Because you reproach me, it is certain that you are not wise. Thus the words were spoken, and in response, the very house itself seemed to challenge: “Come, come! If you are strong, fight!” A contest was declared: whoever could circumambulate the mighty Krauncha mountain more swiftly would be the victor. With determination, one set out on foot and, astonishingly, completed the circumambulation even faster than expected. Having accomplished this feat, Guha stood proudly and called out, “Fool, why are you standing still?” This had not been done by the challenger before, so the boy turned and addressed Śakra, seeking confirmation. Having achieved the task, they approached the great deities—Maheśa, Brahmā, and Mādhava—to speak of what had transpired. In his curiosity, he asked the mountain itself, “By whom was this circumambulation done before?” The question was repeated, and the mountain replied, “After you had done it, Guha did it later, O Gotrabhit.” Then, the crooked one, together with the buffalo, struck with his spear. Witnessing Guha slay the buffalo, the gods—Brahmā, Indra, Rudra, the Aśvins, and the chief Vasus—ascended to heaven. But Guha was stopped by the wielder of the discus, who swiftly embraced him and called him “Guru!” Hari, the enemy of the serpent-race, quickly took Kumāra, along with Śikhaṇḍin, up to heaven. Reflecting on what had occurred, one said, “My brother, my maternal uncle’s son, has been defeated by me; therefore, I will cause my own body to waste away.” Yet a path to renewal was revealed: “By bathing in the river Aghavatī and beholding Hara with devotion, you will become equal in splendor to the sun.” Following this, he bathed and worshipped the gods, and, shining like the sun, he journeyed to the mountain, the abode of Hara. There, as he worshipped the Bull-bannered One, Hara was pleased and granted him a boon. “Just as one would sever an image with the hand, may the Lord grant me the same power over Bāṇa,” he requested. Hara assured him: “The might of Bāṇa’s arms, now grown formidable, shall be cut down—of this there is no doubt.” Joyfully, he fell at Hara’s feet, offering homage and reporting the favor he had received. It was then declared that the death of Krauñca was for the sake of one who sought refuge, destroying sin and increasing merit. A question arose: “Tell me, by whom was the lord of the Daityas pierced with an arrow?” This lord was a hero, unconquered in battle, powerful, and impartial to friends, Brahmins, the poor, and the wretched alike. Yet Pātālaketu, this Daitya, was struck on the back by an arrow, swift as the crescent moon. “By whom did the prince slay that Daitya with a feathered shaft?” was asked. It was out of folly that Pātālaketu obstructed penance and disturbed meditation. Then, gazing at the sky, he released a long, hot, and deep sigh. There was a powerful horse, able to cross thousands of yojanas in a single day. Standing as if in penance, the great sage met the Daitya, and the prince pierced him with arrows. Curiosity arose: “From whom was this speech born, O bodiless one?” In response, it was told that the horse was quickly released into the world for the sake of Ṛtadhvaja’s daughter. “What is the purpose of King Kuvalayāśva and the prince?” was inquired. She, the purpose of their quest, was a treasure of beauty, radiant as moonlight, named Madālasā—indeed, Madālasā herself. But Pātālaketu carried off the slender maiden; for her sake, that excellent horse was given. Just as Śacī beheld Mahendra, the lord of the gods, so did the king’s son behold the doe-eyed maiden. “What did the wise son of Hiraṇyākṣa do next?” was asked. That extremely wicked-minded slayer of the gods’ army became enraged. Emerging from the underworld, he roamed the earth, and there he saw Gaurī, the daughter of the mountain, standing among her companions, auspicious in form.