“I myself will heal the wounds of Pinākin,” declared the goddess, her words resolute and filled with compassion. Having thus spoken, she affirmed her promise and gracefully rose from her noble seat. Standing before the mighty wielder of the trident, she gazed intently upon him, carefully observing his divine form and the marks upon his body. In that moment, her discerning eyes recognized the fierce demon, whose true form was hidden behind a veil of illusion. Perceiving the goddess’s intent, the demon Andhaka abandoned the body of Sunda and rushed along the very path the goddess had taken. Sensing his pursuit, Girijā—frightened by his approach—fled swiftly. Yet, intoxicated and relentless, Andhaka continued his chase, determined to follow her wherever she went. Overcome by fear, Gaurī sought refuge within a pure white arka blossom, vanishing from sight. With Pārvatī thus hidden, Hiraṇyalocanī again became involved, and as Andhaka entered the city, he did so with his own formidable forces. At this critical moment, Viṣṇu—the best among the hosts of immortals, bearer of the discus and mace—appeared. With arrows launched from his radiant Śārṅga bow, he pierced the foremost of the Dānavas. Some he struck down with his mace, while others were slain by his spinning discus. Still others he drew near with his plough, crushing them with his mighty pestle. Amidst this tumult, the primeval person—the ancient creator and grandsire—appeared. The Dānavas were touched by the sacred water of Brahmā, composed of all holy fords, and that sin-destroying water sanctified them. Yet, witnessing the destroyer of Brahmā slaying the great Asuras in battle, the Dānavas were filled with awe and dread. As the fierce conflict raged, Bala, the foremost among the Dānavas and mighty son of Danu—invincible to both gods and demons—charged into the fray. The thunderbolt was hurled at his head with the cry, “Fool, you are slain!” but the weapon shattered upon him. Seeing this, Bala fled, and even the lord of the gods, frightened, turned his back and withdrew from the battle, overwhelmed by fear. But a voice called out to him: “Stand your ground! You are king of all that moves and does not move. Flight is not spoken of in the kingly code.” Approaching humbly, the lord of the gods said, “Hear my words, O Lord! You are my refuge, O Viṣṇu, Lord of past and future. Grant me a weapon, O Blessed One; I have taken refuge in you.” Viṣṇu replied, “Pray for a weapon from Agni; he will surely grant it to you.” So Indra sought refuge with Agni, and the sage Nārada spoke: “Now Jambha is being summoned; therefore, give me a weapon.” Agni, pleased by Indra’s humility and surrender, declared, “Because you have abandoned pride and taken refuge in me alone—” and the Blessed One, shining with divine brilliance, bestowed a powerful weapon upon Indra before ascending to heaven. Armed anew, Indra—the destroyer of enemies—advanced to meet the formidable Jambha, intent on slaying him. But Jambha, filled with wrath, struck down the lord of elephants, who fell to the earth like a mountain shattered by Indra’s own thunderbolt, abandoning the heights of Mandara mountain as he crashed down. “Do not fall, O Śakra! Remain upon the earth today, O Vāsava,” urged his companions. Indra replied, “How can I fight the enemy without wings?” They encouraged him: “Fight on! Mount the chariot; when it is ready, we shall send it to you.” Soon, a chariot adorned with a monkey-banner and surrounded on all sides by valiant monkeys was prepared. Messengers, led by Viśvāvasu, were dispatched to Indra, ready to support him in the great struggle that lay ahead.