Leaning heavily on their sides, their faces downcast and hands pressed to the earth, the mighty Daityas sat powerless, overcome by the chill radiance of the moon. Their strength sapped, they abandoned all thought of battle, standing at a distance, intent only on survival. It was then that Kalanemi, burning with anger, addressed his fellow Daityas. “Ho! Ho! You horned ones, masters of weapons and missiles! Each of you alone could balance the whole world upon your arms. Each of you is capable of devouring the entire universe, both moving and unmoving. Even if all the gods joined together, they could not match the might of a single one of you. With your immense power, each of you could fill a sixteenth part of the moon itself—so why do you retreat? Stand firm in battle, unconquered by the immortals! This is not fitting for heroes, especially for those born as Daityas. Our king, Tāraka, the destroyer of worlds, is among us, hidden in our midst. If you withdraw from this fight, he will, in his wrath, destroy you. Numbed by the cold, you have lost your hearing and your eloquence.” Yet the Daityas remained mute, their teeth chattering as they faced the frigid onslaught. Their minds were scattered, stricken by the cold, and Kalanemi saw them thus, lost and helpless. Realizing that decisive action was needed, the great Asura Kalanemi invoked his demonic powers of illusion and expanded his form to a colossal size. He filled the sky, the directions, and every quarter. His body shone with the brilliance of ten thousand suns, and with fierce, illusory fires he filled every direction. In an instant, all three worlds were engulfed in flames. The moon, overwhelmed by this mass of fire, lost its coolness, and gradually the harsh cold of the day was dispelled. Such was the power of the Dānava lords, the illusion conjured by Kalanemi. Witnessing this, the sun, regaining his awareness, spoke to Aruṇa, his charioteer, his anger rising, his single eye blazing upon the world. “O Aruṇa, quickly drive the chariot! Kalanemi’s chariot is before us. A fierce clash is about to occur, and heroes will fall.” The sun lamented, “Here, the moon has been conquered, whose power we relied upon.” Thus urged, Aruṇa, elder brother of Garuḍa, pressed on with the chariot. With great effort, the horses were held steady, adorned with white chowries, and the blessed lamp of the world, the sun himself, took up his stretched bow. He selected two radiant arrows, shining like the venom of divine serpents, and, invoking the Saṃcāra weapon, fitted one to his bow and let it fly. The second arrow, infused with the illusion of Indrajāla, he released as well. 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. With fierce speed, he cut off the heads of some, severed arms, chariots, and charioteers. Some he crushed beneath the force of his chariot, and others he struck down in rage with violent blows of his fist. But soon, seeing their own slain in battle, Nemi, lord of the demons, and the asuras, overwhelmed by the gods, resumed their true forms. Kalanemi, blinded by anger, failed to recognize them. Then Nemi, perceiving the truth, called out to him, “I am Nemi, not a god, Kalanemi; know me. Many mighty ones have been slain by you in battle, deceived by illusion. Here are one hundred thousand demons, unconquerable by the gods. Unleash the Brahma weapon swiftly, to counter all their weapons.” Thus instructed, and his mind agitated with confusion, Kalanemi fitted an arrow empowered by the Brahma weapon. The lord of the demons, a thorn to the gods, released it. By the force of this weapon, the three worlds, with all their beings, moving and unmoving, were enveloped. The entire army of the gods was seized with fear. The Saṃcāra weapon was subdued, and in the midst of battle, the Brahma weapon shone forth. When that mighty weapon was repelled, the sun lost his brilliance. Relying on the illusion of Mahendra, he manifested countless forms of himself. With thunderous blows of his hands, he overwhelmed the three worlds, scorching the demon host, whose blood flowed in torrents. Then he rained fire everywhere, intensely, and blinded the eyes of the demon chiefs. The fat of elephants melted, their cries falling to the earth; horses, scorched by the heat, gasped for breath, and even the charioteers suffered. Here and there, tormented by thirst, they sought water and shade beneath the trees, or the shelter of mountain caves. As they begged for coolness, wildfires broke out among the trees, blazing fiercely and burning the trunks. Seeing water ahead, surging with waves, those desperate for relief pressed forward. Yet though the water lay before them, the powerless could not reach it. Parched, their mouths agape, their minds departed, and they lay upon the earth. Scattered across the ground were the bodies of dead demon lords, fallen chariots, elephants, and horses, all brought to their end. Standing or running, vomiting, with garments and blood streaming, thousands of dead Dānavas were seen. As the great destruction of the demon kings unfolded, Kalanemi, his eyes reddened with wrath and his anger inflamed, arose. He became like a storm-cloud, flashing with countless lightning-lakes, his deep, thunderous roar shaking the hearts of the world. Spreading across the sky, he dispelled the illusion of the sun and poured cold water upon the army of the demon kings, bringing relief after the fiery devastation.