He bowed respectfully before his wise maternal uncle and the other distinguished members of the assembly. At the king’s command, preparations were made by the warriors to imprison him. Yet, the ruler—wicked in mind—deceived the king and acted according to his own designs. At that moment, the hero was awakened by the divine power of Māyā. This mighty warrior, filled with valor, mounted his horse and, after slaying five hundred foes, reached the earthly city. There, weary from battle, he set his mind on quenching his thirst. By a well, he saw noble women busily filling their water pots. Captivated by their beauty, he watched as they began to act with enchanting allure. Shaking off their spell, he ventured into the forest, vanquished his enemy, and bound both adversaries. Upon hearing sorrowful words, the hero abandoned his own city and departed. News of these events reached King Parimala, who responded by bestowing wealth upon the twice-born. When the eleventh year arrived, during the dark fortnight and a time of war-madness, the king, overcome by fear, sent the proper tribute to his sister. His sister, seeing her brother in distress, came to him. Resolute, she declared, “Today, with my own forces, I will go to that great city.” With these words, she summoned Dhundhukara, the mighty one. Heroes of remarkable strength, mounted on horses and camels, gathered for the cause. Devasimha, wise and discerning the right moment, learned of the enemy's advance. Hearing this, King Parimala was seized with agitation and fear. “Today, I, along with Dhundhukara and his army, will confront the great king,” he resolved. Bowing in respect, he took command of the army. With an army of four hundred thousand, they marched to battle. In the midst of the fray, they stood intoxicated with valor, striking terror into their enemies. Raising a tumultuous sound, they surged forward. They advanced with thousands of missile-hurling machines—three thousand and five thousand in number. An army of sixty thousand approached their own realm. The timid among them fled, while the heroes—the Valakhilyas—scattered in all directions. Horses crashed against horses, camels collided with camels in the chaos. Seeing their own mighty forces overwhelmed, the Hāhā spirits cried out in distress. Brahmanda, with his arrows, sent the enemies to the abode of Yama. Balakhani, wielding his sword, struck down the Krishnas as well. Witnessing the defeat of his army, Dhundhukara, mighty in strength, was filled with rage. In the midst of joy and faintness, Devasimha, of great might, appeared. Yet he suffered a grievous wound and, mounted on an elephant, lost consciousness. Vatsaja, sword in hand, cut down the weapons and missiles of his foes. When the enemy host was slain, the survivors fled the field. Then Shivadattavara, powerful and majestic, arrived on an elephant. He honored Āhlāda and the heroic Deva, son of Parimala. Worshipping the missile-launchers, he unleashed a great slaughter upon the enemy. Meanwhile, the mighty Sukhakhani, riding a pigeon as his steed, descended by the aerial route. By his power, he caused the king of the earth, his own kin, and all their mounts to lose consciousness, bringing the tumultuous battle to a dramatic turn.