Then, in the thick of battle, the illustrious leader of the hosts—fierce in valor—seized a dreadful arrow, one that blazed with the deadly brilliance of a venomous serpent. As he drew it back, his arm, joined to the quiver and his mouth, took on the aspect of a serpent emerging from its anthill, poised to strike. The arrow itself, raised high in his hand, gleamed like a young serpent recently bitten by a greater snake, radiating danger and power. With this dense and formidable arrow, Bhadra—mighty with the strength of Rudra—struck out in anger, piercing the imperishable Vishnu right in the forehead. Struck so, Vishnu, who had already been insulted, became inflamed with wrath against the lord of the hosts, just as a bull would turn furiously against a lion. Now, with a face contorted in anger and a great arrow flashing like lightning, Vishnu pierced the arm of the king of the hosts, which itself resembled a serpent in its strength. In response, Virabhadra, mighty and resolute, unleashed an arrow radiant as ten thousand suns, sending it speeding toward Vishnu’s arm. Again and again, Vishnu and Bhadra struck each other, their arrows flying in rapid exchange. Thus, O Brahmins, the two mighty beings attacked each other relentlessly with their weapons. As they loosed their arrows with force and swiftness, a tumultuous and hair-raising battle erupted between them, shaking the heavens and the earth. Witnessing the ferocity of their combat, a great cry of “Alas!” arose in the sky, uttered by the celestial beings, aghast at the spectacle. Then Bhadra, taking up an arrow that blazed like the tongue of fire, struck Vishnu firmly in the chest. The arrow, falling upon him with terrible speed and force, filled Vishnu with excruciating pain and bewilderment, and he fell to the ground, overcome. But after a moment, regaining his senses, Hari rose up, his resolve unbroken. He unleashed all his divine weapons upon Bhadra, filling the air with a storm of arrows. Yet Vishnu, the lord of the army of arrows, was met with terrifying counter-arrows, and he repelled them all in an instant. Now, with his eyes reddened in fury, Vishnu released an unimpeded arrow, marked with his own name, aiming it at the lord of the hosts. But Bhadra, undaunted, countered with his own excellent arrow, Bhadrāhvaya. Even before Vishnu’s arrow could reach its mark, the Blessed One cut it into a hundred pieces in mid-flight. With one arrow, Bhadra severed Vishnu’s Śārṅga bow; with two more, he clipped the wings of Garuda. All this happened in the blink of an eye, a display of wondrous skill and power. Then, by the power of his yoga, Vishnu released from his body fierce divine beings—thousands of them, each bearing conch, discus, and mace in their hands. Yet, in a mere moment, Bhadra incinerated them all with fire that blazed from his eye, just as Śankara once burned the cities of Tripura. Seeing his forces destroyed, Vishnu’s rage only intensified. He swiftly raised his discus, preparing to hurl it. But as the discus was raised and ready, the lord of the hosts, Bhadra, as if smiling, effortlessly rendered it motionless. That terrible, peerless discus became fixed in place, unmoving. Though Vishnu wished to release it, he could not; his arm, with the discus attached, was frozen in midair. He stood there, exhausted, unmoving as a stone, his body inert, like a lifeless being or a bull robbed of its horns. Yet, like a lion baring its fangs, Vishnu stood defiant. Seeing Vishnu in such dire straits, Indra and the other gods, roused by the lord of the hosts, rushed forward with weapons in hand, their anger aroused, ready for battle—like bulls charging a lion. But Bhadra regarded them as insignificant, just as Hari would see wild beasts. That hero—an embodiment of Rudra himself—stood surrounded by chosen warriors, letting out a terrible, roaring laugh, fearless and unassailable. Shatamukha, even wielding the thunderbolt, found his right hand, as he sought to strike, only appeared adorned with the weapon, unable to inflict harm. The arms of all the other gods, though bloodied, were weak and faltering, their efforts failing as they advanced. Thus, by the lord’s might, the splendor of the immortals was thwarted; in battle, they could not stand before him. Their limbs rigid, shaken by fear, they fled in all directions. Amidst the chaos, overwhelmed by Bhadra’s valor and brilliance, they took their stand as best they could. Virabhadra, the mighty-armed, pursued the fleeing gods, striking them with sharp arrows as Magha showers mountains with rain. His many arms, resembling iron clubs, shone with blazing weapons, like serpents crowned with tongues of fire. Releasing countless weapons and missiles, the hero shone forth, as the origin of the universe once released all beings into creation. Just as the sun covers the earth with its rays, so did Bhadra, in an instant, cover all directions with his arrows. The lord of the hosts’ arrows, adorned with gold, soared through the sky like flashes of lightning. The mighty ones separated the gods from their lives, much as frogs scatter at the beating of drums, and drank the intoxicating blood of their foes. Some gods had their arms severed, others their faces torn, and some were ripped at the sides; thus, the immortals fell to the earth. With bodies pierced by arrows, joints shattered, and eyes turned upward, many fell dead to the ground, some wishing to enter the earth, others longing to ascend the sky. Unable to restrain themselves, some melted together in fear; others hid in the caves of mountains upon the earth. Still others fled into the sky, while some sought refuge in the waters. Thus did Bhadra, the hero, shine among the gods, victorious, with all his enemies’ limbs severed, standing alone in his terrible glory.