The army faced the lone warrior, Rama. Khara asked his charioteer to drive him up to his opponent and shot at him a thousand arrows. Khara in his arrogance was unaware that it was the beginning of his end! Riding elephants, horses and chariots, the demonic army rained deadly weapons on Rama. Like a mighty mountain that refuses to be battered by earthly missiles Rama withstood the onslaught. Though blood smeared, he continued to glow like the Sun veiled in a mist even as the celestials grew sad and anxious at the sight. For the rakshasas the initial pleasure of attacking Rama soon vanished as his incredible fury unleashed a terrible devastation. Volleys of arrows kept flying from his bow as each unerringly found and killed its target. Piercing them, the blood stained arrows flew through the air like flaming torches. Mighty weapons wielded at Rama disintegrated in mid-air, as horses, elephants, demons and chariots, were hacked and strewn around. The heads, shoulders and thighs of the enemy lay shattered and their mighty weapons were reduced to rubble. Confused and frightened, those that still survived ran to Khara for protection. Enraged at the massacre, Khara charged at Rama and his soldiers ran after him, with their make-do weapons that even included Sala and Palm trees. The battle was fearful, its violence bone chilling and Rama's barrage of arrows obstructed the very path of the Sun. Bodies bleeding, broken, dying or dead fell to the ground every moment in great piles. The blood bath left the living stunned and the dead as symbols of Rama's might. An enchanting sylvan retreat was transformed into a land of anguish and death.