From his eyes, tears fell to the earth, each drop burning like a shower of fire. In the fury of battle, he was shattered into a hundred pieces, like a mountain peak struck by lightning. Yet, undaunted, the hero seized his bow, drawing a sharp arrow from his quiver. His face, darkened by anger, he released the arrow at Sadhya, and with other arrows, he pierced and wounded the demon. Their combat became a furious exchange, each piercing the other with serpent-like arrows that struck at the vital points. Those who longed to witness the clash beheld a swift, marvelous, and truly wondrous battle. The Sadhya and Daitya heroes, locked in combat, showered each other with an incomparable rain of flowers, and their skill as archers brought delight to all who watched. With volleys of arrows, they covered every direction and the spaces between, filling the air with steel and fury. The hero pierced Prahlada in all his vital spots, striking at the heart, the arms, and the face. With one arrow, shining like a crescent moon, he cut his opponent’s weapon apart. Swiftly, he strung his bow and sent forth a shower of sharp arrows. But the supreme person, with a razor-edged arrow, cut down the bow itself, and, moving quickly, destroyed whatever new weapon was taken up. A fierce, long, and sturdy club of iron was then whirled in the air, but the great sage cut it down with a broad-headed arrow. The foremost of men hurled a mighty mace at his foe, but the adept cut it into ten pieces, and the shattered weapon fell to the earth. Again, a weapon was hurled at the best of men, but the righteous one cut it apart, and the mighty ascetic, powerful and austere, destroyed it with a razor-edged arrow. Then, taking up more arrows, he shielded himself, O Nārada. With a broad-headed arrow, the lord struck the ascetic of Surata in the heart. The ascetic fell onto the chariot floor, and the charioteer carried him away from the field. But, undeterred, the fallen hero took up a strong bow and returned to the battle. Yet, at that moment, a voice called out: “Go, O lord of the Daityas; we shall fight in the morning. Perform your daily rites.” So he went to the sacred Naimisha forest and performed his rituals there. That night, he pondered deeply, seeking a way to defeat his cunning foe in battle. Yet, for a thousand divine years, the demon could not conquer the god. At last, the demon approached, clad in yellow garments, and spoke: “Today I am unable to conquer; tell me the reason for this.” The wise and excellent Brāhmaṇa, he was told, is to be honored by gods and demons alike, even in battle. How could a vow, once made, become untrue? Therefore, O Viṣṇu, he declared, “Before you, I shall perform bodily purification.” Having bathed his head, he stood, praising the eternal Brahman. Then came the counsel: “Go; you will conquer him through devotion, not by battle in any way.” By your grace, Indra has been conquered—what then of Dharmaja? It is not possible to stand against your favor, O unborn one; what can I do? He has undertaken austerity to establish righteousness.