Jayachandra, upon seeing Lakṣaṇa, was filled with deep affection and love. In the fullness of his heart, he bestowed further gifts—cows, fine garments, and splendid ornaments. The Sūta then spoke, recounting how the king had once obtained a boon from Śaṅkara himself, having worshipped the great lord of kings. With this divine favor, Jayachandra set out for the city called Śirīṣa, accompanied by a great force of seven lakhs. But Sukhakhāni, furious and determined, gathered an army of a hundred thousand and marched forth to meet him. Wielding a fiery weapon, Sukhakhāni unleashed its power, slaying ten thousand in a blazing assault. He cried out, “Today, either you shall fall by my hand, or I shall fall by yours in battle!” Hearing this challenge, the king seized his bow and a fierce weapon, ready for the fray. Sukhakhāni in turn prepared the dreadful missile of fire to subdue his foe. When the weapon had accomplished its purpose, it returned and entered Śiva’s own quiver, its power spent. Taking up the cause of his brother’s enmity, Jayachandra struck down the enemy’s forces with vigor. Yet, as he watched the battle unfold, he was bewildered by the might and superiority of the opposing army. At a distance of a krosha, he himself dug twelve great pits as a strategic defense. After overcoming the bravest of the heroes, he leapt across all twelve pits in a single bound. When the king spoke truthfully and pleasingly, his words reached the ears of a great hero. This hero, seeing the pits, slew hundreds upon hundreds of warriors on the field. At that moment, Cāmuṇḍa arrived, armed with countless arrows. He struck down the mighty divisions and the great army arrayed against him. Yet there was a thirteenth pit, cleverly hidden beneath grass and earth. Into this concealed trap fell the hero, together with a pigeon, both led by the workings of fate. There, the foot of the lotus-born son of Vatsa was torn, and in his pain he struck out at the king’s army with his own feet. Then Cāmuṇḍa appeared once again and, in a swift stroke, severed the head of Balakhāna. When Gajamuktā heard of her husband’s death, she placed his body upon the funeral pyre, honoring him in sorrow. At that solemn moment, Brahmā himself, accompanied by his consort, came to the place. In the aftermath, the king, overcome by wrath and grief, reduced the city to ashes, leaving it utterly desolate. Yet, ever drawn to conflict, the king journeyed to the festival of serpents. There, amidst song and dance, he witnessed the vibrant celebration. O king, in the village of Mahāvatī, in the heart of Kīrtisāgara, instructions were given: “Go there and do exactly as I say.” Hearing these words, the king, with Dhuṃdhukāra by his side, made his way into the Śirīṣa forest and made his dwelling there. The lord of the earth, bowing to the king of the lunar dynasty, announced, “O king, the lord of the earth has come, seeking battle, and stands before you; after worshipping the divine liṅga, he will seize it by force.” Therefore, it was decided that, together with his own forces and with wise counsel, they would prepare for what was to come. King Parimala, mighty and driven by fate, heard this and acted swiftly. He slew five thousand valiant Kshatriya warriors who lay there on the field. Rising up with haste, the great king fastened his belt, ready for combat. As the two armies clashed, Malana, longing for a son, turned her prayers to the goddess: “O goddess, O great goddess, destroyer of all suffering!” She recited the sacred mantra ten thousand times, performing oblations and offerings with devotion. Yet, a great calamity was foretold for Malana; she would perish, and the advice was given, “Do not grieve.” Having spoken thus, the goddess Sharada departed, turning towards the portion of Krishna, and declared: “She will soon perish; therefore, you must rescue her.” Thus, the tapestry of fate, valor, and divine intervention continued to unfold among kings, warriors, and gods.