Once again, the mountain range appeared transformed, as if cloaked in wings and trembling in fear of thunderbolts. The entire scene was like a dream-world or a city conjured by the imagination, overflowing with wonder and unreality. Suddenly, the ocean unleashed a formidable darkness-weapon, casting forth an impenetrable, blinding gloom. This darkness swelled and deepened, resembling the black belly of a thundercloud, and soon spread through the mountain gaps, fusing into a single, endless ocean of night. The mountains themselves seemed like fish swimming in this dark sea, while the stars sparkled like scattered jewels. The darkness grew even thicker, becoming an ocean of inky mud, a mass of lampblack so dense that even the passing of ages could not dispel it. All living beings felt as though they had fallen into a deep, lightless pit; everywhere, as if at the end of an age, all activities ceased, and stillness reigned in every direction. In this dire moment, Viduratha, foremost among those skilled in weaponry and empowered by potent mantras, invoked the solar missile within the cosmic dome. Like the sun Agastya rising in the clear autumn sky, his missile’s radiance drank up the dark ocean, dispelling the gloom with pure, golden light. Freed from the garment of darkness, the directions shone forth in spotless clarity, resplendent like lovely women adorned before a king. The rows of forests became visible again, clear as the minds of the virtuous when freed from the darkness of greed. Yet the ocean, now agitated with anger, launched a new assault, releasing the terrifying demon-missile composed of mantra-born arrows. From every direction, fierce forest-demons surged forth in wrath, like great oceans churned by the roar of the underworld elephant. Their tawny, upraised matted hair smoked as fires crackled and snapped, their tongues of flame licking fiercely, as if fed with moist fuel. Circling in the sky, they produced dreadful, drum-like sounds, vast as blazing meteors trailing plumes of smoke. These demon-forms, with lotus-like faces seized by sprouting fangs, rose up like tangled locks of hair ablaze, bursting forth from every pore. Devouring and rushing, roaring with threatening intent, they were like storm clouds ignited by lightning flashes from their wild hair. At this critical moment, Viduratha, lord of play, invoked the Narayana weapon, the supreme ward against evil spirits. As this mighty weapon was released, the hosts of demons vanished instantly, just as darkness flees before the sunrise. The demonic army was swept away, and the three worlds became clear and pure, like the sky after the autumn clouds have departed. But Sindhu, undeterred, released the fiery weapon, which blazed across the heavens. The quarters of the sky burned as if consumed by the fire of dissolution. All directions were shrouded in masses of smoke and thick clouds, as if both sky and netherworld were filled with darkness. The mountains gleamed with blazing forms, radiant as if made of gold, resembling gardens bursting with champaka flowers. The groves of sky, mountain, and horizon were tangled with masses of flame, as if blood had been spilled in a festival of death, colored with saffron. The people, terrified even by the touch of nearby light, burned as if the oceans themselves were twisted by the flute of the thousand-formed one. Then, as one strikes again after defeating an enemy, Viduratha worshipped Varuna and released his water-weapon. Immediately, floods of water surged from all sides like masses of darkness, and the mountains themselves seemed to flow up and down, as if liquefied by the deluge. These floods were like fragments of the autumn sky, like swiftly falling clouds, or like great oceans standing tall, or even like the rocks of mountain ranges. They rose like masses of tamala trees, gathered like nights, stirred up like heaps of soot, or like the very boundary of Lokāloka. They resembled the winding caves of the netherworld, eager to see the sky, and their forms resounded with the roaring of great thunder. This mass of water, like a creeper amidst blazing heat, swiftly pervaded the worlds at twilight, just as night swiftly follows day. Absorbing the fiery mass, the water filled the earth, and this ever-flowing body of water, having lost its liquidity, became manifest and solid. Thus, these mutually opposed weapons of illusion, born of maya, appeared and confronted each other in succession. The burden of weapons and the protection of the chariot-wheels were swept away by the waters like blades of grass, and Sindhu’s chariot floated helplessly. At that moment, Sindhu remembered the weapon of drying up, a means of rescue in calamity, and invoked it as an arrow. By the power of this radiant weapon, the watery illusion ceased, just as night gives way to dawn; the dead remained dead, and the earth was dried up once more. Then, in a surge of foolish anger, an equal and opposite heat arose, tormenting the people and spreading harshly, like an old, withered forest consumed by fire. The directions shone with the luster of beautiful limbs, dripping with molten gold, as if adorned by the ornaments of royal women. Those who opposed this heat fell into a stupor, like tender leaves scorched by the summer forest fire. Viduratha, his mind resounding with the twang of the bowstring, bent his bow into a circle and invoked the rain-cloud weapon. Rows of clouds gathered, amassing like nights come together, sluggish in their advance, as if stirred by the agitation of tamala groves. These clouds moved about, swollen with water, roaring tumultuously, their circular forms encircling all directions, heavy with the remnants of mist.