The command was harsh and unyielding: though she was without fault, she was to be made a slave and brought forth at once. There was no room for hesitation—even if the one to be slain was an ancestor, his death was decreed. Surrounded by six formidable warriors, the demon approached the mighty Mount Vindhya with determination. “If she will not come willingly, I shall drag her by her hair,” he threatened, intent on subduing her by force. Yet another scoffed, “What could a powerless woman do? Do as you wish.” With this, the demon surged forward, gripping his mace and brimming with strength. But his arrogance was short-lived. In a blaze of divine power, he and his forces were reduced to ashes—consumed as dry wood is by fire—by the goddess Kauśikī. Witnessing this devastation, those present saw the demon and his army utterly destroyed by her might. Undeterred, the demon king commanded the fierce Caṇḍa and Muṇḍa, two mighty asuras, to attack. Their army was vast and unmatched, teeming with elephants, horses, and chariots. As this immense force surged forward, numbering in the hundreds of millions, the goddess met them with playful yet deadly ferocity—some were struck down by her very hand, others by her mouth. The lion who dwelt in the mountain caves also joined the battle, slaughtering the demons. Seeing their forces overwhelmed, the lips of the asuras quivered with anger. As Caṇḍa and Muṇḍa, filled with wrath, pressed on, a terrifying form emerged: Kālī, the auspicious yoginī, her face fearsome, her limbs withered, her body smeared with blood, and a garland of kings’ heads hanging around her neck. Greatly enraged, Kālī struck down enemy horses, chariots, and elephants with savage power. Ambikā, too, hurled an elephant and its driver into her mouth, and seized a warrior, crushing him between her teeth. Another she trampled beneath her foot, sending him to his death. Witnessing this, the demon Ruru fled in terror, but Caṇḍī, ever watchful, saw him. He fell to the earth, slain like a tree felled at its root. She tore open his armor and cast it aside from his ear to his feet. Among the demons, only one remained unbound; she seized this one and threw her to the ground. At this moment, the goddess revealed a form half dark, half pale, and from then on, she became renowned as Caṇḍamārī. Declaring, “I myself will slay them; you must bring them here,” she sent her followers forth. Terrified, Caṇḍa and Muṇḍa fled, seeking refuge in the southern direction. The goddess mounted a swift ass, moving with the speed of Garuḍa himself. On her way, she saw Pauṇḍra, the buffalo, and Māsya. Grasping Pauṇḍra in her hand, she pursued the Dānavas with the swiftness of the wind. The great goddess, still astride the donkey, rushed forward relentlessly. When she encountered Karkoṭaka, the serpent, his hair stood on end in fear. The fierce feathers of the divine bird Garuḍa rained down upon him. With unyielding speed, the goddess pursued the terrified Caṇḍa and Muṇḍa, and with the help of Karkoṭaka, she bound them and brought them to Mount Vindhya. There, she presented the heads of the demon lords and the splendid feathers of Garuḍa, offering also the rattling hide of the lion. And with her own hand, the goddess drank the blood of the defeated demons, sealing her victory and displaying her awe-inspiring power.