The Daityas, having first entered the city, found themselves compelled to return once more, this time out of fear, as they were fiercely harassed by the relentless Pramathas. It became clear to them that the gods were acting with unmistakable hostility; there could be no doubt about it, especially as the illustrious ones entered the forest of the mountain. The Daityas lamented the power of Time, realizing its unconquerable nature, for even the formidable fortress they had built was now under siege. While disputes raged, like the roar of thunderous clouds, the Daityas lost their brilliance, fading like planets at the rise of the moon’s light. At that moment, the guardians of the reservoir approached Maya, standing before him with joined palms, their demeanor as ominous as clouds at the time of cosmic destruction. They declared Maya to be equal to Yama, the lord of death. The reservoir, hidden and crafted by Maya’s illusion, contained waters imbued with the essence of immortality. It was adorned with lotuses, teeming with fish, and muddied by water lilies. Yet, it had been drunk by someone who took the form of a bull, leaving the reservoir lifeless, as if it were a woman bereft of consciousness. Hearing the guardians’ words, Maya, lord of the Danavas, cried out in dismay and spoke to the sons of Diti: “If the reservoir, created by my power of illusion, has been drunk, then we are doomed. There is no doubt, O Danavas; Tripura is lost. Whether the Daityas are slain by the gods or revived, whether the reservoir is drunk or drunk by one clad in yellow garments—who else, besides Vishnu the unconquered, wielder of the mace, could drink the reservoir protected by my magic and filled with immortal waters?” He continued, “Even the most secret matters of the Daityas are not hidden on earth, where my skill in granting boons is known, though seldom sought by the wise. This place is level and beautiful, devoid of trees and mountains; but after filling it with fresh water, the hosts of winds now afflict us. If you believe you can withstand the mighty force of the Pramathas, stationed at the ocean’s boundary and as powerful as the breath of wind, know that their attacks during the flooding of the ocean will lose strength, blocked by the paths of chariots. For those who fight, slay enemies, or flee in fear, the ocean, vast like the sky, will be our refuge.” Having spoken thus, Maya, the Daitya lord, swiftly led Tripura to the ocean, kin to the rivers. Within the ocean’s deep waters, their splendid city rose up, its ancient fortifications and tower ornaments just as before. When the three cities departed, the enemy of Tripura, the three-eyed Lord Shiva, spoke to Brahmā, master of Vedic lore. “O Grandfather, the Danavas are truly terrified, O Blessed One; they have taken refuge in your vast ocean. Since the Danavas have gone with Tripura, Grandfather, quickly bring the chariot from there.” Then, with a mighty lion’s roar, the gods, delighted and armed, surrounded the divine chariot and advanced toward the western ocean. Encircling Bhava—preceptor of gods and demons—the gods moved swiftly, roaring as they approached the ocean, the abode of the Danavas. Even in the splendid city of the immortals, a dreadful tumult arose, echoing with the sounds of drums and clouds, mingled with the cries of women, resembling the agitation of the underworld. The Lord of the Worlds, leader of the gods, intent on confronting the enemy, spoke to Indra, having quickly observed the foe who had gone to Tripura: “O Lord of the hosts of gods, see this: the Danavas have entered the dwelling of Tripura. Along with Yama, Varuṇa, Kubera, Ṣaṇmukha, and their hosts, I will destroy them at once. Go, for the destruction of the enemy has been arranged; the ancient cities stand upon the ocean.” Mounted on the excellent chariot, Bhava set out again to the ocean to destroy Tripura. The sons of Diti, counting their forces, stood above the salty ocean, attacking Tripura and its lord with showers of arrows, clubs, and thunderbolts. “I too, mounted on the excellent chariot, O best of the gods, will follow behind you. For the destruction of the best of the Asuras, I will act for your happiness, O sinless one,” declared another. Thus urged by Bhava’s words, Hari—assuming the form of the son of Daśaśata, his lotus eyes wide with the desire to destroy Tripura—set out. Then Maghavan, lord of the immortals, went forth to destroy the Asuras; all the guardians of the worlds and leaders of the hosts joined him. Delighted, they rose into the sky, moving through the air and shining like winged mountains. They advanced to destroy the city, like diseases attacking a body, sounding conches, drums, and many other instruments, so that the gods were seen by the inhabitants of Tripura. Hearing, “Hara has arrived,” the mighty Asuras were seized by great agitation, as turbulent as the oceans during cataclysm. The sound of divine drums reached the Danavas, who, terrifying in appearance, roared and played many instruments in response. Those who had previously displayed their strength—both former gods and present gods—now, after wronging each other, began to destroy one another. Shouting with equal fury, a fierce and unparalleled battle erupted, bodies severed amid the clamor of weapons. They advanced like blazing suns, fires burning bright, roaring like great serpents, whirling like birds, shaking like lordly mountains, and thundering like storm clouds. They yawned like lions, thundered like rain clouds, surged with swelling waves like the ocean, and were agitated like the sea itself. The mighty Pramathas and the powerful Danavas fought steadfastly, their clash as fierce as thunderbolts striking great mountains.