shalva furiously on the chest with his terrible mace. Shalva trembled and vomited blood from the force of the blow. But when the mace was repelled, Shalva suddenly vanished. Then, after a moment, a man approached Krishna—Achyuta—bowed before him, 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. He became dejected and compassionate, speaking as an ordinary man might: “How could my father, mighty and unconcerned Rama—unconquered by gods and demons alike—be carried away by Shalva, a mere lesser man? Such is the power of fate.” As Govinda spoke thus, the lord of Saubha appeared, and, bringing forth Krishna as Vasudeva had been brought, he said, “Here is your father, the one for whom you live in this world. I will kill him before your eyes. If you are truly the Lord, protect him, O foolish one.” Rebuking Krishna, the deceiver drew his sword, seized Anakadundubhi’s head, and, taking it, entered the Saubha fortress in the sky. For a moment, Krishna—the great-souled one—was overcome by his natural affection, surrounded by his own people. But soon he realized this was a demonic illusion, conjured by Shalva at Maya’s instruction. Awakened on the battlefield, Achyuta saw neither the messenger nor his father’s body. Like a man waking from a dream, he beheld his enemy in the sky, stationed on Saubha, ready to strike. Thus, some sages speak, O royal sage, but if their words contradict themselves, surely they do not truly remember. Where are grief and delusion, where is affection or fear—born of ignorance—when one possesses unbroken wisdom, undiminished knowledge, and lordship? By serving his feet and gaining self-knowledge, the wise destroy the beginningless grip of self-delusion. They attain their own infinite lordship—how could confusion touch one who has reached the Supreme? Then, as Shalva attacked with a multitude of weapons, the mighty Krishna, whose valor never fails, struck him with arrows, shattered his armor, bow, and crown, and smashed his enemy’s Saubha fortress with his mace. Struck by Krishna’s mace, the Saubha was crushed by his hand and fell into the water in a thousand pieces. Abandoning it, Shalva took up his mace, stood on the ground, and swiftly rushed at Achyuta. As Shalva charged with his mace, Krishna severed his arm with a razor-sharp arrow. Then, taking up his wondrous discus, blazing like the sun at the end of time, Krishna prepared to slay Shalva, who shone like the rising sun. With that very discus, Hari struck off the head of the master of illusions, adorned with earrings and crown, just as Indra slew Vritra with his thunderbolt. Among men there arose cries of “Alas!” When that wicked one fell and Saubha was destroyed by the mace, celestial drums resounded in the sky, played by the hosts of gods. Then Dantavakra, in 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. The next chapter begins with 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 left this world, was met by Krishna with transcendental friendship. Then, a single foot-soldier, furious and wielding a mace, shaking the earth as he approached, was seen coming, 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, spoke to Mukunda: “By fortune, by great fortune, you have today come within my sight. You are our maternal uncle, O Krishna, yet you seek to kill me, your friend and ally. Therefore, O fool, I shall strike you down with my mace, hard as a thunderbolt. Then I shall be free of my debt, O friend of friends, by slaying an enemy who appears as a relative—just as one destroys a disease dwelling in the body.” With harsh words that stung like goads, he assailed Krishna as one would prod an elephant, and struck him on the head with his mace, roaring like a lion. Yet, though struck on the battlefield, Krishna—the foremost of the Yadus—did not move; and with his own mace, Kaumodaki, he struck his foe in the chest.