He, accompanied by the goddess, approached Maheshvara and spoke with devotion: “Command me, O Great God—what task shall I perform?” Then Shiva, the destroyer of the three cities, his voice deep and resonant, addressed Virabhadra, the mighty-armed one, moved by love for Parvati. “Go at once,” he instructed, “and destroy the sacrifice of Daksha, son of Prachetas, together with Bhadrakali. This is your task, O Lord of the Ganas. I, too, along with Parvati, shall remain at Raibhya’s hermitage and witness, O Lord of the Ganas, your formidable valor.” He described the trees at Kanakhala, near the gateway of the sacred Ganga, which stood tall and golden like Mount Meru and Mandara. “In that region,” Shiva said, “Daksha’s sacrifice is now taking place. Waste no time—go and disrupt that sacrifice immediately.” When Shiva finished speaking, Parvati, the gentle daughter of the Himalayas, gazed upon Bhadra with deep affection, as a cow looks fondly at her calf. She embraced him, inhaled the scent of his head, and smiled, her words sweet and gentle: “Dear Bhadra, greatly fortunate and mighty in valor, you were born for my sake, to dispel my anger. Daksha, absorbed in his sacrificial rites, did not invite the Lord of Sacrifice; therefore, out of enmity, O Lord of the Ganas, destroy his sacrifice. By my command, O Bhadra, turn the fortune of the sacrifice to misfortune, and, beloved one, slay the sacrificer together with Bhadra.” Receiving these commands from both Shiva and Parvati—whose deeds are wondrous—Bhadra bowed his head in reverence and prepared to depart. Then, Virabhadra, the blessed Lord—enraged, mighty, and dwelling among the spirits, the remover of the goddess’s wrath—manifested in his full glory. From the pores of his skin, he created the lordly Ganas called Romajas, and from his right arm, he brought forth a hundred crore fierce Ganas. From his feet, thighs, back, sides, face, throat, secret parts, ankles, crown of the head, neck, mouth, and belly, he produced even more beings. With these noble Ganesvaras, equal in valor to Bhadra, the entire world—its spaces and openings—became filled. Each had a thousand arms, and in every hand, a thousand weapons. All were followers of Rudra, radiant with his same fierce brilliance. Holding tridents, spears, maces, axes, skulls, and stones, they resembled Kālāgni Rudra himself: three-eyed, with matted hair. Hundreds of them, riding on lions, swiftly descended through the sky, roaring like thunderclouds—these were the sons of Bhadra. Surrounded by these noble beings, the blessed Lord shone, as if joined by hundreds of fires of destruction, like Kālabhairava at the end of time. Amidst them, Bhadra mounted the great bull, the Bull-bannered Lord, advancing with splendor, shining like the creator among the clouds. Radiant as ashes, Bhadra sat upon the bull, holding a pearl-white parasol and a pure white chowrie. By his side shone the ash-hued Lord, like the lord of mountains beside the preceptor of the universe. Both Bhadra and the trident-bearing Lord gleamed with the white chowrie in hand, gentle as the young moon. In front of Bhadra, the radiant Bhānu, adorned with gold and jewels, blew a pure, auspicious conch, its sound making the earth itself tremble. Divine drums resounded, echoing through the heavens, while hundreds of clouds showered flowers upon their heads. The winds, scented with blooming, honey-filled flowers, blew gently, favoring their path. Then all the Ganesvaras, intoxicated and proud of their battle strength, advanced. At that time, Bhadra, standing among his hosts, shone with Bhadra, just as Tryambaka stands among the Rudra hosts with Ambikā. In that very moment, the mighty-armed Virabhadra, accompanied by his great followers, entered Daksha’s sacrificial enclosure, which had now become a battlefield. The noble Rudra, chief of the hosts, entered the sacrificial ground established by Daksha, as if he intended to destroy the world at its end. There, he beheld the great sacrifice of the gods, led by Vishnu—those of immeasurable might, adorned with splendid banners. The ground was covered with pure darbha grass and seasonal offerings; the sacred fire blazed brightly, surrounded by brilliant golden vessels. Sages skilled in sacrifice attended the rite, performing the rituals as prescribed by the Vedas. The place overflowed with thousands of divine maidens and was served by hosts of apsarases. The air resounded with the melodies of flutes and vīṇās, and the chants of the Vedas rose in waves. Surveying this grand scene, the mighty hero Virabhadra let out a roar like a deep thundercloud. Instantly, a tumultuous noise arose, as if filling the sky, made by the lords of the hosts—a sound so great it drowned out even the ocean. Struck by this terrible sound, all the gods dwelling in heaven were seized with fear. In panic, they fled in all directions, their garments and ornaments falling away in their haste. The gods cried out in alarm, “Has mighty Meru been shattered? Is the earth splitting apart? What is this, what is this?” Just as the roar of a lion terrifies elephants in the deep forest, so too did some, hearing that sound, abandon their very lives out of fear.