At times, the mighty demon king Mahisha stood his ground and fought valiantly against the goddess, while at other moments he turned in flight, only to return once more to the fray, and then withdraw yet again. For ten thousand divine years, this fierce battle raged between Mahisha and the goddess, spanning the entire battlefield as the demon, his heart filled with dread, wandered restlessly. At last, after this prolonged struggle, on the great mountain crowned with a hundred peaks, the goddess pressed Mahisha down with her feet and struck him with her trident. There, upon that sacred summit, she severed his head with her sword, and as his spirit was pierced by her divine weapons, it departed his body and ascended to heaven. Witnessing the fall of Mahisha, all the hosts of gods, joined by Brahma himself, rejoiced and praised the goddess with hearts full of gladness. They offered their salutations, saying, “Homage to you, O goddess—great in fortune, profound, and fearsome in form; ever victorious, established in the very principle of existence, three-eyed, and gazing in all directions. In knowledge and ignorance, in victory and sacrifice, O slayer of Mahishasura, you are all-pervading, goddess of all gods, of universal form, O Vaishnavi. Free from sorrow, steadfast, your eyes are as beautiful as lotus petals; you are established in pure sattva and sacred vows, fierce in form and radiant. “O goddess, you bestow prosperity and accomplishment, knowledge and ignorance, immortality and auspiciousness. You are Shankari, Vaishnavi, Brahmi, honored by all the gods. With a bell in your hand and the trident as your weapon, you are the great slayer of the buffalo demon; fierce in form, with distorted eyes, supreme enchantress, and source of immortality. Benefactor of all beings, you embody all creatures and remain steadfast; mother of knowledge, scriptures, and the arts, bearer of all elements. O auspicious one, knower of all divine secrets, incarnate among all beings, you alone are our refuge—goddess of knowledge and ignorance, fortune, O Ambika; with distorted eyes, patient, yet agitated in the cosmic waters, unmanifest. “Salutations to you, great goddess; salutations to you, supreme ruler; salutations to you, eternal, imperishable, and unchanging among all the gods. Those who seek refuge in you, O goddess supreme, find nothing inauspicious befalling them, even in the dangers of battle. Whoever, in the terrible fear of tigers or the threat of bandit kings, always recites this hymn to you with self-control, O goddess—even a person bound in chains, who remembers you, is freed from bondage and lives happily, content.” Śrī Varāha then said: Thus, praised with such reverence by the gods, the beautiful-hipped goddess spoke to them, “Choose the highest boon.” The gods replied, “O sinless goddess, grant us this boon: that whoever recites this hymn of yours, you will fulfill all their desires.” The supreme goddess agreed, saying, “So be it,” and then dismissed the gods, remaining there herself. Whoever knows this second birth of the goddess upon earth becomes free from sorrow, pure, and attains a state without affliction. Śrī Varāha continued: Now hear, O Earth, of the goddess who went to Nilagiri, steadfast in asceticism, fierce, and born of darkness. She performed severe austerities for a long time, sustaining the entire world, and accomplished the radiant five-fire practice. At another time, while the goddess was immersed in supreme austerity, there arose an asura named Ruru, of great brilliance, who had received a boon from Brahma. In the midst of the ocean stood a city rich in jewels and surrounded by a great forest. There, Ruru, terror of all the gods, ruled as king, accompanied by countless hundreds of thousands, tens of millions, and hundreds of millions of asuras—glorious as a second Namuci. In due course, surrounded by his vast army, Ruru set his sights on conquering the ancient cities of the guardians of the worlds, casting fear among the gods. As the great asura rose up, the ocean’s waters swelled immensely, flooding the mountain slopes and teeming with countless crocodiles, sharks, and fish. From within the waters, a vast and formidable army emerged—splendid and adorned with diverse armor and weapons, filled with many groups of enemies of the gods, mighty and skilled in battle. Islands filled with the foremost daityas, bedecked with masses of bells and terrifying in their own forms, came forth on all sides, displaying themselves with thunderous noise. Horses, adorned with golden ornaments and gleaming like red fish in the water, stood ready and swiftly emerged in hundreds of thousands and millions. Chariots, swift as the sun’s own, equipped with fine wheels, poles, and triple yokes, well-armed and crowded with warriors, their flags fluttering, moved rapidly without hesitation. The asura warriors, closely arrayed and eager to cross over, foremost and swift-handed, victorious in battle after battle, shone as followers of the asuras. When the gods were defeated, that army—equipped with the fourfold forces—emerged from the water and advanced toward the city of Indra. The lord of the daityas, Ruru, fought alongside his heroes, wielding maces, clubs, spears, arrows, and staff-weapons; the daityas struck the gods in battle, and the gods struck back at the asuras. But after only a moment of fierce fighting, the gods, along with Indra, were suddenly overwhelmed, defeated, and fled in great disarray. As the gods were broken and scattered, the mighty asura pursued them relentlessly. Fleeing in terror and overwhelmed by fear, all the hosts of gods made their way to the great blue mountain where the goddess was present. There, the goddess—devoted to austerities, fierce, and of supreme power, known as Kalaratri, the destroyer—beheld the gods, terrified and bewildered by fear. With a loud voice, the goddess consoled those best of gods, saying, “Do not be afraid.” She asked them, “Why are you so troubled, O gods? What danger do you see? Quickly tell me, O gods, the cause of your fear.