Even when a person is restrained by the consequences of their past actions, karma relentlessly drives them onward. In this way, Gauri instructed with gentle compassion, urging that many words of kindness should indeed be spoken. Thus, following her guidance, the sage with the face of a monkey began to speak as well. However, after hearing all that was said, a surge of anger arose within the wicked-minded one. Consumed by wrath, he summoned his entire army. This vast host swelled and surged like the four oceans at the end of an age, threatening to overwhelm all before it. Gauri beheld the wondrous and fearsome army of the Daityas. These beings were strange and terrifying in form: each had only one foot, one eye, and one leg, with ears and breasts hanging low. Yet, undaunted, the Goddess declared, “I consume all this, and still it is not enough for me. What more is there for you to do here? You should simply stand by and watch.” As these words were spoken, the conch was sounded by the hosts of Yoginīs, signaling the onset of battle. The Daityas, seeing the Goddess advancing in a terrifying form, grew fearful, but unleashed showers of weapons in every direction. The battlefield was filled with hundreds of millions of chariots, lordly elephants, and swift horses. The Mothers of various forms, the Ḍākinīs, and the hosts of Yoginīs all joined the fray. The great Asuras confronted the army created by the Goddess—a force impossible to defeat. Amidst the chaos, the Goddess was seen, armed and blazing with power, surrounded by the slain Asuras. When she had descended from the summit of Kailāsa to perform austerities on earth, she was accompanied by Dundubhi, known as Satyavatī, and Antavatī, the supreme one. From her wrath, Caṇḍā and Muṇḍā were created, terrifying beings with fangs and bracelets of teeth. Seizing a certain Asura, the Goddess began to dance, her movements fierce and majestic. Witnessing her, the arrogant demon was inflamed with the fire of anger. His long tongue, blazing like a flame, licked the peaks of towering mountains. With a terrible, deep, and dreadful roar, he bewildered the gods, whirling his staff so quickly it became a blur. But for the sake of death, Bhavānī—shining with the strength of three armies and standing upon a lion—advanced fearlessly. The battle intensified. In his rage, the demon filled the sky with a great shower of mountains. Yet, from afar, the Goddess drove back this onslaught with a mighty shower of arrows. Though struck repeatedly, the lord of the Daityas, unyielding as the heart of a mountain, endured the blows. Swords, discs, spears, and lances rained down upon him. Then, a fearsome lion-shaped being with a roaring mouth appeared. This lion, the vahana of the Goddess, struck the demon with a mighty slap of its paw. In response, the demon took the form of a tiger, a great being with a wide-gaping mouth and a tawny body marked with long, dark blue stripes. Though powerful, he seemed like a beast seeking rescue, exposed before the Goddess. As he advanced in this form, the Goddess struck him with a shining arrow, which lodged in his face and drenched him in blood. Undeterred, the demon transformed again, assuming the form of a mighty elephant and charging swiftly at the Goddess. As he advanced, the earth was soaked with the flow of his rut. A heroic sword-bearer, armed with a shining shield, emerged to meet him. The Goddess herself stood forth, her hands gleaming with sword and discus, ready to bring the battle to its fateful end.