As time passed, King Dhruvasandhi, ever fond of the hunt, set out into the forest to indulge his passion. There, amidst the wild thickets, the king delighted in the chase, felling deer, antelopes, boars, wild oxen, hares, buffaloes, the fierce sarabhas, and even rhinoceroses. The forest echoed with the sounds of his sport, but it was a place both dreadful and terrifying. While the king was thus engaged, a furious lion, roused from the depths of a thicket, burst forth. The king's arrow struck the beast first, but instead of retreating, the lion’s rage only grew. Seeing the king before him, the lion roared, its voice thundering through the forest. With its tail raised and its great mane bristling, the lion leapt down from above, intent on slaying the king. Dhruvasandhi, seeing this terrible charge, quickly seized his sword and raised his shield, standing his ground with the courage of a lion himself. His attendants, filled with anger and loyalty, let loose a volley of arrows at the raging beast, each hoping to bring it down. A great outcry arose as a fierce battle erupted between man and beast. In the chaos, the dreadful lion leapt directly upon the king. As the lion fell upon him, Dhruvasandhi struck with his sword, but the lion, coming close, tore into him with its cruel claws. Wounded grievously, the king fell and died on the spot. The soldiers, stricken with grief and rage, unleashed a storm of arrows and finally slew the lion. Thus, both the king and the lion lay dead in the forest. The chief ministers and soldiers, having witnessed these events, quickly returned and reported all that had happened. Upon hearing that the king had departed this world, the chief ministers journeyed into the forest to perform his funeral rites. The venerable sage Vasiṣṭha oversaw all the ceremonies for the king’s afterlife, following the prescribed rules, so that the departed soul might find happiness in the next world. In the wake of the king’s death, the people, the ministers, and the great sage Vasiṣṭha gathered together to consult about the kingdom’s future. They agreed that Sudarśana, the son of the lawful queen, was peaceful, virtuous, and possessed of good qualities—worthy, indeed, of the royal throne. The foremost ministers declared this, and Vasiṣṭha affirmed their words, saying, “Though young, the king’s son is righteous and deserves the royal seat.” As the senior ministers made their decision, news of these events spread. King Yudhājit, lord of Ujjayinī, upon hearing of Dhruvasandhi’s death, hastened there, driven by his concern for his daughter Līlāvatī and her son. Vīrasena, too, came swiftly, wishing for the welfare of his daughter Manoramā’s son, Sudarśana. The king of Kaliṅga, Manoramā’s father, also arrived, each king accompanied by his army, anxious and eager to secure the kingdom for his own line. Gathering with the chief ministers, the two kings—Yudhājit and Vīrasena—began to consult about the succession. Yudhājit asked, “Which of the two sons is the elder? The elder alone obtains the kingdom; never the younger.” Vīrasena replied, “The son of the lawful wife is indeed worthy of the kingdom, as the learned in the scriptures have taught.” But Yudhājit insisted, “This one is the elder and, by his qualities, possesses the marks of royalty in a way Sudarśana does not.” The argument grew sharp between the two kings, each greedy for the throne. Suspicion and accusation filled the air as Yudhājit accused the ministers of self-interest, claiming they favored Sudarśana only to enjoy the kingdom’s wealth. He declared, “I have seen your intentions. Therefore, I approve Śatrujit, who has an army, for the royal seat. While I live, who would make the younger son king, abandoning the elder, who is worthy by his qualities and supported by the army? Surely I will wage war here; the earth itself will be split by the power of my sword.” Vīrasena responded, “Both are young and equal in intelligence. What difference is there, O wise one?” The dispute between the two kings only deepened, causing anxiety among the people and the sages. The vassal rulers, each with their armies, gathered, intent on hardship and vigilant against one another, as each desired the throne. Hearing of the king’s death, the Nishadas of Śṛṅgaverapura also arrived, intent on seizing the royal wealth. Thieves from various regions gathered as well, drawn by the news that the king’s sons were mere children and that discord reigned. Strife and tumult spread through the land, while Yudhājit and Vīrasena, both eager for battle, stood as bitter rivals. Amidst this turmoil, a journey began toward the serene Bhāradvāja hermitage. Meanwhile, King Yudhājit, broad-armed and resolute, stood firm on the battlefield, his bow in hand, surrounded by his own forces, vehicles, and attendants, ready for combat. Vīrasena, too, stood in battle, his army at his side, determined to fulfill his warrior’s duty and protect his daughter’s son, his radiance likened to that of the lord of the gods. Filled with wrath and true valor, Vīrasena unleashed a shower of arrows upon Yudhājit, who stood unmoved, like a mountain struck by torrents of rain. With swift, straight, and sharp arrows, Vīrasena enveloped his opponent, cutting down the arrows released by Yudhājit, which fell to the earth with great speed. A tremendous battle broke out among elephants, chariots, and horses, witnessed by assemblies of gods, men, and sages. The sky itself became filled with flocks of birds—vultures and others—drawn by their desire to feast upon the flesh of those who would fall in this mighty conflict.