As the ominous signs of battle drew near, Rama spoke to Lakshmana with grave wisdom. “Lakshmana,” he said, “when warriors preparing for combat lose the luster from their faces, it is a sign that their end is approaching.” The air was filled with a terrible roar—the howling of the rākṣasas and the relentless beating of their drums, echoing through the forest, heralding the arrival of cruel and violent foes. Rama counseled Lakshmana further, “One who desires good must prepare for what is to come, wisely anticipating dangers before they arise.” With this, he instructed, “Take Vaidehī—Sītā—with you. Arm yourself with bow and arrows, and seek refuge in a cave on the mountain, one that is fortified and thickly wooded.” Rama’s resolve was firm. “I wish to face these enemies myself. Do not argue, my child. Go as I command you, without delay.” Though Lakshmana was brave and strong—capable of slaying these foes—Rama insisted, “I alone wish to destroy these night-wanderers.” Thus addressed, Lakshmana, together with Sītā, took up his weapons and sought shelter in the fortified cave as instructed. Once Lakshmana and Sītā had entered the cave, Rama readied himself for battle. “Now, let them come!” he declared, donning his armor. Adorned in shining armor, Rama appeared in the darkness like a great blazing fire. He raised his bow and took up his mighty arrows, standing resolute, the twang of his bowstring filling the quarters. At that moment, the gods, gandharvas, siddhas, and cāraṇas—great souls all—assembled, eager to witness the battle about to unfold. The great sages, foremost among the brahmarṣis, gathered together and spoke among themselves, their voices filled with concern and hope. “May there be welfare for cows, brāhmaṇas, and all the worlds! May Rāghava conquer the Paulastyas, the night-wanderers, in battle!” They spoke again, drawing comparisons, “Just as the wielder of the discus destroys the foremost asuras in battle.” Looking at one another, they wondered, “Fourteen thousand rākṣasas of terrible deeds, and Rama alone, righteous—how will this battle be?” As Rama stood at the forefront, blazing with energy, all beings were seized with fear. His form, tireless in deeds, became incomparable, resembling the great-souled Rudra when enraged. While the gods, Gandharvas, and Caranas discussed these events, a host of rākṣasas arose, their deep and terrifying roars filling the air. Clad in dreadful skins, bearing weapons and banners, they advanced in a tumultuous array. The night-demons assembled all around, uttering warrior shouts, advancing toward one another. They drew their bows, stretched them repeatedly, and yawned again and again; their voices, accompanied by the beating of drums, resounded through the forest. The noise was so great that wild beasts fled in terror, seeking silence, not looking back, as the mighty host of rākṣasas, swift as a torrent, advanced upon Rama. This host, bearing various weapons and as deep as the ocean, stood before Rama. Rama, expert in battle, cast his gaze everywhere, observing the army of Khara approaching. Stringing his formidable bow, Rama drew arrows from his quiver and summoned intense wrath for the destruction of the demons. Enraged, he became hard to behold, like the fire blazing forth at the end of an age. Seeing Rama’s radiance, even the forest deities trembled. His form, filled with wrath, appeared like Shiva wielding Pinaka, intent on destroying Daksha’s sacrifice. The rākṣasa army, with bows, ornaments, chariots, and armor shining like fire, looked at sunrise like a dark mass of clouds. Thus begins the twenty-fifth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. Khara, accompanied by his foremost warriors, came to the hermitage and saw Rama, angry, bow in hand—the slayer of enemies. Seeing Rama with his bow strung and raised, Khara roared and ordered his charioteer to drive toward him. By Khara’s command, the charioteer urged the horses forward to where Rama, mighty-armed, stood alone. As Khara advanced, all the night-dwellers—his ministers—surrounded him, making a great noise. Khara, standing in his chariot among the rākṣasas, appeared in their midst like the red planet Mars rising among the stars. Then Khara, with a thousand arrows, assailed Rama, whose strength was unmatched, roaring loudly in battle. All the enraged night-dwellers showered Rama, unconquerable and wielding a terrible bow, with weapons of every kind. The Rakshasas, intent on wrath, struck the valiant Rama with maces, iron spears, javelins, swords, and axes. Those of great size and strength, resembling masses of clouds, charged at Kakutstha with chariots and horses. Desiring to kill Rama, they advanced with elephants like mountain peaks, releasing showers of arrows at him. Surrounded on all sides by Rakshasas of fierce appearance, Rama was like a mountain lord enveloped by great clouds pouring down rain. Like the great god surrounded by hosts of attendants on festival days, Raghava received those weapons released by the Yatudhanas, standing alone against the multitude, unwavering and resolute.