The great battle had reached its peak. The Devi, fierce and compassionate, sent a message through Śiva himself to the mighty asura brothers: “Speak to Śumbha and Niśumbha if you wish to live. Let Indra regain his rightful place in heaven, and allow the gods to be free from their suffering. But if you are proud of your strength, then choose battle as you will.” Thus, with the words of the goddess delivered by her messenger, Nārada, the stage was set. The asuras, undaunted, responded with a roar, gathering their armies and surging toward Kātyāyanī, the Queen of the Gods. Śumbha and Niśumbha, the two great demons, unleashed a storm of sharp spears and massive clubs, raining them down upon her. In the midst of this chaos, Maheśvarī, filled with fierce valor, struck down other mighty demons with volleys of arrows, her aim unerring. Brāhmī, invoking her own power, hurled great torrents of water, washing away the strength of yet more asuras. Kumari attacked with the thunderbolt, Indrani pecked fiercely with her beak, and the Varaha-formed goddess spun her discus, each one adding to the devastation. Rudra wielded his trident with terrible force, and Vinayaka joined the fray, swinging his axe with might. The asuras fell to the earth, defeated and devoured, their destruction complete. Terrified, their hair unbound and their eyes wild, the surviving demons fled to Raktabija, seeking his protection. Raktabija, furious, lips trembling with rage, swept aside the hosts of spirits and entered the battlefield. Yet, with every drop of his blood that touched the earth, another asura equal in power sprang forth—an endless tide of enemies. Witnessing this, the gods cried out, “Chandi, drink the blood quickly! Spread your mouth wide like the consuming fire!” Chandi responded, her form immense: her upper lip touched the sky, her lower lip the earth, her body adorned with a hide and garlanded with skulls. She pierced Raktabija with her trident, and as his blood poured, she caught each drop in her mouth, preventing new demons from arising. Powerless and shattered, Raktabija was finally destroyed, broken into a hundred pieces by her golden-adorned discus. As the asuras fell, their cries echoed: “Alas, father! Alas, brother! Where are you going? Stay a moment, come back!” But struck down by Mridani, the daityas fled in terror, seeking refuge in the great mountain. Enraged by the defeat, Niśumbha, his chariot smashed by the discus, charged at Mridani. Yet he was suddenly afflicted—paralyzed, deluded, fevered—his body as if painted, unable to move. The goddess addressed him, “With this strength, you conquered the gods. Now, with this same power, you seek to conquer me?” Niśumbha paused and, after reflection, spoke as only the wisest could: “You will be shattered into a hundred pieces, O timid one, like a clay pot in water. Therefore, I resolve—accept me, you with the wide eyes. Turn your mind from battle; become my wife at this very moment.” But with a deep and serious laugh, Niśumbha added, “If you truly desire marriage, then defeat me in combat.” Nārada, swift as thought, hurled a weapon toward Kauśikī, who cut it down, hide and all, in a display of wonder. She rushed at the one born from the treasury, her speed rivaling the wind. Ambikā, in the thick of battle, sliced through the mace and her foe with a razor-edged weapon. The mothers, beginning with Caṇḍā, rejoiced, making a clattering sound of delight. Their cries of “Victory! Triumph!” rang out as the enemy was struck down, and the gods themselves showered flowers upon Kātyāyanī in gratitude. But the battle was not yet over. Mounting his mighty Vṛndāraka, noose in hand, Niśumbha advanced once more. He seized four arrows, radiant as the crescent moon. Ambikā, smiling playfully, loosed two arrows, striking the two jars he bore, as powerfully as when Indra’s thunderbolt strikes the head of the king of mountains. Thus, the divine forces, steadfast and radiant, continued to triumph over the asuras, upholding righteousness and restoring peace to the worlds.