Filled with overwhelming arrogance, wrath, and pride, the mighty demon Tāraka revealed his fierce intentions openly for all to see. His valor shone through his very demeanor as he mounted his victorious chariot, ready for war. With a thousand warriors, each bearing banners adorned with Garuda, Tāraka, burning with rage, drove onto the battlefield to confront the assembled gods. He was fully armed, equipped with every weapon and protected by all manner of missiles. The wealth of the three worlds seemed to be his, and his vast mouth was wide open as he charged ahead, surrounded by a formidable army. Though his body bore wounds from Jambha’s weapon, he pressed on, abandoning even his great elephant Airavata in his fury. On the other side, Indra’s chariot stood ready, guarded by the wise Matali. The chariot gleamed with golden light and was encrusted with magnificent jewels. It was immense—four yojanas wide—adorned with groups of siddhas, and its approach was celebrated in song by Gandharvas and Kinnaras. The chariot was crowded with dancing apsaras and noble men, filled with all manner of weapons, spacious and brilliantly crafted, and completely encircled by the king of gods’ retinue. The guardians of the worlds stood firm, their banners too bearing Garuda. Then, as the armies gathered, the earth itself trembled, and a harsh wind swept over the field. The oceans surged, the sun’s light vanished, and darkness fell so deep that even the stars could not be seen. Weapons began to blaze, and the armies quaked in anticipation. On one side stood Tāraka, lord of the demons; on the other, the host of gods. The fate of the worlds hung in the balance: decline threatened from one side, while preservation was defended on the other. All beings—whether moving or still—aligned themselves with either the gods or the demons. Yet, in that moment, even this duality seemed to dissolve. It was as if all existence, the very essence of the three worlds, was present there, manifesting in its totality. All powers—arms, energies, treasures, courage, the strength of armies, valor, and every vital force—were drawn forth, belonging to gods and demons alike, each empowered by their own austerities. As Tāraka advanced, the gods struck him in the heart with nine arrows, their blazing tips bent at the joints like fire. Unshaken, the lord of the Daityas responded in kind, sending nine arrows into the heart of each god—using the very arrows that had pierced him. The gods unleashed an unbroken shower of arrows, led by darts born of the world’s support, but Tāraka destroyed those missiles in midair before they could touch him, as easily as a wicked son destroys the noble lineage into which he is born. Blocking the gods’ barrage, Tāraka filled the sky, the directions, and the earth itself with his own arrows. His volleys were swift and sharp, fletched with vulture and peacock feathers, cutting down the gods’ arrows at their very base and in flight. Drawing his bow to the ear, he loosed pure arrows shining with gold and silver, striking with the precision of a master resolving the meaning of sacred treatises. Tāraka’s assault was relentless: he struck Śakra with a hundred arrows, Nārāyaṇa with seventy, and Agni with ninety. Māruta was hit on the head with ten arrows, as were Yama and Kubera, while Varuṇa received eight. Nirṛti was struck with twenty arrows, then again with eight, and once more each was struck with ten more arrows. Mātali received three swift arrows, and Garuḍa was pierced by ten feathered shafts. With arrows bent at the joints, Tāraka shattered the gods’ armor and cut their bows to pieces, leaving them vulnerable and unarmed. Yet, undaunted, the guardians of the worlds seized new bows and surrounded Tāraka, wounding him with inexhaustible arrows, even as his eyes blazed red with fury. In turn, Tāraka rained down arrows like fire upon the immortals. He seized an arrow that blazed like the fire of destruction and struck mighty Indra in the chest, so that the king of gods trembled on his chariot seat. Glancing at the thousand-sunned orb in the sky, Tāraka struck Vishnu with two arrows at the base of the shoulder, and Keśava’s own arrow fell before the Śārṅga bow. Remembering the lowly nature of Vasu, Tāraka pierced him on the left with arrows. With shafts like fire, the unconquerable demon king dried up the body of Jaleśa in the heat of battle. With fire-like arrows, he attacked so fiercely that the terrified rākṣasas fled in all directions, while the asura lord, with harsh, twisted arrows, stirred up a violent wind. Then Hari bent his bow and struck the demon king’s charioteer in the heart with sharp arrows. Dhūmaketu struck Tāraka’s banner, Mahendra shattered his crown, Dhanesha broke his golden bow, Yama wounded his arm, Vayu damaged the chariot’s parts, and even the armor of the lord of night-walkers was struck. Witnessing the gods’ genuine valor in battle, Tāraka fought on with his own arms and the support of his kin. He hurled a mighty mace at Indra, the thousand-eyed one. Seeing the irresistible weapon descending from the sky, Indra leapt from his chariot to the ground just in time, and the mace crashed onto the chariot’s seat with a harsh sound, crushing it, though Matali survived. Not stopping, Tāraka seized a spear and struck Keśava in the chest, causing him to collapse unconscious upon Garuḍa’s shoulder. With a sword, he cut down the vehicle of the king of rākṣasas. The demon struck Yama down with a club and struck Agni on the head with a sling. He lifted Vayu with his arms and hurled him to the earth, and in anger, struck Dhanesha with the tip of his bow. Thus, in the thick of battle, the demon king, boundless in valor, slew the hosts of gods with countless weapons, his power and fury unmatched in that dreadful war.