Until I have destroyed the armies of Pramathas and gods with a relentless shower of arrows, my resolve will not waver. With this fierce determination, the dark, swift horses were struck with the whip, O sage, but such was the strain and the weight of the task that their hips sank, and, distressed, they could barely draw the chariot forward. Even though they raced with the speed of the wind, it took an entire year to reach their destination. Upon arrival, the gods—along with Indra, Upendra, and Maheshvara—were enveloped by a mighty power. Then the blessed Janardana, the wielder of the discus, addressed the assembled gods, saying, “Therefore, desiring victory, quickly carry out my command. Let the enemy’s chariot be shattered, and let him be rendered chariotless. The adversary pointed out by the preceptor of the gods must not be neglected, O gods.” Heeding these words, the gods, together with Indra and Janardana himself, rushed forth with great speed. In the blink of an eye, the foe was struck down with a mace, and, pierced in the heart by a spear, his life left him, and he fell to the ground. The ascetics swiftly broke the chariot, which had boasted a noble banner and a sturdy axle. Yet the mighty one, seizing his mace, charged once more at the gods. Standing firm, the lord of the Daityas addressed Mahadeva with reasoned words: “Yet still, I shall defeat you—behold my valor today.” With unparalleled power, he gathered all those who were with Brahma into his own body, declaring, “Come, come, O contented one; though I stand alone, I am ready.” The Daitya, swift and determined, advanced upon Shankara, wielding his mace. Shiva, the wielder of the trident, stood on the mountain slope, facing his challenger on foot. Then, assuming a terrible and immense form that struck fear into the three worlds, Shiva appeared with a garland of serpents, a throat like a mountain cave, twenty and a half arms, and six and a half eyes. Auspicious and eternal, Shiva struck down his enemy with the trident. With great speed, the foe was hurled a krosha away. Shiva quickly uprooted the enemy, mace and all, with his trident. But the demon, grasping the trident with both hands, leapt up, and from the blow of his mace, blood poured forth in four streams. This mighty being is famed as Vidyaraja, adorned with a garland of lotuses; renowned as Kalaraja, shining like black collyrium; celebrated as Kamaraja, resembling the blossom of the flax flower; as Somaraja, renowned and adorned with a garland of discs; as Svacchandaraja, brilliant as Indra’s own weapon; as Lalitaraja, radiant like the vessel of beauty; and as Vighnaraja, the eighth—these are called the Bhairava Eight. O Brahman, Bhairava, the wielder of the trident, upheld these forms like a parasol. It was by these powers that Mahadeva, possessing seven forms, was plunged into hardship. From his forehead arose a maiden, drenched in blood, and from her was born a boy, a wondrous being resembling a cluster of limbs. The maiden, after being struck, miraculously licked up the blood that had spilled forth. Then Shankara, the bestower of boons to the world, spoke great words for the welfare of all.