From the heart of the battlefield, warriors surged forth, eager for the prize of victory. Amidst their emergence, the demons, yakṣas, and hosts of piśācas rejoiced, delighted at the spectacle before them. They plundered the flesh of the fallen, leapt about in wild frenzy, and roared at one another, their cries echoed by the birds that flocked to the carnage. Many, scorched by weapons, fell to the earth, and the field of battle became as dreadful as a cremation ground. The conflict, staked on life itself, shone fiercely. Pairs of warriors faced each other, skilled both in weapons and the art of dice, their bellies lean from hardship and struggle. Then, with fierce brilliance, the lord of the gods, Śatakratu—Indra—appeared, mounted upon a maddened elephant. Across the field, Prahlāda, renowned among the Daityas, stood ready upon a chariot yoked with eight horses, his weapons uplifted. As the battle intensified, Śambara approached Vāyu, while Maya engaged Agni, each seeking their adversary among the gods. Agni, Sūrya, Vāyu, and the lords of the planets encountered their mighty opponents in single combat. Thousands of iron arrows were released, the warriors shouting, "Go! Stop! Why do you stand?" Amidst this chaos, they set in motion a river, terrifying and swift, flowing with the force of the Mandakini. This river, swelling the strength of the demons and spirits, was dreadful to cross for those who sought escape, for it flowed with blood. Amidst the carnage, the foremost hosts of Apsarases led away the fallen heroes, those who had met death bravely in battle. The thousand-eyed Indra took up his great bow and released arrows, hurling them at Purandara, who was clad in peacock feathers. Both struck each other with swift arrows tipped with gold. Indra then aimed at the king of the Daityas, and Andhaka saw him thus. Indra reduced his foes to ashes, as fire consumes mountains. Leaping from his chariot, Indra stood firm on the ground, his arms strong and surrounded by allies. Having turned his enemies to ashes, he approached Andhaka, wielding his thunderbolt. The mighty Andhaka struck down his foes and roared loudly, raining blows upon them, driving them back, and advancing toward Śatakratu. He struck down the lord of elephants, shattering him with powerful blows. Taking his thunderbolt in hand, Indra entered Amaravati and struck down his enemies with his foot, his fist, and other mighty blows. The best of the gods rushed at Prahlāda, desiring to kill him. The swift son of Hiranyakashipu, with his bow bent, stood ready to face them. Having shattered the bow, he hurled a staff, terrifying to all the worlds. Prahlāda blazed like the fire of destruction, as if to burn the three worlds. In distress, the warriors cried out, "Alas, Prahlāda has been struck down by Yama!" But Prahlāda reassured them, saying, "Do not be afraid; while I am here, who is this vile enemy of the gods?" He roared a mighty roar, like a thundercloud in the rainy season. The chiefs of the Daityas and Dānavas, delighted, cried out in approval. Yama, considering Prahlāda's power unbearable and impossible to withstand, vanished from sight. Prahlāda, mighty and resolute, began to tear apart the army of the gods on every side. With his mace, he struck fiercely, and Virocana came against him. He struck the lord of waters with clubs and even with stones. Rushing forward, the strong one bound the maddened elephant with nooses. As he approached Varuṇa, Nārada seized him amidst the fray. Prahlāda trampled the lords of the waters and their mounts with his feet, the battle raging on with relentless fury.