Ravana’s ministers—Prahasta, Shuka, and Sarana—were consumed with fury. Their very presence was so fierce and radiant that it seemed to set Kartavirya’s army ablaze, their brilliance burning through the ranks of their foes. News of this devastating act swiftly reached Arjuna, the mighty king, who was at that moment enjoying himself in play, guarded at the gates by vigilant sentinels. As the guards relayed what had happened, they assured him, “Do not be afraid.” With calm yet swift resolve, Arjuna emerged from the waters, his form dark and lustrous like black ointment rising from the sacred Ganga. But his eyes now blazed with anger, radiating a terrifying heat, as if he were fire itself at the end of the age. Without hesitation, he seized his colossal mace, decked with golden armlets, and charged forward, his approach as swift and dazzling as the sun banishing the night’s darkness. Arjuna’s movements were like those of Garuda, the mighty king of birds, as he raised his massive mace and descended upon the Rakshasas with the speed of a swooping predator. Yet, standing in his path, unyielding as the Vindhya mountain before the rising sun, was Prahasta, armed with his own immense mace, resolute and immovable. Furious, Prahasta hurled his dreadful weapon. Bound in iron and vast in size, it roared through the air like a thundercloud. At its head blazed a fire, bright as the crest of an ashoka tree, threatening to burn all in its path. But Arjuna, descendant of Kartavirya, moved with skill and agility, evading the deadly missile and wielding his own mace with unmatched mastery. With a mighty whirl, Arjuna rushed at Prahasta, his mace seeming to possess a hundred arms with its power and reach. The blow landed with incredible force, and Prahasta fell, struck down like a mountain shattered by Indra’s thunderbolt. Witnessing their champion’s fall, Marica, Shuka, Sarana, Mahodara, and Dhumraksha lost heart and fled the battlefield. Now, with Prahasta slain and his ministers scattered, Ravana himself surged forth in wrath, confronting Arjuna, the foremost of kings. Thus began a fierce and thrilling battle between Ravana, with his thousand arms, and Arjuna, with his twenty—an epic contest that held all who witnessed it in awe. They clashed like two raging oceans, like the roots of great trees shaken by a storm, like two radiant suns or blazing fires meeting in the sky. Their struggle was that of two mighty elephants in rut, two bulls vying for supremacy, two roaring clouds, or two lions battling for the kingship of the forest. Like Rudra and Kala in their wrath, Arjuna and Ravana struck each other with their maces, each blow echoing like thunder throughout the heavens. Neither man nor rakshasa gave ground. Arjuna’s mace, hurled at Ravana’s chest, flashed with a golden brilliance across the sky, like lightning itself. Ravana’s own mace, hurled again and again at Arjuna, shone like a blazing meteor striking the face of a great mountain. Tirelessly they fought, their combat reminiscent of the ancient mighty ones, striking each other repeatedly like bulls with their horns or elephants with their tusks. At last, Arjuna, his rage at its peak, summoned all his strength and hurled his mighty mace at Ravana’s chest. The weapon struck with tremendous force, but Ravana, protected by a boon, withstood the blow. The mace, as if weakened by some hidden power, split in two and fell to the ground. Staggered by the impact, Ravana retreated the span of a bow and sat down, groaning in pain. Seeing Ravana dazed and vulnerable, Arjuna leapt upon him with the swiftness of Garuda seizing a serpent. With his thousand arms, the powerful king bound the ten-headed Ravana as Narayana once bound the mighty Bali. As the binding took place, the Siddhas, Charanas, and gods themselves praised Arjuna, showering flowers upon his head in celebration. Like a tiger seizing a deer, or the lord of beasts capturing an elephant, Arjuna roared in triumph, his voice echoing like thunderclouds across the land. But Prahasta, recovering his courage at the sight of Ravana’s capture, rallied the Rakshasas and rushed once more at Arjuna in a furious charge. Their advance was as brilliant and swift as rain clouds rising after the sun’s heat has passed. They shouted wildly, “Release! Release!” and “Stop! Stop!” hurling maces and spears at Arjuna. Yet Arjuna stood undisturbed, catching their weapons before they could reach him and seizing his enemies by their arms. With those very weapons, he struck and scattered the Rakshasas, as the wind scatters thunderclouds. Having terrified the Rakshasas, Kartavirya Arjuna took Ravana and, surrounded by his friends, entered the city. Brahmins and citizens showered him with heaps of flowers and rice, welcoming him as Indra himself might be welcomed after subduing his foes. Arjuna entered the city in triumph, resembling the thousand-eyed god in his victory. The capture of Ravana was as incredible as capturing the very wind. News of this astonishing event reached the heavens, where the gods spoke in wonder. Hearing their words, the great sage Pulastya, trembling with both affection for his son and steadfast resolve, descended to the city of Mahishmati to see Kartavirya Arjuna, the lord who had accomplished this extraordinary feat.