Surrounded on all sides, the mighty Daityas and Danavas prepared for battle with terrifying vigor. They brandished an array of dreadful weapons: spears and nooses, swords and maces, pestles and thunderbolts, whips, blazing logs, and even uprooted trees. Their hands gripped mallets, sling-stones, enormous boulders, mortars, and even mountain peaks, while blazing shataghnis and dreadful clubs glimmered in their grasp. Like the swift strike of Indra’s thunderbolt, these fierce beings, clutching their nooses, stood poised with arms raised high, their formations twisting and coiling like the triple-headed naga-nooses. Their bodies shone with golden garlands and radiant yellow garments, and pearl necklaces adorned their waists. They gleamed resplendently, as if they were swans spreading broad, shimmering wings. Among them, those of wind-like speed and energy glittered with splendid armlets, crowns, and bracelets; their heads, radiant all around, rivaled the brilliance of the rising sun’s rays. Yet, their forms were strange and fearsome. Some bore the faces of donkeys, others of crocodiles and venomous serpents. Some appeared with the visages of antelopes, while others had the snout of a wild boar. There were those whose faces glowed like the rising sun, some that resembled blazing comets, and some whose features were half-moon, half-formed, or blazing like fire itself. Others had the faces of swans and cocks, their gaping mouths terrifying to behold; some bore lion faces, licking their lips, and still others had the countenances of crows and vultures. Among them were those with two tongues, crooked heads, and meteor-like faces; mighty Danavas appeared with the jaws of great sharks, exuding pride and strength. Despite their mountain-like bodies and the torrents of arrows they unleashed, the lion—unconquerable king of beasts—stood undisturbed in battle. Again and again, the lords of the Danavas, breathing fury like serpents, unleashed new and terrible weapons upon the lion. Yet, every dreadful arrow, loosed by the king of the Danavas, vanished in the sky like fireflies lost upon a mountain. Enraged, the Daityas hurled blazing, divine discs in all directions at the lion. These discs, flying everywhere, lit up the heavens as though, at the end of an age, the sky was ablaze with radiant planets like the moon and sun. But the great-souled lion devoured every one of these flaming weapons, swallowing them as they entered his mouth and shone there like solar and lunar eclipses hidden in the caverns of storm clouds. Then Hiranyakashipu, the mighty Daitya, released a formidable spear, blazing and terrifying, flashing with the brilliance of lightning upon polished steel. Seeing it streak toward him, the lion roared fiercely and shattered the weapon in an instant. The broken spear, cast down by the lion, sparkled and blazed upon the earth like a great meteor fallen from the sky. A stream of arrows, gleaming nearby, appeared like a garland of radiant blue lotuses and palāśa leaves. The lion roared as was fitting, advanced as he pleased, and scattered the Daitya army as the wind scatters blades of grass. In response, the Daitya chiefs soared through the sky, unleashing a rain of rocks, fragments, and even mighty mountain peaks. The storm of stones pelted the lion’s great head, scattering in all directions like swarms of fireflies. The hosts of Daityas covered the lion with torrents of stones, as clouds cover a mountain with streams of rain. Yet, for all their might and numbers, the Daityas could not move that best of gods, whose force was terrible—just as the ocean cannot shift the greatest mountain. When their rain of stones was thwarted, they conjured a rain of water, streams pouring from clouds in every direction. These torrents, falling with sharp speed, covered the heavens and every corner of the earth, yet not a single drop touched the god-lion, though the waters fell ceaselessly to the ground. Rain poured outside, but above the one who stood in battle—resembling a lion by divine illusion—there was nothing but clear air. When the stone-rain was destroyed and the rain of water dried up, the demon conjured an illusion driven by fire and wind. But mighty Indra, radiant and thousand-eyed, together with the cloud-givers, subdued the fire with a great downpour, quenching its fury. Frustrated, the demon then unleashed a terrifying, intense darkness in all directions. The world was shrouded in gloom, but the lion, surrounded by his own brilliance, shone like the sun amid the night. The demons, armed and ready for battle, beheld upon his forehead a triple flame and a furrowed brow, marked with a trident, like the triple-flowing Ganga. With all their illusions destroyed, the sons of Diti, pale and fearful, sought refuge with the demon king Hiranyakashipu. Now blazing with anger, burning as if his own radiance had set him aflame, the enraged lord of demons plunged the world into darkness. At that moment, the mighty winds—Āvaha, Pravaha, Vivaha, Udāvaha, Parāvaha, and Saṃvaha—arose, each powerful and fearsome. Parivaha too, glorious and foreboding disaster, joined them, and the seven Maruts, agitated, swept through the sky. All the planets that appear at the destruction of worlds were seen in the heavens, moving as they pleased, and the night-wandering lord of the sky—the moon—together with the planets and stars, traveled along his path at night, no longer following his usual course.