In the aftermath of a fierce encounter between the lion and the king, both fell—meeting their end together. The chief ministers and soldiers, upon arriving at the scene, reported this tragic news. Hearing of the king’s passing to the next world, the chief ministers journeyed into the forest and performed his funeral rites with due solemnity. The sage Vasiṣṭha, revered and wise, carried out all the prescribed rites for the king’s afterlife, ensuring blessings and happiness for him in the next world. After these rites, the people, the ministers, and Vasiṣṭha gathered together to deliberate on the succession. Their discussion turned toward Sudarśana, the son of the lawful wife, whom they recognized as peaceful, virtuous, and possessing noble qualities—truly worthy of the royal throne, as the foremost ministers declared. Vasiṣṭha echoed their sentiments, affirming that Sudarśana, though young, was righteous and fit for kingship. As the ministers reached their decision, news of these events spread swiftly. King Yudhājit, lord of Ujjayinī, heard of the succession and hastened to the scene. Likewise, the father of Līlāvatī, upon learning of his son-in-law’s death, arrived quickly, seeking the welfare of his grandson. Vīrasena, intent on Sudarśana’s good, came as well, and the king of Kaliṅga, father of Manoramā, joined them. These kings, accompanied by their armies and filled with anxiety, consulted with the chief ministers regarding the future of the kingdom. Yudhājit posed a decisive question: “Which of the two sons is the elder? The elder alone inherits the kingdom; never the younger.” Vīrasena replied, “The son of the lawful wife is indeed worthy of the throne, as learned men have taught, O King.” Yudhājit insisted, “This one is the elder and, by his qualities, bears the marks of royalty; Sudarśana does not possess them in the same way.” A sharp dispute erupted between the two kings, each greedy for power, and the situation grew fraught with uncertainty. Yudhājit accused the ministers of acting out of self-interest, claiming they wished to make Sudarśana king to enjoy the wealth. He declared, “I see your intentions in your gestures; therefore, I approve Śatrujit, who has an army, for the royal seat. While I am alive, who would make the younger son king, abandoning the elder, who is worthy and supported by the army? Surely, I will wage war—the earth will be split in two by the sword’s power; what need is there to speak of you?” Vīrasena responded, “Both sons are young and equal in intelligence; what difference is there here, O wise one?” As their argument intensified, the people and sages grew anxious. The vassals, with their armies, gathered together, each eager for conflict and remaining vigilant against one another. The Nishadas, dwellers of Śṛṅgaverapura, heard of the king’s death and, intent on seizing royal wealth, arrived at the scene. Thieves from various regions, learning that the king’s sons were mere children and that discord prevailed, also gathered there. Strife broke out, and a tumultuous rivalry arose between Yudhājit and Vīrasena, both eager for battle. Amidst this turmoil, the parties began their journey toward the delightful Bhāradvāja hermitage. On the battlefield, King Yudhājit, broad-armed and resolute, stood firm with his bow, surrounded by his forces, vehicles, and attendants, ready for combat. Vīrasena, likewise, stood amidst his army, determined to uphold the warrior’s duty and safeguard his daughter’s son, his radiance likened to the lord of the gods. Filled with wrath and true valor, Vīrasena unleashed a shower of arrows upon Yudhājit, who stood steadfast, like a mountain battered by torrents of rain. Vīrasena enveloped Yudhājit with swift, sharp arrows, cutting down those released by his foe, which fell with great speed. A tremendous battle erupted among elephants, chariots, and horses, witnessed by assemblies of gods, men, and sages. The sky was suddenly filled with flocks of birds—vultures and others—drawn by the desire for flesh. A dreadful river of blood flowed, carried by groups of heroic elephants and horses, terrifying the wicked who beheld it, as if it were the sun’s path desired by them. Severed heads of men, their hair covering them, were scattered along the broken banks, shining like gourds floating in the river, as if children had placed them there in play, illuminated by the sun’s rays. A fallen hero, lying on earth from his chariot, was circled above by a vulture seeking flesh; even the soul, seeing its beloved body, longed intensely, though helpless, to re-enter it. Even in death, a noble king, seated in a splendid celestial chariot, addressed his beloved goddess on his lap: “Behold now my body, struck by arrows and fallen to earth, O fair-armed beloved.” Another, slain by his enemy, ascended alone to the sky, joined by a celestial maiden in a chariot; after offering his body to the fire, his beloved, accompanied by attendants, took hold of him. Two valiant warriors, slain together by each other’s weapons, departed jointly to heaven, where they fiercely fought again with powerful weapons—until an apsaras intervened, agitated by their quarrel. A certain youth, having attained a celestial maiden of surpassing beauty and virtue, praised his own qualities before her, and, united in yoga, engaged lovingly with her. The dust of the earth spread far and wide, and night enveloped the sun in the sky. Suddenly, that dust became a sea of blood, and the sun appeared with extraordinary brilliance. Someone, having gone to the sky, encountered a divine maiden whose face was lovely and heart devoted. Fearing the loss of his vows, he did not embrace her, thinking, “Her favorable words will go in vain for me.” When battle was joined, King Yudhājit struck down Vīrasena with fierce and terrible arrows, bringing a tragic end to the conflict and marking a decisive moment in the struggle for the kingdom.