"I do."

My voice seemed to echo through the bright church. My hands were held gently in Berwald's own callused ones; our fingers were like sandpaper grinding against itself, but to each other, it didn't matter how rough our skin was; merely the fact that we were touching.

I carefully slid a simple golden ring onto the ring finger on Berwald's left hand, feeling my heart flutter at the

"Berwald Oxenstierna, do you take this man, Mathias Køhler to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I d'."

I grinned as the Swede took a ring in his hand, and gently slid it onto my ring finger on my left hand. The marriage officiator standing beside us smiled and said the words I had been waiting for.

"And now, you may kiss your husband."

Berwald and I leaned in and gently pressed our lips together; cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd gathered, causing both my new husband and I to grin and our cheeks to redden.

We hooked arms and walked down the isle, smiling. This was a spectacle to media; more than a few cameras filmed the entire wedding. Not that I cared; being a gay man, and a successful MMA fighter, was hard to do. I proved that no matter my sexual orientation, I was still able to be stronger both physically and mentally than the average man.

Outside of the church awaited a limo, which Berwald and I got into, still beaming at each other. We sat down, and as the limo began to drive down the street towards the destination of the reception, we conversed.

"I don't think my life can get much better." I stated, placing a light kiss on the older man's cheek. He chuckled and fixed his glasses.

"I don't think m' life can either, Mathias… I'm s' glad I can call y' m' husband now…" The Swede replied, sniffling slightly. I chuckled and placed my hand on his cheek.

"You crying, Berwald?" I asked softly. Sure enough, a tear ran down the man's face, and he smiled.

"Can't help it. Just s' happy."

I chuckled and wiped a second tear away. "Ah… Four weeks after I get the championship, I get an amazing husband… It's really just the best thing? So much pride, so much happiness… I find it hard to believe, you know?"

"I know exactly how y' feel… but this is real. This is really happening… I couldn't ask anything more out of anyone or anything."

Hours passed, with dancing, smiles, tears, hugs, and kisses. Moments were forever imprinted into my mind more than the most practiced and studied of game plans, more than the most memorable knock outs.

Sitting at a table with Berwald next to me, I grasped his hand in mine, smiling. A microphone on a stand resided off to one side of the dance floor, and a bearded Croatian tapped the device.

"If you'll excuse my interruption, I have a few words I would like to say to those gathered here, and the newlyweds." Attention turned to Andelko, the man standing at the mic. He put his hands into the pockets of his black suit jacket and sighed.

"When I first met Mathias, I told him that I hoped he'd give me a good challenge. I only knew him as a fighter when we first met each other; little did I know that this man would not only beat me, but go on to beat Alexianos Kirzigian. He's got a sort of spark in his eyes that I have to admire. He's got so much determination, which is why he's on top of the WCFL. I can only hope that I can beat someone as unpredictable as him. But anyways, as days went by, and I when lost against Mathias, I connected with him. We seem to get along, the rookie and I. I hope I can know him for the rest of my life. A man as naturally happy and ambitious as Mathias is good for your health. His smile is practically contagious, like a cold. Though it's not half as bothersome… Okay, maybe a little, but hey, he's only human." He laughed. "I'm kidding, Mat, you're great. Passionate, even."

I laughed and grinned as Andelko continued.

"Now Berwald… I met him back when he was just starting off in MMA. Now I knew just from his skyscraper stature and the muscle on him, he was going to be one tough guy. Oh, and that stare. That stare, we can't forget. The Beast effect. Anyways, I watched him from a distance, watching him rack up win after win, and eventually he beat me. Then he hit a wall; that wall was Alexianos Kirzigian. Not quite the wall he wanted to hit, but hey, better than running into an actual wall. He powered through everyone, but just couldn't beat Kirzigian. He still had that flare in his eye though; he had that drive, that motivation to keep fighting, to keep doing something, anything to get better. He worked hard for years and years and years… and years. I have to say, if I got beat by someone as much as Berwald got beaten by Alexianos, I would have given up, but Berwald persevered, and kept on going. That takes guts. Fighting is his passion."

"But he and Mathias both have an even better passion; a passion for each other. These two guys have been together for a while now, an even when critics say that gay MMA fighters are terrible people, Mat and Berwald prove them wrong. These guys have stuck with each other through thick and thin. I swear, Mat can't seem to get out of the way of guys running red lights and Berwald can't seem to stop hitting his head on low doorways, but even so, despite the way the two are, they connect. The Beast and the Rookie. I didn't think I'd ever seen the true definition of love, but… when I look at Berwald and Mathias today, there's the definition sitting right in front of me. Love. Passion. Success. Happiness. Every positive adjective in my vocabulary." Andelko chuckled. "Give these two a round of applause or some cheering or something. They deserve it."

The gathered people clapped and cheered, Andelko walking over to Berwald and I.

"You guys, I just have to say that I wish you a great marriage, great careers, all the works, you know…? I love you guys. I can tell just by looking at you that you've got long lives ahead of you. And I have to thank you, both of you, for opening my eyes and showing me that love can work. You've inspired me to work harder with my marriage… To work harder with everything I do. Thank you so much."

"Andy…" I muttered, standing and rounding the table. I hugged him tightly, tears welling up in my eyes. 'Awws' came from some people in the crowd.

"You're welcome, man…" I said, chuckling slightly and sniffling. He smiled and pat my shoulder as we let go of each other. Berwald stood and hugged the Croat for a moment, exchanging a few quiet words that I didn't quite catch.

When the night was over, Berwald and I had returned to our house. Exhausted from the day, we decided to wait to consummate the marriage for another day. We would have to postpone any such activities until we could take a vacation from the WCFL and our training. Thankfully though, the upcoming fight was Berwald's retirement fight, and my first title defense. I was certain that Lodovico would be happy to give us a break so that we could spend some time together.

Berwald and I both got up early in the morning to do our different training routines at the World Class Gym. We both met up with our coaches, and began training like what seemed to be every day.

Eduard and I wrestled. Tolvorn worked with me on striking. Eduard and I wrestled some more. Tolvorn made me run laps. More wrestling. More striking. More laps. More training.

It felt so right to be in the gym, punching a punching bag, doing drills, working my muscles hard. It was simply a way of life for me. I had lived for a little over a year like this; waking up morning after morning just to train.

Days of training turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and before I knew it, I was being called a veteran of the WCFL.

Twelve years had gone by like a blur.

My record in the WCFL was 49-10. I was no longer the champion of the WCFL. But my run as champion had lasted eighteen fights, until Raivis Galante won it fair and square. He ended up losing it after only three title defenses, and currently, the title was in the hands of a young Romanian man named Vladimir Petrescu.

Being thirty-eight years old, I was shocked to say that I wasn't the oldest in the league. Andelko Begovich, at the age of forty-seven, was still alive and kicking in the top ranks of the World-Class Fighting League.

A lot of things had changed over the years though.

Lovino now ran the WCFL, continuing his family's legacy of ownership of the league.

Pretty much everyone from the days when I had joined MMA in the league had retired. Raivis and Andelko were the only two who remained, and even then, Raivis hadn't been on the roster before me.

Eduard and Raivis' relationship had fell through sadly, but hey, things happened.

Berwald, now in his early forties, had taken up carpentry and ran a small business. He was missing a finger now due to an accident with a buzz saw, but hey, it's not like one finger made too much of a difference.

Alexianos and Tino had ended up getting divorced eight years after Alexianos had lost his championship to me. I never did find out why.

My father had died of a heart attack ten years after I obtained the championship. The cause of it was stress, which wasn't a surprise. My parents always had seemed to overwork themselves to the point of exhaustion.

My mother had retired from her job, and moved to the United States, now living just across the street from Berwald and I.

A lot of things never changed though.

Berwald was still a beast, and could still scare away grown men with merely a glance.

The WCFL was still the most elite of MMA leagues, and was always looking for new talent.

Tino still ran the café downtown, and I often bought coffee there on the mornings I didn't train.

But most of all, I was still me. Cheerful, happy, relaxed, and brutal. If I could fight forever, I would, but sadly, I knew my time in the league was coming to a close. I had signed for my very last fight with the man I had been fighting alongside for the past thirteen years. Andelko Begovich.

It was a two-way retirement fight, meaning both he and I would retire, no matter the winner.

ooo

Bright lights blinded my eyes, causing me to squint as I exited the tunnel into the arena full of yowling fans. The octagonal cage in the center was my destination; the shape had become the centerfold of my career, and pretty much, my life.

My hands were encased in tightly-wrapped bandages and over the bandages, bright red gloves, gleaming in the artificial light beamed down from the ceiling. The gloves matched my shorts; the ones had worn numerous times, and the ones I had worn during my very first bout in this very same cage I was walking to.

My coach for the past thirteen years, Tolvorn Ryker, walked alongside me. The old man had slowed down his pace walking down the ramp to the cage, but he still had a grin on his face. He was still my coach, no matter what age, what pace, or where we were.

I entered the cage, smiling and standing in my corner. My blue eyes scanned over every detail, from the small stains of sweat and blood on the mat below my feet, to the shining multi-colored lights above my head. Screaming fans sounded all-too familiar, like every voice that was present I had heard in a day before.

My opponent and great friend Andelko Begovich mad his entrance, making similar glances around that I had made. He walked in the cage casually, smiling at me from across the mat.

Brian O'Keeffe stood at the center of the mat next to Liam Kirkland, beginning to announce the fight.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our main event of the evening. This fight is a two-way retirement fight, between the last two veterans of the former generation of World-Class Fighting League fighters. Introducing first, the elder of the two, fighting out of the blue corner; weighing in at two-hundred and one pounds, standing at five feet, eleven inches tall… This man is a kick boxer and a Jiu-Jitsu fighter, fighting out of Vukovar, Croatia… with a record of 65-22... He is the World-Class Fighting League's longest participating fighter, with a total of eighty-seven fights in his official record… He is Andelko "The Southern Slavic Legend" Begovich!"

The crowd cheered loudly for the old fighter, who raised a fist in the air, grinning. Once the crowd died down, Brian O'Keeffe started once again.

"Introducing second, the younger of the two, fighting out of the red corner, weighing in at one-hundred ninety-nine pounds, standing at six feet tall… This man is a Generalist, fighting out of Copenhagen, Denmark… with a record of 49-10.… He is the former Champion of the World Class Fighting League, having defeated the longest-running champion in WCFL history, Alexianos Kirzigian, by way of knockout… He is Mathias "The Rookie" Køhler!"

I raised both my hands, balled into fists, as the crowd cheered and yowled.

The media cleared the ring, and I shook out my limbs, ready for the final fight of my career.

When Liam Kirkland, Andelko, and I were the only ones left in the cage, the ref readied himself at the center, looking to both Andelko and I.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

Andelko and I both nodded, and he swung his arms down, the bell ringing, the first round beginning.

Andelko and I pounded fists together out of respect and friendship when we approached each other, smiling.

We took steps away from each other, circling like we always did in every fight.

Our feet moved swiftly across the worn mat beneath them, bright lights heating the arena, bringing rays of shine to reveal the faces of cheering fanatics, camera people, officials, and the two fighters in the ring.

As punches were thrown and eventually blood was spilt, staining the canvas for what seemed to be the millionth time, memories ran through my head of days prior to this very one.

I remembered first stepping into this cage, so nervous my hands shook and sweat beaded down my face.

I remembered the fight against the passive Matthew Williams, and Furth more knocking him out to bring the start of one of the most notable careers in WCFL history.

I remembered meeting new friends; Eduard, Tino, Matthew, Alfred, Ivan, and so many more.

I remembered going on to fight Nikodemos Antonov, the instigating Macedonian who ended up the loser in a fight he had assured a win out of.

I remembered meeting my husband that fateful day in the World-Class Gym, when the Swede's exhaustion had peaked, and he was unable to train adequately enough to please his coach.

I remember fighting Lovino Vargas, enduring hell with the Italian's tactical fighting, and struggling to the end to achieve a victory.

I remember days after that fight, when Lovino had tried to make reparations, and even though I didn't accept them, he and I became good friends.

I remember the day that Berwald asked me out conveniently, thanks to Eduard telling the man that I had a crush on him.

I remember training to fight a so-called "heartless" Russian, who in all reality, was a very caring, gentle giant.

I remembered my first date with my very own gentle giant, learning a lot about the man over a plate of Italian cuisine and some reminiscing about past events.

I remember fighting Ivan Braginski, going through a grueling three rounds with the incredibly strong Russian, but coming out with the win.

I remember watching a fight between Berwald and the only man ever to defeat him at the time, Alexianos Kirzigian, and realizing just how brutal the sport I had gotten involved in really was.

I remember visiting Berwald in the hospital the day after losing his fight with the champion, debilitated more by the emotions he felt than the concussion he had acquired.

I remember somehow finding myself a spot in Berwald's heart, earning his confession of love, and thus coming to the realization that I was in love as well.

I remember fighting the first legend of my career, Andelko Begovich, and winning, stunning the community, grinning despite my cracked ribs.

I remember spending a restless night in the hospital after a surgery to fix those broken ribs, throwing an apple at my coach to wake him up, and playing Tetris on my phone to pass the time.

I remember an intimate moment with Berwald that was interrupted by the grumbling of an empty stomach, emitted from the tall Swede.

I remember fighting a Serbian man who had revealed to the world that he had been living a life full of struggle, hate, and lies, retiring with a loss in his final fight, a a heart heavier than his punches.

I remember the confession from my Swedish boyfriend about his past with his father, and his urges for suicide, and even more clearly, when he handed me a revolver and told me to dispose of it.

I remember, vividly, the proposal of marriage from the Swede, accepting the ring from him even though our relationship hadn't been in existence for all that long.

I remember going to Sweden, and watching Berwald break down at his father's grave, questioning the motionless tombstone until he felt that he finally had closure.

I remember sparring with Alexianos Kirzigian, only to have my ribs broken from a hard punch that was only meant for inside the cage, not for a training ring in a gym.

I remember learning of a fallen fighter, Dagur Jonson, and vowing to avenge his death, even though I was scared for my own.

I remember stepping into the ring and fighting Berwald, disregarding the fact that he was my fiancé at the time, and coming out with the win over one of the most prolific characters in the league.

I remember keeping refuge a Finnish man whose marriage had been falling apart at the seams.

I remember thinking spiraling thoughts about so many things, becoming stressed and nervous for days ahead.

I remember achieving the greatest victory in the WCFL, beating Alexianos Kirzigian with a desperation punch, stopping the MMA world, silencing the crowd, and proving once and for all that I was the very best in the league, and that I belonged.

I remember, in the days after the victory, basking in the glory of being the champion, but remaining modest in attempts to keep stable relationships with those around me.

And I knew I would remember these next few moments of my life; the final fight of my career. The end of an era.

The fire in our eyes would never die though; it was merely passed on from generation to generation. From the era of the first WCFL fighters; Lodovico Vargas, Arthur Kirkland, Francis Bonnefoy, to the second. From the second era of WCFL fighters; Sadik Adnan, Alexianos Kirzigian, Andelko Begovich, and I, to the third, the cycle would continue for as long as the World-Class Fighting League remained in existence.

The eternal flame of our lives would never go out; it would merely burst to an even brighter light with each coming year, with each new fighter to come into the organization, with each new smile obtained from a victory.

The only undefeated thing that resided in the minds of the fighters was the spirit that lived through us all. Our dream had never been to win our fights, to become champions, to retire undefeated; all along, it had been to keep the eternal flame alive.

And alive, the flame remained.

The End