Though he searched tirelessly across the three worlds, he could find no trace of the gods. Despite his utmost efforts, he encountered only the virtuous—just as one might find the wicked—while the gods themselves remained hidden from his sight. Determined, Śambara wielded his power of illusion and conjured forth three formidable and terrifying demons. These beings, immense in might, rose up as guardians of strength, standing as living embodiments of time itself. Their forms, shaped by illusion, were awe-inspiring: their arms stretched wide like the branches of wish-fulfilling trees, their colossal bodies towering like mountains stirred by powerful wings. Each demon bore a distinct name: Dama, Vyala, and Kata. Marked by these names, they acted as opportunity allowed, their only nature being pure consciousness. Lacking any impressions from previous actions, they were free from latent tendencies; their activity was but the spontaneous vibration of pure awareness, untouched by any distinctions. Within them lay only the subtle seed of action—a mere thought, unfortified and artificial in nature—by which they came into being. Their deeds unfolded one after another, like the chance meeting of a crow and a palm fruit, following only the natural course of action, having abandoned all lingering tendencies. Just as half-asleep children move only their own limbs, so too did these demons act, without identification with past impressions or ego. They knew nothing of falling or being struck down, of flight or pursuit, nor of life or death, battle, victory, or defeat. Simply seeing the soldiers arrayed before them, ready to strike, they would charge into battle, shattering their foes as mountains are split by mighty blows. Śambara, greatly pleased within his city, thought to himself, “Indeed, my army, protected by the demon of illusion, will triumph. For these enemies are stripped of desires and aversions; in battle, they neither fear nor flee, nor do they stand their ground. When they do not flee even when struck by the gods, then truly my forces, endowed with extraordinary strength, stand firm. Guarded by the mighty demon Atibalā, my troops will surely remain unshaken, just as the golden earth of the celestial mountain endures, unmoved by the tusks of the strongest heavenly elephants.” From the ocean caves, mountain ravines, and the peaks of the celestial mountain, the demons surged forth, their terrifying roars echoing as they seemed to lift winged mountains in sport. Their bodies, torn by the blows of celestial serpents, began to fill the sky, even striking down the sun with their hands. Overwhelmed by terror, the hosts of heaven-dwellers fled from their groves, caves, and the mountain of the gods, as if at the end of a cosmic dissolution. Between the leaders of the gods and demons, a dreadful battle arose in another realm, as tumultuous as the chaos at the world’s end. Heads fell from the heavens as if the moon and sun themselves had been cast down by the force of dissolution, their flesh darkened by the brilliance of shattered earrings. Warriors staggered and roared, their cries mingling with the thunder of lion-shouts, like mountains laughing in the gusts of the wind of destruction. The slopes of noble mountains quaked; their golden peaks, confused and frightened, were battered by weapons as forceful as the mountains’ own rocky mass. Sparks of fire, born from the clash of weapons, scattered like stars shattered at the close of an age. On the riverbanks, now swollen with waves of blood and flesh, tall and slender ghosts—like palm trees at the world’s end—sang in eerie chorus. In the sky, amid clouds stilled by showers of blood and dust, the tips of shattered crowns and earrings, struck by weapons, flashed forth. The directions became impenetrable as the mountain-king was shattered by the blows of demons whose arms resembled wish-fulfilling trees and whose forms blazed with the radiance of the sun. Mountains, their slopes split open by the strikes of blazing swords, seemed reduced to heaps of fragments, as if consumed by the fires of dissolution. The gods, gathering their brilliance as if kindled by the fire of a horse sacrifice, pursued the demons like winds chasing away clouds. Overpowering their foes, the gods seized the demons as wildcats snatch decrepit rats; gods and demons alike shone in the sky, resembling blossoming forests swaying on mountain peaks. The ten directions were filled with volleys of weapons, just as winds fill the forests of Mount Meru with masses of flowers. A terrible battle raged between the armies of gods and demons, like swarms of giant mosquitoes clashing within the hollows of fig trees. The guardians of the worlds raised their lofty standards, and a dreadful roar of battle swelled, filling the sky like clouds at the end of an age. Amid the heavens, a massive, dense cloud appeared, as if seizing a portion of the earth, swollen like the belly of a mountain churned by mighty fists. The clash of weapons and mountains, crushed at the first assault, resounded with a harsh and dreadful roar, as if wrung from hearts shattered and emptied of life. The tumult grew, swelling like the thunderclouds of doomsday, spreading across the sky and shining like molten gold struck by the radiance of twelve suns combined. From the collision with the walls of the universe, the mass recoiled and fell earthward, like a mighty flood breaking through a dam and surging into a mine. The uproar roared with the force of winds beating against winged mountains, echoing through the shattered caves of those overflowing peaks. It was as if the milk ocean itself were being churned by Mount Mandara, shaking the world; islands and their creatures were struck, reverberating with booming and crashing sounds. Between the two enraged armies, a furious and demonic battle arose, crushing cities, villages, mountains, forests, and men alike. The directions filled with mountains and demons, cut down by hundreds of great weapons; the sky was thick with dust from weapons and rocks, shattered by mutual blows. The clash of missile-circles shattered hundreds of Mount Meru’s peaks, and the wind of arrows swept away demons, gods, asuras, and even lotuses, carrying all before it in the chaos of battle.