“I am the conqueror of death,” proclaimed the Lord, “for I have witnessed countless dissolutions of nature itself. He alone is the very form of nature, and yet is also remembered as the Purusha—the Supreme Person. Whoever unceasingly recites the names and qualities of that One attains greatness. By his will, the creator took form as Brahma, the protector as Vishnu, and thus the world came into being. He appointed Rudra as the fire of time for destruction within the domain of creation, O king. Therefore, I am fearless, for I know myself to be the conqueror of death by this supreme knowledge.” Having spoken thus, the omniscient Lord of all, the creator of beings, paused. The king, having heard these profound words, offered praise again and again. Yet Shankhachuda, steadfast and proud, respectfully said, “Still, let something true be heard—my humble submission. You have spoken of three great sins, especially the betrayal of kin. But tell me, how was Hiranyaksha, along with his brothers, harmed by the gods? Long ago, during the churning of the ocean, the nectar was consumed by the gods. Indeed, this universe is but a plaything of Krishna, the Supreme Soul. The conflict between gods and demons is both occasional and perpetual. In this endless struggle between us, your journey will be fruitless. Now, a great shame arises—a rivalry with us.” Hearing Shankhachuda’s words, the three-eyed Lord, Mahadeva, laughed gently and replied, “O king, what great shame or disgrace is there in defeat? In the beginning, there was battle between Hari and Madhu and Kaitabha. There was also battle with Hiranyaksha, and again with the wielder of the mace. All these arise from the nature of the Supreme Lady, the Mother of all, Prakriti herself. You, O king, are the foremost attendant of Krishna, the Supreme Self. What shame is there for me in battle with you? Let us not waste words—give the kingdom of the gods.” Having spoken thus, Shankara, the great Lord, fell silent, O Narada. Then, O sage, Narayana said: Shankhachuda quickly mounted his splendid vehicle, accompanied by his ministers. The hosts of demons became agitated, struck by the power of Skanda. There, in that dreadful battle, Skanda’s might brought destruction to the Danavas, as if the cosmic dissolution had come. The king’s shower of arrows fell like a torrential downpour. All the other gods fled, as did Nandishvara and his companions; even mountains, serpents, rocks, and trees withdrew from the battlefield. The son of Shiva, Guha, was concealed by the king’s relentless shower of arrows, just as the sun is hidden by a dense raincloud. Then, with a mighty stroke, Shankhachuda cut through the heavy and terrifying bow of Skanda. With a divine weapon, he shattered the peacock, Skanda’s mount, leaving it in tatters. For a moment, Skanda fell unconscious, but soon regained his senses. Mounting a chariot adorned with the finest jewels, Agnibhū went forth into battle. He hurled serpents, mountains, trees, and rocks at his foes. But Guha repelled the fire-missile with a missile of Varuna. With his vehicle, his charioteer, and his radiant, jeweled crown, the battle raged on, the outcome yet undecided.