In the heart of the Daṇḍaka forest, the fierce battle between Rāma and Khara reached its climax. Khara, enraged by the loss of fourteen thousand rākṣasas at Rāma’s hands, declared with fury, “Today, by your destruction, I will wipe away their tears.” With that, his anger blazing, Khara hurled his mighty, best mace at Rāma. The weapon, shining like a thunderbolt, sped through the air, scorching trees and bushes to ashes in its path. Rāma saw the deadly mace rushing toward him like the noose of death. Calm and resolute, he shattered it in midair with a stream of arrows, breaking it into countless pieces. The broken mace crashed to the earth, pierced and defeated, like a serpent struck down by powerful spells and herbs. With the mace destroyed, Rāma, ever devoted to righteousness, smiled and spoke words heated with righteous indignation. “O vile rākṣasa, your strength is now fully revealed. You are weaker than I, yet you roar in vain. Your mace, pierced by my arrows, lies on the ground, and your boastful confidence is destroyed. What you claimed about wiping away the tears of the slain rākṣasas is nothing but falsehood. I will take your life, you base, deceitful rākṣasa, just as Garuḍa snatches the nectar. Today, the earth will drink your blood, foaming and bubbling, as my arrows tear your throat. Covered in dust, your arms fallen limp, you will sleep on the ground, embracing it as one would a beloved woman hard to attain. When you, defiler of rākṣasas, lie in deep sleep, these Daṇḍaka forests will become a refuge for those seeking shelter. When you are slain by my arrows at Janasthāna, the sages will roam the forest everywhere, free from fear. Today, the rākṣasīs, faces wet with tears, bereft of kin, miserable and afraid, will flee in terror. Today, your wives, of worthy families, will taste grief and be left without purpose. O cruel-natured, base-souled, constant thorn to the Brāhmaṇas, because of you, the sages offer oblations into the fire with suspicion and fear.” Rāma’s words, spoken with righteous anger, provoked Khara further. Khara rebuked him, his voice harsh and trembling with rage. “You are deeply arrogant and fearless even in danger; thus you speak what should and should not be spoken, unaware that you are in the grip of death. Those men ensnared by the noose of Time lose their senses and cannot distinguish what should or should not be done.” Having spoken, Khara, his brow furrowed and lips bitten in fury, searched for another weapon. He spotted a great śāla tree nearby, seized it with both arms, and, roaring loudly, uprooted it. With a mighty shout, “You are slain!” he hurled the tree at Rāma. Rāma, valiant and resolute, cut down the mass of arrows rushing toward him and summoned intense wrath to slay Khara in battle. Sweating, his eyes reddened by anger, Rāma pierced Khara with a thousand arrows. Frothy blood flowed from Khara, streaming like water from a mountain’s spring. Stricken and helpless, maddened by the scent of blood, Khara charged at Rāma once more. As the furious, blood-soaked rākṣasa rushed in, weapons ready, Rāma quickly stepped back two or three paces. Then, Rāma took up a blazing arrow, like a second Brahmā’s staff, to end Khara’s life. The arrow, a gift from the wise lord of the gods, Maghavan, was fitted to Rāma’s bow. With a thunderous sound, Rāma released it at Khara. The mighty arrow struck Khara in the chest as he drew his bow, burning him with its fiery power. Khara fell to the ground, consumed by the fire of the arrow, just as Andhaka was once destroyed by Rudra in the white forest. The rākṣasa’s fall was like that of Vṛtra by the thunderbolt, Namuci by the froth, or Bala struck down by Indra’s bolt. At that moment, the gods gathered with the celestial sages, sounding their drums and showering flowers everywhere in celebration. Fourteen thousand rākṣasas, masters of illusion and led by Khara and Dūṣaṇa, had been slain in that great battle. The gods exclaimed in wonder, “Oh, what a mighty deed by Rāma, who knows his true self! Oh, what strength, what firmness—truly, he appears like Viṣṇu.” Having spoken thus, the gods departed as they had come. Then, all the royal sages and great seers assembled, honoring Rāma with joy. Together with Agastya, they spoke, “For this purpose, the mighty Indra, slayer of Vritra, came to the sacred hermitage of Śarabhaṅga; you were brought to this land by the great sages through their means.” Thus, the forest was cleansed, and Rāma’s righteous strength shone forth, granting peace and safety to the sages and all who dwelled in Daṇḍaka.