O revered sage, all that transpired arose from the nature of the Supreme Lady, the Mother of all, Prakṛti herself. You are the foremost attendant of Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Self. O king, what shame could there possibly be for me in battle with you? Give over the kingdom of the gods; what use is there in wasting words? Having spoken thus, Śaṃkara fell silent, his words hanging in the air before you, O Nārada. Then Nārāyaṇa himself took up the tale: swiftly, the king mounted his vehicle, accompanied by his ministers. But soon they were troubled, agitated by the mighty power of Skanda. In that dreadful battle, above Skanda himself, destruction descended upon the Dānavas, fierce as the dissolution of the cosmos. The king unleashed a shower of arrows, falling like a torrential rain. All the other gods fled before him, as did Nandīśvara and the rest. Even the mountains, serpents, rocks, and trees retreated. The son of Shiva, Karttikeya, was concealed by the king’s relentless arrows, just as the sun is hidden behind dense rainclouds. The king cut through Skanda’s heavy and terrifying bow. With a divine weapon, he shattered the peacock mount, leaving it in tatters. For a moment, Karttikeya fell unconscious, but soon regained his senses. Mounting a chariot adorned with the finest jewels, Agnibhū pressed forward, hurling serpents, mountains, trees, and rocks in his fury. Guha repelled the fire-missile with a missile of Varuna. With his vehicle, charioteer, and radiant jeweled crown, the king, though fallen unconscious, regained consciousness once more. The foremost of magicians then conjured a network of arrows by his illusion, and seized an unfailing spear, shining like a hundred suns. In anger, he hurled it with great force at Karttikeya, and struck by the spear, the mighty Karttikeya again fell unconscious. But Shiva, with a mere glance, revived him with ease. Shiva then quickly urged his own army and the gods into action. Indra himself fought alongside Vrishaparvan. The moon, together with Dambha, engaged in a great battle. Kubera fought with Kalakeya, and Vishvakarma with Maya. Varuṇa battled the restless Kalavingka and Samīraṇa. Jayanta fought with the essence of jewels, and the Vasus with groups of radiant powers. Dharma contended with Dhanurdhara, and Maṅgala with Maṇḍūkākṣa. Viśva fought with Palāśa, and the Ādityas displayed supreme valor in battle. Mahāmārī also fought, wielding fierce weapons alongside others. All these forces fought in the great battle, a terrifying dissolution. The armies clashed constantly, O sage. Amidst the chaos, Śaṃkhacūḍa remained, adorned with brilliant jewel ornaments, undaunted. All the gods fled, wounded and fearful, while he increased the strength of his own troops with his dazzling brilliance. Thus, the battle raged on, the fate of the gods hanging in the balance.