The gods looked on in terror as they beheld the mighty Kālanemi, his body battered and broken by the force of my fist, his form smeared with ashes. In a surge of wrath, Kālanemi hurled his formidable mace at Garuḍa, with the fury of Indra casting his thunderbolt against a mountain. But Viṣṇu, wielding his discus, dashed all hope for the ill-fated asura, the outcome of his own past deeds. Kālanemi, now with both his arms severed, blazed before the assembly like a scorched mountain peak. Struck down, he fell to earth like a ripe palm fruit dropping from its tree. Yet his headless trunk, once lord of the earth, remained upright and unshaken, as steadfast as Mount Meru itself. Just as Indra’s thunderbolt sends the arms and head of a foe crashing down from the heavens to the earth, so too did Kālanemi’s strength desert him. With their weapons, armor, and garments stripped away, the lords of the Asuras fled the battlefield, all except for Bāṇa who remained. The gods, still eager for battle and armed for war, withdrew for a moment from the fray. Then, addressing all the gods, someone spoke, urging them to fight on without fear or distress. Once more, the gods and the Dānavas clashed in combat, but suddenly Viṣṇu vanished from their sight. Seizing the opportunity, the radiant one among the asuras took up his mace and launched a fierce assault upon the army of the gods. He charged into their ranks, cutting down thousands, battling the foremost among the divine warriors. The battle brought corrosion and decay; even the gods’ own forces turned against them. When Janardana, the great god, departed from the field, the spirits of the gods faltered. Most of those who had dreamt of conquering the three worlds now turned and fled. Abandoning their celestial realm, they sought refuge in the abode of Brahma. Meanwhile, Bali, the asura king, ascended as the new lord of heaven, joined by his sons, brothers, and kin. The order of the cosmos shifted: Varuna became Maya, Soma transformed into Rahu, and Hlada became Hutashana. Among the newly appointed gods, many were in fact the ancient enemies of the devas, now reborn to power. A mighty battle raged between gods and demons, and even Shakra, the mighty Indra, was vanquished by Bali. Thus Bali, lord of ten realms, became celebrated as the sovereign of Bhur, Bhuvah, and Svar—the three worlds. In this new order, the Gandharvas led by Vishvavasu gathered in worship, while Yakshas, Vidyadharas, and others filled the heavens with music. In the midst of his triumph, Bali remembered his great-grandfather Prahlada, holding him in his thoughts. Prahlada swiftly rose from the netherworld to the imperishable heaven. With hands folded in reverence, Prahlada bowed at Bali’s feet. Bali, in turn, raised him up, embraced him warmly, and led him to the supreme seat. Now, with the gods defeated and Shakra’s kingdom seized by my strength and power, Bali addressed Prahlada: “Enjoy the sovereignty of the three worlds, while I, your humble servant, stand before you. Absorbed in the worship of your feet, I subsist only on the food you leave behind. The steadfastness that arises in one who serves his teacher, O Lord, is my guiding light.” Prahlada then spoke words that fulfilled righteousness, desire, and wealth: “Whatever a parent gives to his children, so too the sons must offer in return. Bali now stands as a true practitioner of yoga. Therefore, always remain devoted to the service of teachers.” In this way, Bali was quickly seated upon Indra’s throne, O Brahman. Upon the lion throne, the lord of the Daityas shone with splendor, rivaling even Maghavan. Prahlada spoke to him, his words resonant and deep as thunderclouds: “Instruct me, O Bali, in the ways of righteousness, wealth, desire, and liberation.