In the celestial realms, the gods beheld a wondrous sight: the divine Viṣṇu, standing in a magnificent chariot that encompassed the worlds, radiant and resplendent. Led by Indra, all the gods joined their palms in reverence, honoring the Lord. With a cry of victory, they sought refuge in him, their protector. Hearing their pleas, Viṣṇu, the god of gods, listened with compassion. Resolving within his mind to destroy the Dānavas in the great battle, Viṣṇu stood in the sky and assumed his supreme, transcendent form. With a solemn vow, he spoke to all the gods: “Go in peace, blessings to you. Do not fear, O hosts of the Maruts. All the Dānavas have been conquered by me; let the three worlds be yours.” The gods were overjoyed at Viṣṇu’s truthful words, their hearts swelling with happiness as if they had tasted the very nectar of immortality. Darkness was dispelled, clouds vanished, and auspicious winds began to blow. The ten directions became tranquil, pure lights shone forth, and the moon moved in its proper course. The planets ceased their conflicts, rivers grew calm, and all paths became clear. The three celestial classes were purified, rivers flowed as they should, and the oceans remained undisturbed. Within the hearts of men, pure senses arose. The great sages, freed from sorrow, recited the Vedas aloud, and in the sacrificial rites, the fire received the offerings and became auspicious. The worlds, established in righteousness, rejoiced, their hearts uplifted by Viṣṇu’s vow to destroy their enemies. Yet, upon hearing Viṣṇu’s words of assurance, the Daityas and Dānavas began their own preparations, determined for battle and victory. For their leader, a chariot was made of gold, three and a half yojanas long, imperishable and vast, with four mighty wheels and a splendidly constructed yoke. The chariot rang with the jingling of small bells, was adorned with tiger and leopard skins, and shone with networks of gems and golden lattices. Herds of antelopes thronged about, rows of birds graced its sides, divine quivers of arrows were set within, and the sound of thunderclouds echoed around it. Its broad, noble axle was well-placed, resembling the sky itself, and it was filled with maces and iron clubs, like the embodied ocean. Golden armlets and bracelets adorned it, with golden circular hubs, banners and flags waving like the sun with Mount Mandara. In places, it resembled the lord of elephants, shone with the radiance of a lion, was yoked to a thousand bears, and resounded like a thundering cloud. This radiant, celestial, sky-going chariot, capable of shattering enemy chariots, was mounted by its eager warrior, shining like the sun upon Mount Meru. The entire chariot, golden and vast as a mountain, with a broad and far-reaching platform, unconfined, resembled a mass of dark collyrium. It was crafted of black iron, divine, with iron-bound hubs, emitting rays like rising darkness and roaring like a raincloud. Covered with a great lattice of iron and fitted with windows, it was filled with iron clubs and throwing maces. Adorned with spears and nooses spread out, spikes not joined together, terrifying javelins and battle-axes, it rose up for the destruction of enemies like a second Mandara mountain, yoked to a thousand donkeys. The mighty warrior ascended this supreme chariot. Virocana, enraged, stood at the front of his army with mace in hand, like a mountain ablaze at its peak. The demon Hayagriva, yoked to a thousand chariots, drove his chariot forward, intent on crushing the enemy host. The boar stood at the front, drawing a great bow strung with a thousand bowstrings, resembling a mountain with its shoots. The donkey, exuding arrogance, shed tears of rage from his eyes, his teeth, lips, and eyes quivering as he eagerly awaited the battle. Tvaṣṭṛ, the mighty demon, mounted his fierce, specially crafted elephant and moved about to arrange the demon army’s formation. Śveta, son of Vipracitti, adorned with white earrings and resembling a white mountain, stood facing the battle. Ariṣṭa, son of Bali, foremost wielder of mountain slabs as weapons, stood ready, shaking the earth and mountains. Kiśora, out of great excitement, was called by that name as the Dānavas, with their forces, prepared themselves in order. In the midst of the Daitya army, Lamba appeared like the rising sun, resembling a new cloud, adorned in garments of dark hue. Entering the Daitya formation, Svarbhānu shone like the sun in mist, ready for battle, with weapons held in his mouth, teeth, lips, and eyes. That great planet, standing before the Daityas, laughed; others mounted horses, while some rode elephants. Still others rode lions and tigers, some on boars and bears, some on donkeys and camels, and others had wild beasts as their vehicles. Other Daityas were infantry, terrifying with distorted faces; some had one leg, some half a leg, and they danced, eager for battle. Many struck their palms, others snorted, and the leading Dānavas roared with the fierce sound of excited tigers. Armed with fierce maces and iron clubs, wielding stones and pestles, they threatened the gods with their arms shaped like clubs. They played with nooses, spears, clubs, javelins, hooks, axes, hundred-killers, and multi-bladed hammers, ready to unleash their fury upon the celestial hosts. Thus, the gods and demons stood poised, each side prepared and resolute, the stage set for a mighty battle that would shake the very foundations of the worlds.