The tumult at Dakṣa’s sacrifice erupted with wild chaos. Some beings roared ferociously, others let out strange and unearthly noises, while still others rushed about with incredible speed, moving as swiftly as the wind or even the mind itself. In the midst of this frenzy, the sacred vessels and altars—so carefully arranged for the sacrifice—were shattered to pieces. As they broke apart, they seemed to vanish from sight, disappearing like stars fading from the night sky. Amid this destruction, astonishing sights appeared: heaps of celestial food and drink, piled as high as mountains, and rivers of milk and ghee flowed freely. Streams of sweet rice and curds appeared alongside divine channels of honeyed water, their sands made of crystal sugar, while other delightful streams carried molasses of every variety, offering all six tastes to delight the senses. There were meats of every kind, both high and low, and all manner of celestial delicacies—anything that could be licked, sucked, or savored. With countless mouths, the fierce hosts devoured, plundered, and scattered this abundance of food. Filled with Rudra’s wrath, their fury blazed like the fire of cosmic destruction. They devoured with the appetite of mountains, terrifying all in their path, changing forms at will and hurling the celestial women about in their wild play. At the center of this storm stood the mighty Vīrabhadra, empowered by Rudra’s wrath and surrounded by these fearsome hosts, protected by all the gods. Near Bhadrakālī, they swiftly destroyed the sacrifice, making dreadful sounds that struck terror into the hearts of all beings. Some among them cut off the very head of the sacrifice itself, uttering terrifying cries. Witnessing this devastation, Indra and the other gods, together with Dakṣa the progenitor, approached with hands joined in supplication and asked, “Tell us, who are you?” Vīrabhadra replied, “I am neither god nor demon, nor have I come here to partake of the offering. Nor, O lords of the gods, have I come out of curiosity or for mere sight. I have come, O best of gods, for the destruction of Dakṣa’s sacrifice. I am known as Vīrabhadra, arisen from Rudra’s wrath. And Bhadrakālī, famed by that name, was born from the goddess’s anger. She was sent by the Lord of gods and has come to this place of sacrifice.” He warned them, “Seek refuge, O king of kings, in the Lord of gods, the husband of Umā; for even the Lord’s anger cannot be withstood, not even by his own attendants.” Everywhere, the sacrificial posts were torn up and scattered, while vultures, greedy for flesh, swooped down. The wind from their wings filled the air, mingled with the dreadful howls of Shiva’s hosts, as they harassed the king’s sacrifice. Suddenly, the sacrifice itself took the form of a deer and leapt into the sky, attempting to flee. Perceiving this, the mighty Vīrabhadra seized his bow and arrow, intent on his purpose. From the boundless wrath of this leader of hosts, a terrible drop of sweat issued forth from his forehead. As soon as that drop touched the ground, a great fire blazed up, fierce as the fire at the end of time. From that fire, O best of the twice-born, a man emerged. He was short yet immense, with blood-red eyes and a tawny beard, his appearance fearsome and wild. His hair stood on end, his body covered in thick hair, and his ears were red as blood. With a fierce, dark complexion and clothed in red, this mighty being burned the sacrifice like fire consuming dry grass. All the gods, seized by terror, fled in all directions before his force. The entire earth, with its seven continents, trembled on every side as this great being acted, frightening even the world of the gods. Then I, honoring the Great God, spoke: “O Lord, all the gods will indeed give you a share. Let there be withdrawal, O Lord of all gods, by your command; and these deities, along with thousands of sages…” I explained, “O great god, from your wrath this being was born, O best of the gods, and because of your anger, they did not attain peace; this person is sweat-born. This being is known as Fever, O knower of righteousness; he will move among the worlds. When united, his energy cannot be contained, O lord. The entire earth is capable; let this one be created in many forms.” Thus I spoke to the god, and a portion was also assigned. The blessed lord, the god of gods, wielder of the Pināka bow, replied, “So be it,” and was pleased. Dakṣa, too, in his distress, sought refuge in the god Bhava. He gathered his breath and life-force, fixing his gaze with great effort at the center of his eyes. With his vision restrained and his mind steady, the conqueror of foes addressed the Lord—many-eyed, smiling—who said, “Speak, what shall I do for you?” When the gods and ancestors heard this great story, Dakṣa, lord of creatures, with joined palms, spoke to the god, his mind fearful and anxious, his face tearful and his eyes filled with doubt: “If the blessed lord is pleased, if I am dear to you, if I am to be shown favor, if a boon is to be granted to me—whatever food has been eaten, drunk, frightened away, or destroyed, whatever has been ground to powder and cast aside—such sacrificial materials as these, which were gathered over a long time with great effort—may none of this be lost to me, by your grace, O great lord.” The blessed lord, Hara, remover of Bhaga’s eye, replied, “So be it.” Dakṣa, the lord of creatures, then praised Mahādeva, the three-eyed overseer of righteousness. Having touched the earth with his knees and received the boon from Bhava, Dakṣa praised the bull-bannered one with eight thousand names. Thus, seeing the power of Śambhu, Dakṣa, O best of the twice-born, with joined palms and bowed head, began to offer his praise: “Salutations to you, lord of gods and master of the gods; salutations to you, slayer of Andhaka. O Indra of the gods, you are supreme in strength, worshipped by gods and demons alike.