A tumultuous scene unfolded as the mighty warriors, seizing formidable weapons, moved across the heavens with the fierce power of Garuda, their presence like serpents of immense strength. Even the gods themselves fled before them, while these warriors soared through the sky, resembling mountain peaks in their grandeur. Some among them tore houses from their foundations—complete with latticed windows and railings—and hurled them into the swirling waters below. The Pramathas, dark as storm clouds, let out thunderous roars, shaking the very atmosphere. Doors, walls, and balconies were overturned and destroyed; the sacred enclosure of the sacrifice lay broken, its purpose lost, abandoned like a meaningless statement. As homes were uprooted, the cries of women echoed through the chaos: “O protector! O father!” “O son!” “O brother!” “O mother!”—voices filled with anguish and abandonment. Overwhelmed by terror and panic, the principal gods, led by Vishnu and Indra, fled from the scene. Witnessing the gods attacked—though their bodies were blameless—and seeing the guilty unpunished, the foremost leader of the hosts grew furious. He seized his trident, a weapon that subdues all powers, his gaze uplifted and his mighty arms ablaze, flames issuing from his mouth. With the force of a lion dispersing elephants, he drove away even the gods, his advance magnificent and awe-inspiring. Like a maddened soul in Varanasi, he became a spectacle, disturbing the great army of the gods. He moved like a wild leader of elephants in a vast lake, displaying many hues—blue, pale, and red. Draped in a garment of tiger skin adorned with golden stars, he strode among the assemblies of gods, noble as fire raging through a forest, swift and bearing his trident. All the gods regarded him as if he were a thousand, and beside him, Bhadrakali, enraged and intoxicated by the fury of battle, advanced. Her trident blazed as she pierced the gods in combat, shining with the wrathful energy born from Rudra himself. In the midst of battle, Bhadrakali’s radiance flickered like the smoke-darkened fire at the end of an age, causing the gods to scatter in fear. Just as the worlds are consumed by the flames of Shesha’s fire at the end of a cosmic cycle, Bhadrakali, foremost among the Rudras and their hosts, attacked the Sun mounted on his horse. With swift playfulness, Bhadrakali struck the Sun’s head with her left foot; she assailed Agni with swords, and Yama and his consort with spears. She struck the Rudras with a sturdy trident, Varuna with heavy maces, Nirriti with iron clubs, and Vayu herself with a sharp-edged weapon. The heroic Lord of the Ganas shattered in battle all the hosts of gods and sages who opposed Shambhu. With the tip of his fingernail, he cut off the beautiful tip of Sarasvati’s nose, and likewise that of the mother of the gods. With an axe, he severed Agni’s arm, and before all, sliced off two finger-widths of the goddess mother’s tongue. He also cut off the right nostril of the goddess Svaha with the tip of his fingernail, and her left nipple as well. Bhadrakali, of supreme speed, forcibly tore out the large, lotus-like eyes of Bhaga. With the tip of his bow, he struck down the shining row of teeth of Pushan, gleaming like pearls, so that Pushan could no longer speak clearly. The god then pressed the Moon playfully with his big toe, as if he were a worm, rubbing him against the ground. In the height of her wrath, Bhadrakali cut off Daksha’s head and gave it to herself, while Vairini wailed in sorrow. Delighted, the goddess took Daksha’s head, round as a palm fruit, and played ball with it on the battlefield. Daksha’s sacrificial wife, like a puppet among her husbands, was struck by the Lords of the Ganas with their feet and hands. Ariṣṭanemi, Soma, Dharma, Prajapati, Bahuputra, Angirasa, Krishashva, and Kasyapa—all were seized by the powerful Ganas, lion-like in their stride. They grabbed them by the throat, harshly rebuked them, and struck their heads with their fists. The wives and children of the gods were violated by spirits and ghouls, seized as women of noble families are overpowered by adulterers in the Kali age. The sacrificial ground was devastated: ritual vessels overturned, posts broken, festivities ended, the great hall set ablaze, gates and arches shattered. The army of the gods was uprooted, ascetics slain, the solemn chanting of Brahman silenced, and the gathering of people diminished. The sacrificial enclosure, struck by calamity, became like a deserted forest—filled with wailing, distressed women, and all their attendants slain. The foremost of the gods fell to the earth, their arms, thighs, and chests shattered by the force of spears, their heads severed. When thousands of gods had been slain and fallen, the Lord of the Ganas entered the sacrificial fire at once. Seeing this formidable one, resembling the fire of destruction, enter, the sacrifice itself, terrified of death, fled in the form of a deer. Then Bhadra, stringing his great bow with a terrifying twang, pursued the sacrifice, releasing arrows as he went. Drawing the bow fully to his ear, he made a sound like thunder, causing the bowstring to resound throughout sky, atmosphere, and earth. Struck by this deafening sound, the sacrificial being, bewildered and crying “I am slain!”, was pierced by a curved half-arrow from that heroic one.