In the midst of a fierce and tumultuous battle, Kujambha unleashed a storm of sharp arrows, each as deadly as a cruel serpent. So swift and skillful was his archery—the drawing, aiming, and releasing of his bow became invisible to the eye. With arrows that moved as quickly as thought, Kujambha countered the showers of missiles sent against him, cutting them down effortlessly. Then, with an exquisitely wrought, razor-sharp shaft, he struck the banner of his enemy, the foe of the immortals. Not stopping there, Kujambha took up a broad-headed arrow and brought down his opponent’s charioteer from the seat, an act that caught the attention of the king of the Rākṣasas. Witnessing Kujambha’s prowess, the Dānava king’s eyes blazed red with anger. He leapt from his chariot, seized a sword that gleamed with the clarity of an autumn sky, and took up a shield adorned with a crescent and ten golden bosses. With great force, the Daitya charged toward the lord of the Rākṣasas. As the Daitya approached, the lord of the Rākṣasas struck him in the chest with a mighty mace. The blow weakened the Daitya, confusing his mind and causing him to stand motionless, like a steadfast mountain. After a brief pause, the formidable lord of the Dānavas regained his composure. Mounting his chariot once more, the Rākṣasa seized Nirṛti by the hair with his left hand, while the Daitya pressed his knee upon him, holding him fast. Enraged, he prepared to cut off Nirṛti’s head with his sword. But in that critical moment, Varuṇa, lord of the waters, intervened—swiftly binding both arms of the lord of the Dānavas with his divine noose, rendering the Daitya’s strength useless. The noose-bearer, Varuṇa, struck the Daitya, whose arms were tied, with a merciless blow from his mace. Blood poured from the Daitya’s wounds as he vomited it forth. Then, the Daitya transformed himself into the form of a cloud, wreathed in a garland of lightning. Seeing Kujambha in this fearsome state, Mahiṣāsura, with gaping mouth and sharp, dreadful fangs, sought to swallow Nirṛti and Varuṇa, intending to drag both gods into the abyss. Perceiving Mahiṣa’s wicked intent, Nirṛti and Varuṇa, terrified by his violence, abandoned the chariot path and fled. Overwhelmed by fear, both gods escaped swiftly in different directions. Nirṛti quickly sought refuge with Indra, the lord of the gods. But Mahiṣa, the enraged Daitya, charged at Varuṇa. Varuṇa, entangled with Death and shining like a snowy mountain, was confronted by Soma, who released a weapon of cold, bristling with icy spikes, and fashioned a second, mighty wind-weapon. The wind, the moon, and the parching cold afflicted all the Dānavas, cutting down their valor and freezing their bodies. Struck by these forces, the Dānavas could neither move their feet nor take up their weapons, immobilized by the moon’s missiles. The bodies of the demon armies burned everywhere, yet the buffalo, exhausted, sat unmoving, his face unshaken by the cold. Leaning on their sides, hands pressed to the ground, faces downcast, all the Daityas, powerless to resist, were overcome by the moon’s chill. Their desire for battle abandoned, they stood at a distance, seeking only survival. At this moment, Kalanemi, inflamed with anger, addressed the Daityas: “Ho! Ho! You horned ones, skilled in weapons and missiles—each of you alone could balance the whole world with your arms. Each of you is capable of devouring the entire world, moving and unmoving; even all the gods together are not sufficient for a single one of you. With your immense prowess, each of you could fill the full sixteenth part of the moon—why have you retreated? Stand firm in battle, unconquered by the immortals! This is not fitting for heroes, especially those born as Daityas. Our king, Tāraka, destroyer of worlds, is hidden among us. If you withdraw from this battle, he will, in anger, take your lives. Numbed by the cold, you have lost your hearing and your eloquence.” Yet, the Daityas remained mute, their teeth chattering in the fight. Their minds lost, struck down by the cold, they could not respond. Understanding the urgency, the great Asura Kalanemi relied on demonic illusion and expanded his mighty form. He filled the sky, the directions, and the intermediate quarters, his body shining with the brilliance of ten thousand suns. With fierce fires conjured by illusion, Kalanemi engulfed all directions in flames. In an instant, the three worlds were ablaze. The mass of flames stripped the moon of its coolness, gradually dispelling the harsh cold day. Such was the power of the Dānava lords and the illusion of Kalanemi. Witnessing this, the sun, regaining consciousness, spoke to Aruṇa, his charioteer, his anger aroused as the single eye of the world: “O Aruṇa, quickly drive the chariot, for Kalanemi’s chariot is there. A fierce clash will occur, and heroes will fall. Here, the moon has been conquered, whose power we relied upon.” Thus, Garuḍa’s elder brother urged on the chariot. With horses held firmly by effort and adorned with white chowries, the blessed lamp of the world took up his stretched bow. He selected two splendid arrows, radiant like divine serpent venom. Employing the Saṃcāra weapon, he fitted one arrow to his bow and released it. The second arrow, infused with illusion by Indrajāla, he let fly; with the Saṃcāra weapon, he caused a momentary reversal of forms. The gods appeared as demons, and the demons as divine. Mistaking the gods for his own, Kalanemi struck them with dreadful, swift weapons. Seized by wrath like Death at the end of time, Kalanemi slew some with his sharp sword, some with showers of arrows, some with fierce maces, and others with terrible axes, spreading destruction across the battlefield.