As the fierce battle between Rāma and Khara unfolded, the sky itself seemed to vanish, filled with arrows that blazed like sparks of fire, as if a torrential rainstorm had swept away all space. Both warriors, Rāma and Khara, unleashed sharp arrows with such speed and force that the heavens became crowded with missiles, leaving not a single gap. The sun, obscured by the multitude of arrows, ceased to shine, for the two combatants fought with relentless fury, determined to destroy each other. Khara, standing upon his chariot, struck Rāma with a variety of deadly arrows—nalikas, narachas, and sharp-tipped vikarni—piercing him as an elephant is prodded with goads. All beings watched Khara, the rakshasa, bow in hand and surrounded on all sides, resembling Death himself holding a noose. Sizing up Rāma, the slayer of armies, Khara perceived him as weary, though Rāma, bold as a lion and moving with a lion’s stride, felt no fear, just as a lion does not fear a small creature. With his great chariot shining like the sun, Khara approached Rāma, much like a moth drawn to a flame. Demonstrating his skill, Khara cut Rāma’s bow and arrow at the grip in the heat of battle. In response, Rāma, enraged, seized seven arrows blazing like Indra’s thunderbolt and struck Khara in his vital points. After tormenting Rāma with a thousand arrows, Khara let out a thunderous roar. Rāma’s splendid armor, radiant as the sun, was struck by Khara’s arrows and fell to the earth. Despite being pierced and enraged, Rāma shone in battle like a smokeless fire. Ready for his foe’s end, Rāma prepared another great bow, stringing it with a deep, resonant sound. He took up the mighty Vaishnava bow, gifted by a great sage, and advanced toward Khara. With arrows golden-feathered and tightly bound, Rāma cut down Khara’s banner in battle. The beautiful golden banner, severed in many places, tumbled to the earth like the sun descending at the gods’ command. Khara, furious, pierced Rāma’s limbs with four arrows, striking his heart with precision as an elephant is struck with spears. Bloodied and angered by the many arrows, Rāma, best among archers, seized his bow and released six well-aimed arrows: one struck Khara’s head, two wounded his arms, and three crescent-shaped arrows pierced his chest. With another arrow, Rāma severed the yoke of Khara’s chariot; with four he struck the dappled horses; and with a sixth, he cut off the charioteer’s head. Rāma’s might was unmatched: with three arrows he broke the chariot’s three poles; with two he shattered the axle; and with the twelfth arrow, he struck Khara’s bow and its string. Cutting it apart with an arrow shining like a thunderbolt, Rāma, laughing as if in sport, pierced Khara in battle with a thirteenth arrow, equal in force to Indra’s weapon. Now, with his bow broken, his chariot destroyed, his horses and charioteer slain, Khara leapt to the ground, gripping a mace in his hand. Witnessing this heroic feat, the gods and great sages assembled in their aerial chariots, delighted and with joined palms, honored the mighty Rāma. As the next chapter began, Rāma, radiant and resolute, saw Khara standing weapon in hand, deprived of his chariot. He spoke first gently, then harshly, addressing the rakshasa: “You, who have stood in this great army crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, have committed a terrible deed, despised by all the worlds. You are a terror to beings, cruel, and a doer of evil. Even a lord of the three worlds cannot endure if he acts in such a way. “One who acts against the world, O night-wanderer, is swiftly destroyed by all, just as a wicked serpent is killed when it appears. He who, out of greed or desire, commits sins without understanding, meets his end joyfully, as a Brahmani rejoices at the fate of a snake-catcher. “Dwelling in the Daṇḍaka forest, you have slain ascetics devoted to righteousness. What fruit will you gain, O Rākṣasa, by killing these noble ones? Those who commit cruel and evil deeds, despised by the world, do not long retain their power, like trees whose roots have withered. “Surely, the doer of evil must receive the fruit of his actions, dreadful when the time comes, just as a tree bears its seasonal flowers. Soon, the result of evil deeds is obtained in this world, O night-wanderer, just as food mixed with poison brings its effect after being eaten. “For those who commit terrible sins, wishing harm to the world, I have been sent by the king to take your life, O night-wanderer. Today, the arrows released by me, adorned with gold, will pierce and tear you apart, like serpents bursting from an anthill. “Those righteous ones whom you have devoured in the Dandaka forest—today, slain in battle, you shall follow them along with your army. Let the great sages see you struck down by arrows—those whom you killed before, now dwelling in celestial abodes, and you cast into hell.” Thus, Rāma declared the fate of Khara, standing firm and righteous, ready to fulfill his duty and bring justice to the Daṇḍaka forest.