Jambumālī and Mahāmālī, swift and fierce as thunderbolts, stood among the foremost of the rākṣasas. With them were Suptaghna, Yajñakopa, and the formidable Vajradaṃṣṭra. Then came Saṃhrādī, Vikaṭa, Arighna, Tapana, and Manda, alongside Praghāsa, Praghasa, Prajaṅgha, and Jaṅgha. The ranks of the rākṣasas swelled further with Agniketu—hard to subdue—Raśmiketu, mighty in strength, Vidyujjihva, Dvijihva, and Sūryaśatru. Akampana, Supārśva, and Cakramālī, too, took their places, as did Kampana, and the valiant Devāntaka and Narāntaka. Having slain these many mighty and renowned rākṣasas, the monkey warriors were urged onward: "Cross the ocean with your arms as if it were merely a hoof-print—such is your strength!" Now, only one great challenge remained. All the rākṣasas, proud and powerful, had gathered and fallen; only the unconquered foe was left. Vibhīṣaṇa, Rāvaṇa’s noble brother, spoke to the monkeys: “It is not right for me, as his uncle, to bring about the death of my brother’s son. Yet, setting aside all pity for the sake of Rāma, I could slay my brother’s child. But as I desire to kill him, tears well up and cloud my sight. Lakṣmaṇa, mighty-armed, will bring him down. O monkeys, strike together and attack his nearby attendants!” Thus, at Vibhīṣaṇa’s command, the monkey army surged forward. The monkey chiefs rejoiced, flicking their tails in delight. The tiger-like monkeys roared again and again, their cries echoing like thunderous clouds when peacocks dance with joy. Jāmbavān, the lord of bears, surrounded by his own troops, struck the rākṣasas with stones, claws, and teeth. Yet the rākṣasas, abandoning all fear, encircled Jāmbavān as he tore through their ranks, each wielding a variety of terrible weapons. A tumultuous clash arose, resounding like the fierce, thunderous battles of gods and demons of old. The rākṣasas hurled sharp arrows, axes, spears, and iron clubs at Jāmbavān, who destroyed their army with unyielding might. In the midst of this chaos, Hanumān, enraged, uprooted a great śāla tree from the mountain. With immense resolve, he gently set Lakṣmaṇa down from his own back and leapt into the fray. Hanumān wrought a slaughter among the rākṣasas by the thousands, giving fierce battle to Indrajit, the son of Rāvaṇa—his own uncle’s child. Lakṣmaṇa, destroyer of enemy heroes, charged forward once more. The two warriors—Lakṣmaṇa and Indrajit—engaged in a furious duel. They showered each other with torrents of arrows, so dense that their mighty forms were hidden from view. Like the moon and sun veiled by clouds at dusk, neither the drawing, stringing, nor grasping of their bows could be seen. The speed of their hands and the ceaseless volley of arrows concealed every movement: no release, no drawing, no aiming was visible. As they fought even in the sky, their forms became invisible—Lakṣmaṇa reaching Indrajit and Indrajit reaching Lakṣmaṇa. A fierce confusion reigned as the two clashed, the tumult intensifying with their swift, sharp arrows. The sky itself was darkened by hundreds of arrows falling from both sides, shrouding all directions in darkness and terror. When the thousand-rayed sun had set and night spread its veil, torrents of blood, like great rivers, began to flow in thousands. Fierce flesh-eaters uttered dreadful cries with terrifying voices; the wind ceased to blow, and fire did not burn. The great sages murmured, “May there be well-being for the worlds,” while distressed Gandharvas and Cāraṇas gathered to witness the battle. Then Lakṣmaṇa, son of Sumitrā, struck with four arrows the four black, gold-adorned horses of the lion-like rākṣasa. With another arrow—yellow, sharp, and radiant like Indra’s thunderbolt—he struck as the charioteer moved about. That arrow, flashing and swift, accompanied by the sound of its impact, severed the head from the charioteer’s body. Thus was the mighty son of Mandodarī slain. Indrajit, undaunted, took up the reins himself and again reached for his bow. This act of charioteering, performed amid battle, was wondrous to behold. Lakṣmaṇa swiftly struck him, whose hands were busy with the horses, with sharp arrows. As Indrajit returned to his bow, Lakṣmaṇa loosed more arrows at the horses. Saumitri, swift and skilled, harassed Indrajit in battle, showering him with arrows as he moved fearlessly among the gaps. Seeing his charioteer slain, Rāvaṇa’s son lost his enthusiasm for combat and became dejected. Observing the rākṣasa’s downcast face, the monkey chiefs rejoiced exceedingly and honored Lakṣmaṇa. Then, Pramāthī, Rabhasa, Śarabha, and Gandhamādana—four monkey lords of immense strength and terrifying valor—could not endure the sight. They rushed forward with great speed, leaping onto the foremost horses. With these mountain-like monkeys mounted upon them, blood visibly flowed from the mouths of the horses, a testament to the fierce and unrelenting might of the vanara warriors.