That chariot was a marvel beyond compare, unconquerable even by the greatest of gods, demons, asuras, or rākṣasas. Its four radiant wheels shone with the brilliance of a thousand suns, and its presence was formidable and tumultuous, adorned with the banner of Garuḍa, the king of birds. With reverence, Janārdana, the abode of all worlds, circled the chariot to the right, bowing to the deities before him. Then, with swift determination, he journeyed to the very realm of Yama. There, the wielder of the mighty Śārṅga bow sounded his conch, its resonance echoing through the dread halls of Naraka. Within that hellish domain, mortals who had devoted themselves to sinful deeds found their weapons suddenly dulled, and all manner of restraints lost their power over them. Even the terrible sword-leaf forest, Asipatravana, was stripped of its cruel foliage. The fearsome regions—Bhairava, Abhairava, Kumbhīpāka, and Avācika—were shaken, and the once-impassable river Vaitaraṇī, which marked the end of Naraka, became easy to cross for men at the Lord’s arrival. With Janārdana’s presence, the sins of those souls were destroyed, and all were freed from the torments of Naraka. They rose joyfully together, thousands at a time, boarding celestial chariots that carried them away. In that moment, O sage, the entire realm of hell became empty. But as the messengers of Death beheld this, and the warriors of Krishna stood near, the attendants of Yama called out, “O hero, do not bring the chariot along this path! There are men here condemned by Yama, not to be released even after millions of years.” Hearing these words, Janārdana’s heart filled with deep compassion for the suffering souls. He declared, “I am the giver of heaven to all, and the one who prevents entry into Yama’s realm.” Alarmed, the messengers hurried to Yama and reported all that had transpired. Yama, filled with wrath, addressed his attendants: “Go there and stop him! Seize him and bring him here!” Thus commanded, the fierce attendant Narantaka advanced. Yet, when he could not stop Janārdana, Narantaka stood firm, his anger kindled. Even Baladeva, struck in battle by a storm of arrows, took up his divine bow, and together with Krishna, struck down Yama’s attendants. Narantaka too, though valiant, was overpowered by their might. As the heroic Narantaka fell, the messengers of Yama, terrified by the onslaught of Rama and Krishna, were thrown into panic. Then Yama himself, enraged, advanced, surrounded on all sides by his loyal followers. The air thundered with the tumult of drums, trumpets, and cowhorns. The gods, Vidyadharas, and Siddhas looked on in awe as the mighty Yama approached. Amidst the chaos, the attendants, not spurred on by Citragupta, pressed the attack. Both armies clashed, striking down foes and even Keśava in the fray. Janārdana tore through thousands of attendants on all sides, invincible in battle, shielded by the power of Kāmadeva. Witnessing his foremost attendant torn apart, Citragupta cried out in distress. With five arrows, he struck Kṛṣṇamāyānta in battle, and with eight more, wounded his face. But Kṛtānta, taking up his own chariot, departed, while Citragupta, pierced by arrows, fell unconscious. The chiefs of Yama’s forces were broken; the divisions shattered. As the news of Citragupta’s defeat spread, destruction swept through the ranks—fierce and consuming, like the submarine fire that rises at the end of the age to annihilate all beings. So did the battle rage for the destruction of the wicked, under the gaze of the Lord.