As the battle raged, the earth was strewn with fallen beings, their forms consumed and utterly destroyed. In terror, with their hair disheveled and eyes blazing, the surviving asuras fled to seek refuge in Raktabija, their formidable leader. Raktabija, furious and trembling with rage, drove away the hosts of spirits from all directions as he entered the fray. A dreadful power marked his presence: wherever even a single drop of his blood touched the earth, from that very spot arose another asura, equal in might and form. Witnessing this, the gods cried out, “O Chandi, quickly drink his blood! Spread your mouth wide, like the consuming fire at the end of time!” Heeding their plea, the goddess stood tall, her upper lip brushing the heavens and her lower lip touching the earth, clad in a fearsome garb of hide and skulls. She pierced Raktabija with her trident, and as his blood spurted forth, she caught every drop in her mouth, preventing the birth of more asuras. Powerless, Raktabija was shattered into a hundred pieces by her golden-adorned discus. The surviving asuras, struck with grief, cried out, “Alas, father! Alas, brother! Where are you going? Stay a moment, come back!” But, smitten upon the earth by the goddess Mridani, the daityas fled in terror, seeking refuge in the vastness of the great mountain. Among them, Nishumbha, enraged, approached Mridani, though his chariot had been shattered by her discus. Stricken by paralysis, confusion, and fever, he stood motionless, as if painted. He said, “With this strength, you have conquered the gods; with this same power, you now challenge me.” After reflecting, Nishumbha, skilled in speech, declared, “You will be shattered into a hundred pieces, O timid one, like a clay pot in water. Therefore, I resolve—accept me, wide-eyed one. Turn your mind from battle and become my wife at this very moment.” With a deep, serious laugh, Nishumbha added, “If you desire marriage here, then first defeat me in combat.” At that moment, Narada hurled a weapon swiftly toward Kaushiki, but she, with wondrous skill, cut it down along with the hide. With the speed of the wind, she rushed at the one born from the treasury. Ambika, in the heat of battle, cut down his mace with a razor-edged weapon. The mothers, beginning with Chanda, delightedly made a clattering sound, and in their joy, cried out, “Victory! Triumph!” as the enemy was struck down. The gods, overwhelmed with gratitude, showered flowers upon Katyayani. Nishumbha, mounting his mighty elephant Vrindaraka and holding a noose in his hand, approached once more, taking up four arrows radiant as the crescent moon. Ambika, smiling playfully, struck two jars with two arrows, as skillfully as Indra strikes the head of the king of mountains with his thunderbolt. Shiva, with another arrow, severed the head adorned with earrings, just as Mahasena strikes down the crane or the buffalo. The asuras, having reached the great mountain, bowed humbly and offered words of praise to the goddess. They said, “Salutations to you, giver of the kingdoms of Hari and Hara; salutations to you, accomplisher of the deeds of the sacrificers. Salutations to you, destroyer of the buffalo demon, praised by Hari, Hara, and Bhaskara. Salutations to you, remover of the world’s suffering, wielder of the trident; salutations to you, Narayani, bearer of the discus. Salutations to you, bearer of the thunderbolt, with the elephant banner; salutations to you, Kaumari, who rides the peacock. Salutations to you, who ride upon the donkey’s back; salutations to you, remover of all suffering, who are the universe itself. Salutations to you, all-pervading, three-eyed one; repeated salutations to you, bestower of boons—be gracious. “You are difficult to behold, O Narasimhi, with a roaring voice; you are Indrani, armed with the thunderbolt; you are Mari, clad in hide, delighting in the path of skulls, a Yogini accomplished in yoga.