The demon snarled in its rage and pain, its mounting rage only becoming more black, more filled with hatred, with every moment. Its weapons sliced the air with furious yet blind power, the attacks lethal if only they had been given something to hit.

But finally it stopped giving voice to its fury, and when it did it heard its prey. It would not go hungry, it would not let another meal escape, it would not let a blasphemer and an ancient foe think that they could escape its holy fangs!

As the ice began to melt, once more the demon raised its hand to the heavens. This time, the heavenly light which emanated from its outstretched fingers bathed only Indra, and before their very eyes the wounds that Indra had suffered began to knit closed, to mend in mere moments. And once it was healed, it would regain its power by consuming those who had opposed it...