Eager and full of longing, I have come here to see you and to journey onward. Tell me, were you invited by your father to the great sacrifice, or do you intend to go regardless? My own maternal uncle, Śaśāṅka, attended the sacrifice with his wife, and it seemed that everyone was called to this gathering. Why then, were you left out, when all others received an invitation? Overcome with anger, O Brahmin, she met her tragic end. Tears streamed from her eyes as she wailed aloud in her sorrow. Hearing her cries, someone exclaimed, "Ah, what is this?" and approached Jaya. There she was—righteous, yet collapsed on the ground, her limbs slack, struck down as if by an axe. Why had she fallen, this virtuous one, like a severed vine? The news quickly reached Daksha’s sisters at the sacrifice, and their husbands as well. Her maternal aunt, burning with grief, was undone by sorrow. From the body of the furious one, flames burst forth, and from that wrath, hosts with lion faces arose, led by the fierce Virabhadra. Virabhadra made his way to Kanakhala, where Daksha was conducting the sacrifice. In the northwestern direction, the trident-bearing Lord stood. In the center, Sharva stood as well, holding his trident in three places, his wrath palpable. The seers, yakshas, and gandharvas all wondered in astonishment, "What is this?" Then Dharma, the gatekeeper, rushed at Virabhadra. With one hand, Virabhadra seized a blazing trident, and with a fourth hand, he grasped a mighty mace, charging at Dharma. Dharma stood firm, transforming into an eight-armed, imperishable form, bearing many weapons. He readied his bow and arrows, intent on slaying the lord of the hosts, and unleashed a torrent of sharp arrows, like rain pouring from a monsoon cloud. Their bodies, drenched and reddened with blood, shone like kimshuka trees in bloom. Suddenly, O sage, the gods themselves rose up, weapons in hand. The twelve Ādityas led by Indra, and the eleven Rudras, along with the Yakshas, Kimpurushas, birds, and mountain-bearers, all joined the fray. Ugra, famed among the Bhojas and mighty-armed, born of the Soma lineage, stood among them. All these warriors, armed for battle, rushed at the fierce Virabhadra. With great speed, Virabhadra charged at them all, sending volleys of arrows. Ganesha too fought fiercely, cutting down his opponents with mighty weapons. Under the onslaught of Virabhadra, the gods and their allies were thrown into confusion. Meanwhile, the sages who were conducting the sacrifice continued to offer oblations, but fear overtook them. Frightened, they abandoned the sacrificial fire and sought refuge in the imperishable one. The wielder of the great weapon, seeing their distress, reassured them, saying, "Do not fear," and rose up to defend them. He unleashed weapons that could tear through the strongest armor at Virabhadra, but those weapons were broken and fell to the ground, like beggars who have lost all hope. He prepared to cover Virabhadra with a rain of divine weapons, but Virabhadra blocked them with his trident, mace, and arrows. Striking with his trident, he brought his adversaries down to the earth, powerful and unstoppable in his wrath.