Hearing the words spoken to him, though anger stirred within, Viṣṇu outwardly maintained composure. He greeted Brahmā with a gentle, “Peace to you, welcome, child. Sit down, take this seat.” Yet Brahmā, perceiving tension, questioned him: “Why does your face appear fierce, your gaze uneven, like a tiger’s, O Viṣṇu? Great pride has come upon you, driven by time.” Brahmā continued, “O child, the Grandfather is the lord of the world, and you are its protector. This world abides in me, yet you act like a thief among men. Born from the lotus of my navel, you are my son, yet you speak in vain.” As these two, deluded yet undefeated, exchanged words, each asserted supremacy: “I alone am supreme, not you; I am the lord, not you.” Consumed by rivalry, they prepared to battle each other. The immortal heroes mounted their celestial vehicles—Brahmā upon the swan, Viṣṇu upon Garuḍa—and engaged in combat. Their followers, too, clashed fiercely. The gods, eager to witness this extraordinary duel, gathered in their aerial chariots, showering flowers and watching the spectacle unfold in the sky. Viṣṇu, riding Garuḍa, grew angry at Brahmā and attacked his chest. Brahmā, enraged, unleashed countless arrows and formidable weapons upon Viṣṇu. Both warriors discharged blazing missiles, their battle astonishing to behold. The hosts of gods, distressed by the fury, spoke anxiously among themselves. Viṣṇu, deeply angered and breathing heavily, prepared the mighty Maheśvara missile against Brahmā. Brahmā, in turn, shook the entire universe with his wrath and set the dreadful Pāśupata weapon upon Viṣṇu’s chest. That missile rose, shining in the sky like ten thousand suns, with a thousand terrible mouths, fierce and fearsome as a violent wind, terrifying even Brahmā and Viṣṇu. The battle between Brahmā and Viṣṇu became mutually destructive, alarming all the gods, who murmured among themselves, “O sages, this is like the turmoil of kings.” They reflected: “From whom creation, preservation, dissolution, concealment, and grace proceed—to that Brahmā and the wielder of the trident—without their favor, not even the destruction of a blade of grass is possible here by anyone else, even by chance.” Fearful, the gods sought out Śiva’s abode. They ascended to the peak of Kailāsa, where the moon-crested Lord resides. There, delighted, they entered the supreme mansion of the Lord, bowing in the form of the sacred syllable Om. In the center of the assembly, upon a jeweled seat within the pavilion, they beheld the illustrious Lord of gods, shining with Umā by his side. Śiva sat with one foot over the other, his hands in a posture befitting worship, surrounded by his attendants and marked by every auspicious sign. Devoted women fanned him with lotus-leaf fans, he was continually praised by the Vedas, and he graciously blessed all as the Lord. Seeing him thus, the immortals, their eyes filled with tears of satisfaction, prostrated themselves from afar, and the great hosts offered their salutations. Observing the gods, Śiva summoned them near with his attendants. Delighting them, the crest-jewel of gods spoke words deep in meaning and sweet in blessing: “Children, is all well with you? Does the world and the lineage of gods abide by my command? Is each engaged in their proper duty or not? I was already aware of the battle between Brahmā and Viṣṇu, O gods; your repeated anxious words have made it clear.” With a gentle smile, Śiva’s sweet words pleased Umā, and then he proceeded to the assembly of the gods. To address the conflict, the Lord commanded a hundred leaders of the hosts right there in the assembly to prepare for departure. Many kinds of instruments sounded for the Supreme Lord’s journey, and the chiefs of the hosts, adorned with various vehicles and ornaments, readied themselves. Śiva, husband of Bhadrāmbikā, mounted a chariot adorned with five circles, having the form of the sacred syllable Om from beginning to end. All the gods, with their sons and hosts—including Indra—followed him. Honored by the supreme goddess, Paśupati, together with her, went to the field of battle with his army. Observing the ongoing battle, Śiva concealed himself in the clouds; the tumult of instruments ceased, and the loud sounds of the hosts became quiet. Brahmā and Acyuta, both heroes, desiring to slay each other, employed the Maheśvara missile and the Pāśupata weapon. The flames of these weapons burned the three worlds of Brahmā and Viṣṇu. Seeing this, Śiva perceived a terrible, untimely dissolution. In the midst of the chaos, Śiva manifested as an immense, pillar-like, terrifying form of fire, without parts. The blazing weapons, capable of destroying the worlds, fell away in a moment, subdued by the great fire’s appearance. Witnessing this wondrous, marvelous, auspicious phenomenon that calmed the weapons, Brahmā and Viṣṇu exclaimed to each other, “What is this, of such a wondrous form? This pillar, beyond the senses, of fiery form—what has arisen? Its top and bottom are not seen by either of us.” Resolving to investigate, the two heroes, proud of their valor, joined together and quickly set out to examine the mysterious pillar. “For us two, joined here, one task is not possible,” they agreed. Viṣṇu then took the form of a boar and went to seek its base.