Pig × The Lone Swordbearer
It can go in alone, but it folds once it's fought enough, never trading blows to the death.
The Lone Swordbearer goes in alone, the brightest lone star, the way Sirius cuts the daybreak sky by itself. The Pig in you charges too, then folds once the fight has gone on long enough, because trading blows to the death was never the appeal. So you are the rare lone fighter who knows both how to press and how to set the sword down.
Most of this type cannot stop; they grind themselves to a breakdown over a battle no one asked them to keep fighting. Your open-handedness adds detachment to the valor. You are brave enough to walk in and wise enough to walk out, and you do not carry the fight home to chew on it all night. People who have watched the obsessive version flame out find your kind of courage almost restful.
The fault line is the easing-off. You let go right when one more push was due, falling a step short of the thing you came for. The waning crescent at daybreak is already fading, and you fade with it a beat too early. Too content to bleed for it, you call a draw where a win was sitting right there. When the fight is one you actually care about, notice the moment you want to fold and hold the line one round longer.
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A mirror, not a prophecy. It reflects you as you are right now. How you walk is still yours to choose.