As the tumult of battle surged, a host of wondrous beings gathered at the field—Gandharvas, Rakshasas, Yakshas, Kinnaras, and mighty serpents, each bearing dazzling weapons and adorned in golden ornaments. Countless groups, each marked by their distinctive signs and led by bands of bards, joyfully paraded their own glory, celebrating the destruction of the demons. Indra himself, flanked by the divine hosts, joined in their delight. Indra’s army, protected by the immortal hosts, advanced with banners flying, the thunderous roar of hundreds of elephants and horses filling the air. Lofty white flag-cloths fluttered above them, striking fear into the hearts of the sons of Diti. But as the gods pressed forward, a terrifying sight appeared—the elephant-demon, massive and dark, looming like a cluster of storm clouds. Armed with a battle-axe, the demon’s lips curled in rage as he crushed the gods in battle, hurling others aside with his powerful hand. Fierce in valor, the demon king struck down his foes with the axe, decimating the divine army. In response, the Yakshas, Gandharvas, and Kinnaras unleashed a storm of wondrous weapons and missiles: nooses, axes, discs, spears, and maces. Javelins, lances, sharp swords, and formidable maces all rained down upon the demon, but he devoured them as easily as a herd-leader swallows morsels. With his long, furious trunk, the elephant-demon struck and felled his opponents, roaming dreadfully among the gods. Wherever he attacked, cries of lament echoed from the gods. Seeing their comrades fleeing in all directions, the Rudras, their pride ignited, spoke among themselves, “Ho, ho! Seize the demon king! Crush him, whose refuge is destroyed! Drag him with sharp spears, break him at his vital points!” Kapali, one of the Rudras, his eyes wide with wrath, grasped his sharp-tipped spear in his left hand and wiped it clean. With a furrowed brow, he rushed toward the demon king, gripping his spotless spear tightly. Kapali struck the elephant-demon in the flank, and all ten Rudras joined the fray, attacking with flawless iron weapons. They pierced the demon lord, massive as a mountain, with spears; blood flowed from his wounds, tormented by the sharp spear-points. The demon, dark-hued, shone like a spotless autumn lake surrounded by blooming red and blue lotuses. His body, pale as ashes, was encircled by the Rudras like swans, as he approached afflicted, his ear-flaps quivering. In fury, the elephant-demon pierced Śambhu in the navel with his ten tusks. Seeing him caught between two Rudras, the nine others performed a wondrous act, striking the foe of the immortals with various weapons, fearless and strong, standing firm on the battlefield. Like jackals gathering around a dead buffalo in the forest, the demon king abandoned Kapali and departed. Angered, he rushed at the nine Rudras, trampling them with his feet, tusks, and trunk. When he was exhausted from their fierce battle, Kapali seized the hand of the enemy of the immortals, whirled him violently, and seeing the demon weary and barely alive, his life flickering, Kapali tore off his hide, making it a terrifying garment. Streams of blood flowed from every limb as Kapali fashioned a cloak for himself from the elephant-demon’s hide. Seeing the demon slain and Kapali draped in this fearsome cloak, the mighty leaders of the demons were terrified. They fled, departed, and fell by the thousands, awed by Kapali’s dreadful form. The demons beheld the fierce Rudra on earth and in all directions, and as the mighty demon king was laid low, he appeared formidable even to the powerful, like a storm-cloud at the end of an age, his drum destroyed. Swiftly, he charged, shaking the armies of the gods. Wherever the elephant of Nimi went, the gods abandoned their vehicles and fled, terrified and forsaking their purpose, while even the celestial elephants fled from his scent. As the armies of the gods scattered, Indra stood firm with the eight guardians of the directions and with Keśava at his side. As Nimi’s elephant approached Indra’s own, Indra’s elephant moved forward, letting out a terrible roar. Yet, though restrained with effort, Indra’s elephant did not stand firm in battle. When his elephant fled, Pākaśāsana mounted it, and, facing the wrong way, fought against the army of the lord of the Daityas. Then Śatakratu struck Nimi on the chest with his thunderbolt. With his mace, Indra struck the elephant hard on the cheek, but Nimi, fearless and courageous, was undeterred. He struck Airāvata, Indra’s elephant, on the hip with his club, and Airāvata fell in the battle. That mountain-like elephant touched the earth behind him with his feet, but swiftly rose again, agile and great, only to withdraw from the battle, terrified by Nimi’s elephant. A harsh wind blew, full of dust and gravel, as Nimi’s elephant faced his foe, shaking the swift-moving mountains. Blood streamed from his body, and he shone like a mountain with a lake of molten ore, terrible and magnificent in the midst of battle.