The battle raged fiercely as Rāma’s arrows pierced the vital points of the rākṣasa army, offering them no comfort—just as a dry forest finds no relief from fire. In their extreme rage, the mighty and heroic night-dwellers hurled spears, lances, and axes at Rāma, determined to overwhelm him. Yet Rāma, whose arms were strong and whose valor was unmatched, blocked their weapons with his own arrows. In the heat of battle, he took the lives of those who opposed him, severing their heads and necks with unerring precision. The battlefield became littered with the fallen: warriors with severed heads, broken shields, and shattered bows lay scattered across the earth, tossed about like trees felled by the wind. Those who survived, wounded and disheartened, fled to Khara, seeking refuge from the relentless assault. But Dūṣaṇa, resolute and mighty-armed, took up his bow and rallied the rākṣasas, urging them forward with great fury. He charged ahead like Death himself, enraged. Bolstered by Dūṣaṇa’s support, the rākṣasas regained their courage. Fearless once more, they turned back and rushed at Rāma, wielding sala and tāla trees, stones, and all manner of weapons. With spears and maces, ropes in hand, and their strength renewed, they unleashed showers of arrows and weapons upon Rāma. The rākṣasas hurled torrents of trees and stones, making the battle wondrous, tumultuous, and hair-raising. Once again, the rākṣasas fiercely attacked Rāma from all sides, and the confrontation grew exceedingly terrible. All directions and regions seemed filled with rākṣasas, arrows raining down everywhere, surrounding Rāma completely. In that moment, the mighty Rāma made a terrifying sound and invoked a radiant weapon—the Gandharva missile—against his foes. From the curve of Rāma’s bow, thousands of arrows emerged, filling all ten directions as they converged upon the enemy. The rākṣasas watched in horror as Rāma drew, released, and wielded dreadful arrows and excellent shafts. The sky itself grew dark with arrows, obscuring even the sun, as Rāma stood, casting his weapons with unmatched skill. All at once, many rākṣasas fell, slain, and the earth became strewn with their bodies. Everywhere, the fallen lay—slain, exhausted, severed, shattered, and torn apart by Rāma’s arrows. Turbans and heads, bracelets and arms, thighs and limbs adorned with various ornaments were scattered in many forms across the battlefield. Horses, noble elephants, and chariots lay shattered, along with yak-tail fans, parasols, and banners of every kind. Rāma’s arrows struck down the rākṣasas, severing spears and pikes, breaking swords, scattering javelins and axes. Rocks were crushed to powder, and the earth became vast and terrifying, strewn with remarkable arrows and broken weapons. Seeing their comrades slain, the remaining rākṣasas were greatly distressed and unable to move against Rāma, the conqueror of enemy cities. Now begins the twenty-sixth sarga. Dūṣaṇa, witnessing his army’s destruction, summoned the fierce and formidable warriors. He commanded five thousand rākṣasas, who never turned away in battle, to attack Rāma with spears, pikes, swords, showers of rocks, and trees. From all sides, they rained an unbroken shower of arrows upon him, accompanied by a life-taking cascade of trees and rocks. Rāghava, righteous-souled, met this onslaught with sharp arrows, standing firm like a bull closing its eyes against the storm. Angered by the destruction of the rākṣasas, Rāma blazed with wrath and radiant energy. He covered the army, along with Dūṣaṇa, with arrows from all sides. Enraged, Dūṣaṇa, the destroyer of foes, blocked Rāghava’s arrows with those like thunderbolts. But Rāma, greatly enraged, took up a razor-headed arrow and cut down Dūṣaṇa’s great bow in the midst of battle. With four arrows, he struck down the four horses of Dūṣaṇa’s chariot. Then, with sharp arrows, he killed the horses, and with a crescent-headed arrow, he severed the charioteer’s head. With three arrows, he pierced the chest of Dūṣaṇa. Deprived of his bow, chariot, horses, and charioteer, Dūṣaṇa seized a terrifying iron club, wrapped with golden bands and resembling a mountain peak—a weapon capable of crushing the armies of the gods. Studded with sharp iron spikes, smeared with blood and fat, its touch was like thunderbolts and lightning, able to shatter enemy fortresses. Grasping the club, which resembled a great serpent, Dūṣaṇa, the night-stalker of cruel deeds, rushed at Rāma in battle. As he charged, Rāghava cut off his two arms, adorned with ornaments, with two arrows. Deprived of his arms and his iron club, that great-bodied one fell upon the battlefield, like Indra’s banner cast down before him. Dūṣaṇa, his arms shattered, collapsed to the ground like a mighty elephant whose tusks have been broken. Seeing Dūṣaṇa fallen and slain in battle, all beings honored Kakutstha, exclaiming, “Well done! Well done!” At that moment, three furious leaders of the army, as if bound by the noose of death, joined forces and rushed at Rāma.