The mighty lion, fierce and resplendent, let out a thunderous roar that shook the battlefield. Advancing as he wished, he scattered the great Daitya army before him with ease, as the wind scatters blades of grass. In response, the Daitya chiefs took to the sky, unleashing a rain of stones, hurling fragments of rocks and even entire mountain peaks down upon him. This deluge of stones crashed upon the lion’s vast head, scattering in all ten directions, resembling swarms of fireflies flickering in the night. The Daitya hosts, in their fury, poured torrents of stones upon the lion, covering him as clouds drape a mountain with their streams. Yet, for all their might, the masses of Daityas could not move that supreme god, whose force was terrible and unyielding, just as the ocean cannot budge the greatest mountain. When their rain of stones failed, the Daityas conjured a rain of water, causing streams to pour from clouds that appeared everywhere in the sky. These swift streams fell, blanketing the heavens and all directions, yet not a drop touched the god. The waters poured ceaselessly to the ground, but above the lion-like one who stood firm in battle, not a single stream fell—such was his power of illusion. With the stone-rain destroyed and the water dried up, the Daitya unleashed another illusion, this time driven by fire and wind. But mighty Indra, radiant and thousand-eyed, together with the cloud-givers, subdued the fire illusion with a tremendous downpour of water. Frustrated, the demon conjured a terrifying darkness, intense and all-encompassing, covering every direction. As the world was enveloped in this gloom and the Daityas armed themselves for battle, the god shone forth, surrounded by his own brilliance, like the sun piercing through the night. The demons beheld on his forehead a triple flame and a furrowed brow, marked with a trident, reminiscent of the triple-flowing Ganga. With all their illusions shattered, the sons of Diti grew pale with fear and fled to seek refuge with Hiranyakashipu, their mighty king. Enraged, blazing with anger and radiance, Hiranyakashipu’s fury shrouded the world in darkness. At that moment, the mighty winds—Āvaha, Pravaha, Vivaha, Udāvaha, Parāvaha, Saṃvaha—arose, powerful and agitated. Parivaha too, glorious and foreboding disaster, joined the seven Maruts as they roared through the sky. Ominous signs appeared in the heavens: all the planets that mark the end of worlds were seen moving freely across the sky. The night-wandering lord of the sky—the moon—along with the planets and stars, veered from his usual path. The blessed sun lost his color, and a great, dark, headless trunk was seen in the heavens. Agni, the fire-god, encircled the earth and released a host of flames, while the blessed one was seen again and again in the sky. Seven terrible suns, smoky and ominous, rose in the heavens, and the planets, horned and strange, stood by the moon. On the left and right stood Venus and Jupiter; Saturn and Mars, shining like fire, were also present. All these dreadful, sky-roaming planets, omens of the age’s end, slowly ascended together upon the horns. The moon, with its stars and planets, did not favor Rohini, portending destruction for all beings. Rāhu seized the moon, which was struck by blazing meteors; fiery omens swept freely across the moon’s face. Even the supreme god rained down blood, and meteors, blazing like lightning and thundering, fell from the sky. At an unnatural season, all the trees blossomed and bore fruit, and the vines were laden with produce—signs foretelling the destruction of the Daityas. From fruits, other fruits appeared; from flowers, more flowers blossomed. These opened and closed, some laughing, others weeping. Images with deep voices cried out, smoked, and blazed; the images of all the gods revealed great fear. Wild and domestic animals and birds mingled together, making dreadful sounds as the great war approached. The rivers reversed their course, carrying foul water, while the quarters of the sky vanished in a haze of red dust. The forest trees, usually revered, were neglected, struck, broken, and bent by the forceful wind. In that time, shadows of all beings remained unchanged, even as the sun moved past noon—a sign of the world’s end. Within the palace of the Daitya king Hiranyakashipu, honey appeared mysteriously in the storehouse and armory. Terrible omens, dreadful to behold, were seen everywhere, heralding the destruction of the Asuras and the victory of the gods. Many fierce portents, wrought by Time itself, arose for the downfall of the Daitya king. As the earth trembled, the mighty-souled Daitya king caused great mountains and hosts of powerful serpents to fall. These serpents, with four, five, or seven heads, their mouths blazing with poison and fire, spewed forth flames, adding to the terror of that fateful hour.