Viśvāmitra, the great sage, turned to Rāma and said, “O Rāma, accept from me the radiant and shape-shifting sons of Kṛśāśva. You are worthy of them—may this bring you auspiciousness.” Rāma, his heart secretly delighted, replied, “Certainly.” At that very moment, the divine, luminous weapons, each with their own embodied forms, appeared before him, filling the air with joy. Some of these beings glowed like embers, others resembled curling smoke; some shone as brilliantly as the moon and sun, while others stood with hands joined in reverence. With sweet voices, these radiant forms addressed Rāma, their hands folded in respect: “We are here, O tiger among men. Command us—what would you have us do?” Rāma replied, “Go as you wish, but when the need arises, you shall assist me with your minds.” Accepting his words, the celestial weapons circumambulated Rāma, took their leave, and disappeared as they had come. Rāma, recognizing their significance, turned to the sage Viśvāmitra as they walked on, and spoke to him with gentle and respectful words. He asked, “What is that cluster of trees, dark as thunderclouds and shining near the mountain? My curiosity is great. It is beautiful to behold, teeming with deer and exceedingly charming, adorned by birds of many kinds whose calls are delightful. We have emerged, O foremost of sages, from the dense forest that thrilled us; this tells me how pleasant this region is. Tell me, revered one—whose hermitage is this, where those wicked, sinful slayers of Brahmins attacked you? To obstruct your sacrifice, those evil-minded ones came. What is the place where your sacred rites are performed?” Viśvāmitra then began to explain, “Hear now, O Rāma, the story of this holy place. Here, Viṣṇu, revered by the gods, spent many years and hundreds of ages. At that time, the sage Kaśyapa, radiant as fire, together with Aditi, shone with energy. The blessed sage, accompanied by the goddess, completed a divine vow for a thousand years and praised Madhusūdana, the bestower of boons. ‘By my well-performed austerity, I see you, the supreme person, the very embodiment and essence of austerity. In your body, O Lord, I see this entire world; you are without beginning and beyond description. I have taken refuge in you.’ Pleased, Hari addressed Kaśyapa, now freed from sin: ‘Choose a boon—may good come to you. You are dear to me and worthy of a boon.’ Hearing these words, Kaśyapa spoke: ‘Aditi, the gods, and I together ask this: O bestower of boons, supremely pleased, let this sage, sinless one, become my son, and also the son of Aditi. Become the younger brother of Indra, O slayer of asuras; you ought to assist the gods who are afflicted by sorrow.’” After telling this tale, Viśvāmitra and the princes moved on. The two brothers, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, approached the sage and said, “O venerable one, we wish to know at what time the night-roving demons must be guarded against. Tell us, so that we do not miss that moment.” The two sons of Kakutstha, eager and ready for battle, spoke thus, and all the sages, delighted, praised the princes. Viśvāmitra instructed them, “From today for six nights, you two Raghavas must stand guard. I have undertaken a vow and will observe silence.” Hearing these words, the illustrious princes, sleepless for six days and nights, faithfully protected the hermitage. The two mighty warriors, skilled archers, stood vigilant, ever ready, guarding the great sage Viśvāmitra. When the sixth day had passed and the critical time arrived, Rāma said to Lakṣmaṇa, “Be alert and attentive.” As Rāma spoke, eager and poised for battle, the altar blazed forth with the presence of teachers and priests. The sacrificial altar, adorned with darbha grass, ladles, vessels, and heaps of sacred flowers, shone brightly as Viśvāmitra and the officiating priests performed the rites. The sacrifice proceeded according to the prescribed mantras when suddenly a great and terrifying sound arose in the sky. Dark clouds gathered, as in the rainy season, and the two rākṣasas, using their magic, rushed forward. Mārīca and Subāhu, fierce as thunderclouds and accompanied by their followers, arrived and poured down torrents of blood. Seeing the altar drenched in this ghastly flood, Rāma swiftly rushed forward and saw the demons in the sky. As the two descended suddenly, the lotus-eyed prince turned to Lakṣmaṇa and said, “Look, Lakṣmaṇa, at these wicked rākṣasas, eaters of flesh, driven by the force of the mānava missile—just as clouds are scattered by the wind. I will do what must be done; yet I cannot bring myself to kill them outright.” Having spoken thus, swift Rāma readied his bow, prepared for the challenge ahead.