On the right flank of the battlefield, mighty Varuna advanced, steadfastly supporting the side of the gods. The armies, their arms raised high and wielding a dazzling array of weapons and missiles, confronted the formidable enemy force that had gathered upon the mountain. There, amid a barren landscape devoid of trees and birds, a fierce battle erupted between the gods and the demons—a clash reminiscent of the legendary struggle between the monkey and the elephant atop the highest peak. Suddenly, a cloud tinged with the hues of twilight appeared in the sky, casting an ominous glow over the scene, O best of ascetics. Throughout night and day, the air was filled with the relentless sounds of battle: cries of "Cut! Break!" echoed everywhere. Blood began to flow, mingling with dust, creating an atmosphere of utter confusion. Together, the gods charged forward, led by the wise Skanda. Yet the Daityas, protected by the powers of Maya and fierce in combat, struck down the gods with relentless force. O Narada, the gods suffered defeat at the hands of the Daityas, even with Skanda fighting alongside them. Then, bowing reverently to the Sharnga bow, one struck again and again with a shower of arrows. The Daityas, seeking refuge, turned to Kalanemi, the great asura. Their strength grew, just as a neglected disease worsens over time. The mighty one seized each enemy and hurled them into a wide-open mouth. The discus blazed like fire, spreading horizontally and upward between earth and sky, consuming all in its path—as if the fire of time itself had come, and the world took the form of one desiring to devour everything. Overwhelmed, the Daityas attacked Hari—honored by the hosts of immortals and adorned with a lovely crown—with volleys of weapons and missiles. Their glory faded, yet their arrogance overflowed. With eyes reddened in anger, Viṣṇu swept away the strength of chariots, elephants, and horses simply by his gaze, and with well-feathered nārāca arrows, he covered his foes as a cloud covers the mountains. At the outset, Śatavadana, lord of the Dānavas, sent Kālanemi against Keśava—the lord of the gods' army and master of the worlds, whose strength knows no bounds. That Dānava, whose voice thundered, saw Viṣṇu—proud and destroyer of the Daitya clan—and laughed, speaking at length: "He who ends Hiraṇya's line and delights in worship with flowers—where does that wretch go, fallen within my sight? The gods, their eyes filled with fear, will see him, his limbs crushed and loosened by my fist, covered in ashes!" In his fury, Kālanemi hurled his mace upon Garuḍa, just as Indra throws his thunderbolt upon a mountain. But Viṣṇu, with his discus, dashed the hopes of that ill-fated one, the result of his former deeds. Both arms severed, Kālanemi's form blazed like a scorched mountain as he appeared before them. Struck down, he fell like a ripe palm fruit. His headless trunk, lord of the earth, stood unshaken like Mount Meru. Just as Indra cast down the arms and head of the defeated from sky to earth with his thunderbolt, so too was Kālanemi vanquished. Deprived of weapons, armor, and garments, the lords of the Asuras fled, all except Bāṇa. The gods, eager for battle and armed, withdrew from the fight. Then, addressing all the gods, a voice urged, "Fight on, free from distress!" They joined battle once more with the Dānavas, but Viṣṇu vanished from sight. Taking up his mace, the radiant one attacked the gods' army, charging and striking down thousands. The mighty one engaged in combat with the foremost warriors of the gods. The consequence was corrosion—even your own army assailed the gods. When Janardana, the god, departed, most lost heart. Those who sought to conquer the three worlds fled behind. Abandoning heaven, they reached the realm of Brahma. Bali became the enjoyer of heaven, along with his sons, brothers, and kin. Varuna became Maya, Soma became Rahu, and Hlada became Hutashana.